We'll Remember For You, Mom

On March 20, 1949, there was a wedding in the little mountain coal town of Welch, West Virginia.  Rachel Elizabeth Hollandsworth married James Willis King.  They had said they would marry sometime in the spring, but why wait?  The first day of spring suited them just fine.  Everyone knew them as Jack and Beth.  I know them as Mom and Dad.  This March 20th would have been their 65th wedding anniversary.

 

I’ve written about their life before.  So much can be said about this wonderful pair, but I know that I do not need to repeat what has already been said and written.  God blessed Mom and Dad with five children, of which I am number four.  Mary Beth, John, Jan, and Kathryn round out the quintet.  We grew up in Princeton, West Virginia, where Dad worked for the Norfolk and Western Railroad, and Mom worked to direct the school lunch programs in thirteen counties. 

 

We were a close family, with Mom and Dad being very involved in our lives despite their busy work schedules.  The most important heritage that was given to us was spiritual.  Mom and Dad came to know the Lord after they were married, Dad first and then Mom some time later.  They both made sure that we were faithful to attend church all during our years of growing up, and also made sure that we each were developing our own intimate walk with the Lord. 

I remember so many great times in that house on North Third Street.  So much laughter, good food, games, friendships, and fellowship with not only each other but with others……..friends, college students, missionaries, preachers, extended family.  As the years went on, there were hard times, too.  We were not immune from the trials that everyone faces.  There were tears and stressful situations and heartache…….but we always had each other, and we always had the Lord that Mom and Dad had taught us to lean on over the years.

 

Each of us kids married and left home.  Mom and Dad eventually retired within months of each other.  Instead of going their own ways, they became closer than ever.  They never tired of each other’s presence.  Rarely would one make even a quick trip to the grocery store without the other one going along.  They held hands and kissed often, and just shared all that life had for them……together, totally.  This included Dad’s lung cancer and then four years later his liver cancer, and finally his death in December of 2008.  Mom never left his side……never wavered in her care for him…….and neither of them ever faltered in their love for the Lord and for each other. 

 

Mom now lives in a beautiful assisted living facility where she is well cared for.  Bob and Jan, and John and Jeanie, take excellent care of her as well.  No amount of love and care, however, can take away from her the insidious effects of Alzheimer’s.  Mom is basically happy, yes, and mostly healthy.  But the mother that we have known all of our lives is gone now.  Forever gone. 

It’s really stunning to see and to hear the depth of her forgetfulness.  I called her the other day and as she answered the phone, I said, “Hi, Mom!  This is Patty.”

“Who is this?” she replied.  I told her again who I was, and she asked, “And WHO is this?”  She had no idea that Patty is her daughter, even after I told her.  She has no memory of her children, except for seeming to still know Jan.  She is surprised every Sunday that the man preaching in the pulpit is her son.  And when told that she has five children and then is given their names, she says, “I had all those children?”  Bob wrote all of our names on a picture of us, but Mom has no emotion or connection when she looks at it.  She doesn’t recognize anyone in the picture, including herself.

 

Of everything and everyone that she has forgotten, the most amazing and the saddest one that she has forgotten is Dad.  At first Jan and John weren’t sure that she had lost her memory of him, but she has shown over and over that she really doesn’t remember him.  She shows no recognition of his pictures.  When she passes the cemetery where he is buried, she only talks about her parents buried there…………not Dad. 

But one day when she was shown Dad’s picture and reminded of who he was, her voice softened and she said, “Jack.  He was such a special man.”  Her doctor at a recent visit was asking her questions.  How many children do you have?  Mom didn’t know.  Do you remember any of their names?  No, she did not.  Then she was asked to give her husband’s name, and she paused before saying, “John?”

The doctor said, “No.  Jack.”  And suddenly, at the mention of his name, Jan said that Mom’s chin began to quiver.  It didn’t last long, but there was an unmistakable connection there……maybe a memory?  Deep inside, maybe she does slightly remember the wonderful man that was her husband for 59 years. 

 

But it’s OK, Mom.  We’ll remember for you now.  We’ll remember all the years…..all the love…..all the treasures of the life that you and Dad built together.  We’ll remember your devotion to each other……..your laughter and silliness and fun………your faithfulness and your routines and your enthusiasm for life.  And what a life it was!  We have no reason to be unhappy about that at all.  We’ll remember the jokes and the family stories and the music…..oh, the music!  Especially “Oh It Rained, Rained, Rained,” which we are all sure that we will get to sing in heaven. 

 

As long as God allows, we will remember what you have forgotten.  And we will honor you and Dad for being the most wonderful parents, and the most loving husband and wife, that we have ever known.  You won’t realize that it’s your anniversary on this March 20^th, but we will know.  You won’t even remember Jack……Dad……but we will remember for you. 

We will remember, and we will be thankful for this most precious gift……this gift of memories…….this gift of you and Dad.

Happy Anniversary, Mom.  You are loved.  We remember.

Do NOT Talk About This Color Thing!

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!!  I like to tease about this day being MY day…..Saint PATTY’S Day.  However, I did not mention anything like that to Aaron this morning because he would only think that Mom is being weird……..and that would probably lead to him getting impatient with weird Mom.  Mornings are already rather “iffy,” so I just didn’t burden him with my wit.  Sorry that the rest of you are not so fortunate.  J

 

I did make sure that Aaron was wearing a green shirt today.  Not that he cares one little bit, but I do care.  Not that he cares that I care……well, you get it.   I decided not to make a big deal about today being Saint Patrick’s Day.  That’s because Aaron might see it as some sort of holiday or a day to celebrate, and he does not usually like celebrations.  All the noise of parties, and people acting weird (that’s how he sees it!), makes Aaron most unhappy and uncomfortable.  He also feels like something extra is expected of him but he isn’t sure what that something is, so he becomes very irritated and then very vocal.  A very irritated and vocal Aaron can ruin the best of celebrations.

I thought, though, that maybe I should tell him his shirt was green.  You see, Aaron is color blind and I knew that to him his shirt probably looks like some shade of brown.  I didn’t want others at his day group to maybe say something about him wearing green and then have him being clueless, so I told him this morning that his shirt was green since it is Saint Patrick’s Day.  I should have left it there, but then I had to go and say something about knowing it might look brown to him. 

“OK, OK, Mom!” he said as he walked away.  “I don’t want to talk about this color thing again!” 

Well, it’s not like we talk about this color thing every day, but I understood his frustration and I just left it alone.  Ah, Aaron.  He didn’t want to talk about this color thing, but over the weekend he did plenty of talking about other things.   Let’s see:

SPRING:  Aaron sees the seasons like this……winter is cold; spring is warm; summer is hot; and autumn is cool.  Period.  And each season should begin on its designated day with the appropriate temperatures attached.  Therefore, I was not surprised yesterday morning when he said, “Mom, I was sitting in my room and I felt heat.” 

Yes, Aaron, that’s because the furnace came on.

“The heat came on?” he replied.  “I thought it was spring.”

No, spring starts on March 20……this Thursday. 

“So it’s still winter?” he continued.  I told him it was, and he predictably said, “Then why was it warm yesterday?” 

I explained, as I have every season for many, many years, that we can have warm days in the winter and cold days in the spring and hot days in autumn and cool days in summer……

“So this Thursday it’s spring?  Then it’ll be warm?” he asked as he walked away. 

Whatever.

Yolanda:  As he and I changed his sheets this weekend, Aaron was talking about his good friend, Yolanda, and how he let her borrow some DVDs.  As we talked and I once again said the name ‘Yolanda,’ Aaron interrupted me by saying, “Mom, you say it in a bad way.”

I asked what I was saying in a bad way and he explained, “You say it YoLANDa but it’s YoLONDa!” 

Oh.  Well, I wouldn’t want to say it in a bad way so thanks for correcting me, Aaron.

HIS FACE:  Last night after Aaron brushed his teeth, he came in our bedroom to tell me something that was very exciting to him. 

“Mom!  After I brushed my teeth, I looked up close in the mirror…..halfway…..and it looks like there are HOLES in my face!!  See?”

And he leaned in very close to MY face so that I could hopefully see the holes in HIS face. 

“Those are for SWEAT!!” he informed me. 

Interesting. 

And with that, he was off to bed and I was off to have a good laugh behind the closed bathroom door.

He and I went to Dillon’s this morning on his way to meet his group.  He was happy at Dillon’s today.  For one reason, he got TWO containers of Pringles along with his flavored water. 

For another reason, Mom did not stand there talking to someone and totally messing up the routine. 

He sat on the chairs outside the little bank annex there as he waited on me to finish in the self-checkout lane.  I turned to look at him and this is what I saw. 

 

Good old Aaron, still making his presence known in one form or another.  I’ll take happy Aaron, though, in his green shirt…….or is it brown?

Peace out…..and Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

What's Wrong With Him?

I’ve written in the past about how much Aaron likes to sit in our mulch around our trees or in our flower beds, breaking the small wood chips into very small pieces and watching them fall into his special trash can………his mulch trash can, we call it.  This is Aaron’s way of relaxing.  He often makes up stories in his head during his time in the mulch.  It’s a harmless way of decompressing and dealing with life that he began when he was very young. 

 

 

Neighbors or people who pass by have often wondered what on earth Aaron is doing sitting for long periods of time in the mulch or out under a tree near our garden where there are plenty of old leaves and twigs on the ground that also suit his purposes.  Just this past week our Tru-Green worker came to spray our yard.  He and I were talking on the front porch when out bounded Aaron to see who Mom was talking to and to interrupt if he possibly could.  This nice young man smiled and told me that he had met Aaron.  I could read the meaning behind that smile.  Aaron is unforgettable on several levels.  Then he said that on the day he met him, Aaron was sitting in the mulch pulling weeds.  I did not correct him in front of Aaron.  He isn’t the first person who has thought that Aaron is pulling weeds. 

 

One day a woman walked past our house as Aaron was in the mulch under one of our trees.  She smiled broadly at Aaron, her pony tail swinging as she briskly walked.  He, of course, ignored her.  So she happily said something to Aaron about all the weeds there are to pull.  He looked at her strangely, and the only thing he said to her was, “What?”  So she perkily repeated what she said about weeds……….and he just stared at her as if she had just landed from Mars.  I wonder what she wondered as she walked away. 

Gary and I have recently discovered that Aaron has developed an indoor way of relaxing that is similar to his mulch.  Peanuts.  Aaron loves the peanuts at various restaurants, so I started buying him his own peanuts to have at home.  He loves the huge bags of peanuts from Sam’s.  There is comfort for him in knowing that he has a huge stash of peanuts on hand.  He eats them when he watches television in the family room.  On his lap or on the ottoman in front of him he places a bowl in which he drops the peanut shells and the inner peanut hulls…….peanut wrappings, as he calls them. 

 

One evening I watched him as he ate and I realized that he was hunched over that bowl, looking down into it just as he does his mulch trash can.  I watched him out of the corner of my eye and saw that he was breaking the shells as best he could, just like he does the mulch.  There’s a certain way that he moved his hands and dropped the small pieces into the bowl that was just like he does out in the mulch……and I knew that his indoor peanuts had become just like his outdoor mulch.  How interesting!  Now Aaron has an indoor way of relaxing, so to speak, although slightly fattening. 

It’s another piece of the puzzle that makes up Aaron.  We continue to find that there are still pieces of his puzzle to add.  It’s like Aaron is never totally finished as we discover more and more about him.  I know that others, especially, find him hard to understand….such as the woman who walked by the yard and said something to him about pulling weeds.  Yesterday morning I had an experience with a woman who was confronted with Aaron in all his glory……and she didn’t keep her wondering to herself.

Aaron has had an up and down week.  I think he needs some major mulch time in order to relax!  Even peanuts aren’t quite doing the trick.  Anyway, he and I ran into Dillon’s yesterday morning on our way to meet his group.  He got a drink and I picked up something for our elderly neighbors.  The attendant at the self check-out lane is familiar with me and so we struck up a conversation.  She was asking about our neighbors whom she also knows, and so we stood there talking………and Aaron began pacing.  This is a sure sign that he is frustrated.

“Mom!” he finally said.  “Mom!  We need to go!”

I acknowledged him, but kept talking.

A few seconds passed.  “Mom!  Come on!”

Again I told Aaron that we would leave in a minute.

It wasn’t enough.  “Mom!  We’re going to be late!”

Aaron, I’m almost done.

“Mom!  You tell me to hurry!”

I turned to look at him and saw that his eyes were big and his face was red.

And the woman that I was talking to, whose eyes had been darting to look at Aaron the whole time we were talking, said to me:   “So, what’s wrong with him?”

Her comment took me off guard.  I didn’t expect such bluntness, especially in front of Aaron.  He does see and hear, you know.  In her defense, Aaron was being very unusual and very bold…….especially when you don’t understand him.  I will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that she was just asking a generic question about him…….not asking about his disability.

But really, can you not look at Aaron and know that he is special?  I could tell that she was irritated with Aaron……and I also saw that the two women near us were also looking at him, as were the bank clerks behind the counter there. 

It was one of those “Just slap me in the face” moments.  I quietly told her that Aaron has autism and that he gets very focused on keeping his schedule.  I could have said much more, but I didn’t.  Not in front of Aaron….and in front of all the other people staring at us.  I just hope that she will learn to be understanding in these situations.  The last thing I needed was to have my nose rubbed in the reality of my son’s behavior. 

I have a way of shrugging those things off and of understanding the other party.  And I need to often remind myself to extend that same grace and understanding to Aaron……who sure can get under my skin at times like that.   Understanding him is key to living with him or working with him in any setting.  Not excusing……..but understanding, even when the puzzle pieces aren’t coming together the way we think they should.

Maybe I should have just driven Aaron and I both home, grabbed his trash can, and BOTH of us sat out under the tree, picking in the mulch and unwinding. 

Or at least grabbed the bag of peanuts and a bowl! 

 

The Case of the Missing Trampoline

I took a little detour after dropping Aaron off this morning to drive around our neighborhood circle.  Actually, I had a purpose.  I was looking for our grill cover.  We had terrible winds yesterday and last night, strong even by Kansas standards.  The winds must have whipped our grill cover right off and blown it who-knows-where, because it’s gone.  It’s heavy and large, but it wasn’t too heavy for those strong winds.  I never did see it this morning.  Maybe it blew in the lake.  Who knows?

All of this reminded me of a funny story that happened when we were stationed at Fort Huachuca, Arizona.  We lived in military quarters on post, in a really beautiful setting.  We were surrounded by the Huachuca Mountains and had a stunning view from our large back yard.  We loved sitting on our little patio and soaking in the view, with gorgeous sunsets and brilliant storms. 

 

We bought a trampoline and put it in our fenced back yard.  The kids spent countless hours out there with each other and with friends, jumping to their heart’s content.  They even talked Gary and me into jumping on it.  And none of us will ever forget the night we all camped out on the trampoline.  OK, OK……..they all slept on it.  I waited until everyone was fast asleep and snuck back in the house to our comfy bed!

 

Because of the mountains, we got some very powerful winds there.  One night we thought that surely the house would blow away.  When it was daylight, one of the kids ran to me with the news that our trampoline was gone.  “Gone?” I asked.  “What do you mean, gone?”  So I walked to the window to take a look and sure enough, no trampoline.  The kids, the dog, and I all went outside to take a better look.  Where was our trampoline?  We looked some more, but still there was no sight of it. 

Surely it couldn’t have blown over the fence, I thought.  Or could it?  So after pondering what to do, I followed proper procedure for those of us living on a military base.  I called the Military Police.  Feeling a little silly as a person on the other end answered, I said, “Well, I’m not sure if I need to be doing this, but I’d like to report a missing trampoline.” 

“A missing trampoline?” the man asked.  So I explained that the night before, our trampoline was there as usual, but this morning it was gone.  I just thought that maybe I should report it in case someone turned in a report of an unwanted trampoline in their yard……or on one of the flat roofs………or smashed against their car.  Or could it have been stolen?  Not likely, but what if?  Could we have a trampoline thief on the loose?

The MP on the line took my report and we hung up.  Before long, our doorbell rang and when I opened the door, there stood a man.  He told me that he was a military police investigator and was there in response to our report of a missing trampoline.  There he stood, very serious, and wearing a trench coat.  A trench coat.  Really? 

He then informed me that two MPs were, at that moment, searching our back yard and the surrounding area for any sign of our trampoline.   So I thanked him, feeling rather foolish for all this bother, and I prepared to close the door.  “Ma’am,” he continued.  “I need to come in and take a statement.”

“A statement?” I asked.   “Yes ma’am,” he answered.  “I need a statement about your missing trampoline.”  Now I really did feel foolish, but he was so very officially stern and so I agreed.  We sat at the kitchen table while he opened his briefcase and while the two MPs were looking around our back yard as if it was a real crime scene.  The kids were taking this all in, thinking it was quite a fun adventure.  I remember being very worried about Aaron, who saw “Policeymen,” as he called them, as being mean men…………so therefore he would say unkind things about them when we would pass one in the car. 

“Please, Aaron,” I silently begged.  “Don’t say a word.  Not one word about your opinion of this very young and very serious military police investigator.”  And it hit me again…….an investigator for a trampoline?  Really?

This trench-coat clad investigator very solemnly wrote down every word that I said about the circumstances surrounding our missing trampoline.  Every word.  Written by hand, in duplicate.  Now those of you who know me know that I find humor in most situations………and I was certainly beginning to find humor in this one.  The kids were excited, and Aaron was being unpredictable, and the outside MPs were being unproductive in their search, and this very stern investigator was thoroughly writing down my every word…….and I was finding it all quite funny. 

But it got even better.  As I finished my testimony, the somber investigator looked up and asked me if I was sure I had given all the details.  I told him that I was sure I was sure.  He didn’t crack a smile.  I was having a hard time holding mine inside.  Then he very officially said, “Mrs. Moore, raise your right hand and swear that what you have said here is true.” 

That was it.  I burst out laughing.  I mean, I really thought that he was kidding me.  He was not.  His mouth did not move as he stared at me………which made it even funnier to me.  I knew I needed to hush but not before I said, “You mean you’re serious?  You really want me to raise my right hand and swear that what I’ve said is true?”  He did.

So up went my right hand as he asked me if I swore that what I said was true.  And I swore that what I said was true, and I also swore inside that if he didn’t soon leave then I would be laughing loudly and being a bad example to my children.  Where was Aaron anyway? 

Finally, the grim, young trench-coat-clad investigator left along with the two even younger MPs………who, by the way, had found no hide nor hair of our missing trampoline.   I closed the door, and at last was able to laugh without being arrested. 

When Gary returned from the air field that evening, he and the kids went on their own trampoline search.  It wasn’t long before Gary found some springs and some hooks on the ground.  He followed their trail to the nearby hospital, where he found our trampoline wedged up against the back side of the building.  For crying out loud!  Gary didn’t even have on a trench coat and he was able to solve the crime!

I figured I should call the MP station and call off the search.  Gary and the kids had driven down to the hospital to load the bent trampoline into the van, so I called the police.  I told the man who answered the phone who I was and what had transpired, and then I said, “So I need to now unswear that what I swore earlier is true.”

I thought that was funny.  He didn’t. 

Oh well, the trampoline was found and was soon put back together.  We should have invited the investigator over to see it for himself.  Why didn’t I think of that?

I swear!

 

We Go AHEAD One Hour?

Aaron is very particular about time.  He keeps a running list of the time he goes to bed and the time he gets up.  He is rarely without his wristwatch, worn halfway up his arm.  He is very precise when he states the time that he does something, such as, “Mom, I quit reading at 10:43 and went to bed at 10:44.”  If I say, “So, you went to bed around 10:45,” he looks at me as if I am rather dense and then says, “No!  I went to bed at 10:44!”

Notice where Aaron wears his watch

 

If he is tired of wearing his wristwatch and he comes out of his room to do something, he will often carry his watch with him.  This is what he did one night recently when we were playing Skip-Bo.  He very carefully set his watch up so that he could see it, and then he would give me a time update.  “Mom, it’s 9:36.”   “Mom, now it’s 9:43.”  “Mom, it’s 9:52.” 

“So it’s almost 10:00?” I asked.  And true to form, Aaron answered, “No!  It’s 9:52!”

Sheesh, Mom!!!

 

At the theater, Aaron will sit with his popcorn perched on his lap……..but not eating any.  He then gives a rundown of the time as he often glances at the lighted clock on the wall of the theater.  “Mom, what time did you say the movie starts?” he asks.  I tell him the time and he watches that clock, mentally ticking down the minutes.  I will be happily munching my popcorn, but not Aaron.  That’s because Aaron will not start eating his popcorn until the lights are dimmed and the movie actually starts.  This is his unwritten popcorn rule, and the reason that he is so concerned with time at the theater. 

So it’s no wonder that our time change this weekend was slightly stressful for Aaron, and more than slightly stressful for me.  I told him on Saturday afternoon that we would be changing our clocks ahead one hour that night.  This is nothing new to Aaron, of course, but it always throws him.

“So we go AHEAD one hour?” he questions.   I told him yes, and he stood there pondering this change. 

“So when I go to bed at 10:00 it will really be 11:00?” he asked.  I said yes again, trying to be very low key as I watched him mentally processing this disturbing information.

Later that evening, as we played a game of Skip-Bo, he was getting nervous.  He knew that 8:15 was really 9:15, so each ticking minute was causing him some stress.  He was glad when we were finished and he could zip up to his room to take care of a couple things on his computer.  Soon, though, he was thumping back down the stairs.

“Mom, it’s 9:46,” he said to me.  He stood there waiting for my response.  I knew what he was thinking, but I didn’t react. 

“Well,” he continued, “that means it’s really 10:46.  I need to go to bed!”  I have rarely seen him so eager to take his pills, brush his teeth, and get in bed.  He hardly even read his Handy Answer Science book because his clock that was now set to the correct time was reminding him that the previous 9:53 was actually now 10:53.  For crying out loud, it was time to turn off his light and go to sleep!!

The next morning he didn’t get up until 7:41, to be precise……as Aaron always is.  He came downstairs to find me looking at the Sunday paper………and he was not in a good mood.  All this time change and then sleeping later did not sit well with Aaron.  He asked about coupons in the paper, which he always clips for me, but he asked in an impatient manner.  I told him that I wanted to look at the coupons first to see if I wanted a second set.  This is our standard routine, but Aaron’s routine had messed up and so he was messed up as well.

He got angry as he stood there waiting on me to look through the coupons.  He wouldn’t go shower, he wouldn’t get his coupon trash cans, he wouldn’t get his scissors, he wouldn’t get his sitting pillow out.  Nope.  He stood there waiting on me and fuming.  He ended up being very mad at me and calling me a name.  All because of a change in the time and a change in his set routine.

It seems like such a small thing to us, but to a person with autism these changes are very difficult.  It doesn’t really excuse Aaron’s behavior but it does explain it.  Words don’t speak to Aaron at a time like this.  They only make him angrier.  So from Mom he got a cold shoulder, and by the afternoon he was wanting to put his arm around my shoulders and talk my ear off.  He was sorry, though he never said the words. 

He happily came in the kitchen that evening with the clothes pins that we use on chip bags pinned on his ears.  Things were back to normal, if you would call that normal.  We do.  But one thing wasn’t right.  Aaron’s weather station clock beside his desk had not changed to the new time.  He asked me if I would set it for him, but I told him that I didn’t know how to set that clock.  I had not learned yet how to do that, I told him.

 

Soon he was coming back down to the kitchen with a further report on the clock.   Up he went to his room, only to return a few minutes later.  “Mom, do you want to learn now?” he hopefully asked me.  I gingerly told him that it could wait, and he accepted that…….only to come down soon after that.

“Mom, it’s 6:58,” he informed me, knowing that it was really 7:58.   Soon the next update came.

“Mom, it’s 7:02,” he said. 

Oh, Aaron.  He listened, though, as we told him to not get in a tizzy.  And later he was able to go to bed with great relief after Gary corrected the time on the clock.   Aaron’s world was finally in order, all the clocks and his wrist watch were in agreement, and this crazy changing time business was over!

Until this fall, when we will go through it all again.

I bet if some of these lawmakers had to live with Aaron, they’d stop all this silliness right away.  Now there’s an idea!

 

My Smiling Red Face

I’ve had a gamut of emotions with Aaron over the past few days.  On Sunday, he just wanted to sleep all day.  He started running a fever, so I worried about his recent root canal, although when awake he told us that his tooth and jaw had no pain at all.  He complained, though, of a stomach ache and had no appetite.  Then he had a couple seizures while sleeping that afternoon, plus another shortly after midnight that night.  All of these things push my worry button.

Yesterday, Monday, he got up briefly but then went right back to sleep on the couch until I was finally able to lure him up around 12:30 with the promise of food…….which he ended up not eating anyway.  But a trip to Dillon’s interested him, so after he showered we headed off to the store.  He enjoyed getting out and especially enjoyed getting a snack along with some sparkly water that he likes.  He then asked if he could get his hair cut at the Great Clips nearby, and I agreed.

Any of you who have read about Aaron for awhile know that going to Great Clips is usually an adventure, and this time was no exception.  Aaron knows that if the wait is too long then we probably won’t stay, so he often will bound in the front door and loudly ask, “Can I get a haircut?”  The startled looks on the faces of the hairdressers is actually funny, but I don’t need to see it every time we go there………so I always tell Aaron to wait on me.  Somehow yesterday he slipped in right behind the people entering before us and he quickly found his way to the front counter.  It didn’t bother him one bit that there was a line and that he had forged ahead, and that he was being stared at.  Nope, it didn’t bother Aaron nearly as much as it bothered me.  He also totally ignored me standing at the back of the line saying, “Aaron.  Aaron.  Aaron.”  He interrupted the mom who was paying for her kid’s haircuts, too.

“Can I get a haircut today?” he asked.   The nice girl behind the counter was trying to decide how to handle this intrusion.  I was almost enjoying the show, but decided it was time to intervene.  Since Aaron was playing deaf and seemingly couldn’t hear me calling his name, I had to walk up beside him and usher him to the back of the line where he belonged anyway.  Big Aaron had managed, in less than 60 seconds, to become the center of attention.  The girls working there who know Aaron were smiling, and the customers were staring………at least as far as I could tell.  I don’t always make direct eye contact because if I sense rudeness I just stare right back, and I wasn’t in a staring mood yesterday.  I know that some of them were glaring, though.  I can sense these things, trust me.

When it was our turn to check in, we found out that the wait would possibly be 20 or more minutes.  “Can we stay, MOM?!” Aaron urgently and loudly asked.  So we stayed, of course.  I sat Aaron in an end chair with me right beside him, hopefully out of the limelight.  But Aaron is never totally out of the limelight……because he is observing everything………EVERYTHING………and he rarely, rarely whispers. 

Aaron watched the mother and son who were in front of us go to the counter and talk to the hairdresser about how to cut the boy’s hair.   Aaron watched them carefully and didn’t miss the fact that this boy had on retro type glasses with darker frames.  As they decided how to cut his hair and turned to sit back down, Aaron said……..and remember, this is not in a whisper…….

“Clark Kent!”

I silently told myself to stay calm while I patted Aaron’s leg and reminded him to whisper…….or better yet, to just not talk at all.  Aaron was totally unaffected as he leaned forward for a better look at Clark Kent.

Soon Aaron’s attention was drawn to the hairdresser that was seating another patron.  “Hi,” she cheerily said.  “My name is --------.”  Aaron pondered this for a few seconds and then asked……again, rather loudly…….”Why do the ladies who cut hair tell their names?”  And I………quietly, hoping that Aaron would follow my lead………whispered to him about being polite and how sharing your name is courteous.  Aaron asks this same question about our servers in restaurants.  He doesn’t understand why these people must share their names.  Of course, Aaron cares little about anyone’s name or about sharing his own name.  I remember asking him one day how he got someone’s attention at his day group when he had never bothered to learn her name.  His answer – “I just say HEY!” 

At least it wasn’t “Hey, weirdo!”  Or “Hey, stupid!”  I know that at times he does choose to call someone a name, but it’s not always their given name, believe me. 

Soon the door of the salon opened and in walked a very nice looking young man.  He walked to the front counter and checked in.  He really stood out because he was wearing a long wool coat, very dressy in appearance, and it was a rich burnt gold color.  I’m sure that all of the other jeans clad, bundled up folks were aware of this man who didn’t seem to fit in there at Great Clips.  Aaron certainly was.  Aaron was studying this finely dressed man, especially his coat, and as the man turned to find a seat, Aaron said……….again, not exactly in a true whisper………

“Weird coat!”

Oh my.  I wanted to move my patting hand up from Aaron’s knee to join my other hand as I put them around Aaron’s neck.

“Aaron!” I said……not exactly in a true whisper, but close.  “Do NOT say that!” 

“Well, it IS a weird coat,” he calmly replied………still not in a true whisper.

The man sat down near me, with just one seat separating us.  I have no idea if he heard Aaron and I certainly did not look at him.  I was very, very relieved when it was then Aaron’s turn to get his hair cut.  The hairdresser happily called his name and as he walked to the chair she said, “Hi, Aaron!  My name is ---------.”   And Aaron gave his usual grunt, kept his eyes down, and plopped in the chair.  So much for being courteous. 

Later, as we stood in front of everyone at the counter, I could tell that Aaron beside me was putting his coat on………but something didn’t seem to be working right.  He stopped to sign the receipt, his coat dangling part-way on the floor, and then I finished the process as he once again tackled his coat.  I turned then when I was finished to find that Aaron had put his left arm in the right coat sleeve, so as he attempted to put his right arm in a sleeve there was nothing there.  His left arm was in the right sleeve and the left sleeve was on the floor……..well, it was a mess.  I laughed as I helped him, and Aaron loudly said, “Oh, I thought I had my arm in the right sleeve, Mom.  That was stupid!” 

And the man in the beautiful golden coat was sitting there observing all this coat business.  I wondered if he wanted to say, “Weird coat!” to Aaron.   I saw his eyes dart to Aaron’s face as we headed for the door.  He was wondering about Aaron.  Little did he know………..or maybe he did………..that Aaron was also wondering about him.

So I went from worry about Aaron to relief when he felt better to some embarrassment at his blunt un-whispered comments to laughter as we walked to the van.  Then it was back to worry as the evening saw Aaron feeling poorly again and throwing up all of his soup he ate at supper.  Our day had ended as it began, with some worry about Aaron’s health. 

Today, though, he went to Paradigm……..and today saw me with some tears.  That’s for another story.  Another day.

There’s always another day and another story with Aaron. 

And often another red face for Mom.  It’s OK.  I’ve learned to smile, red face or not.

 

 

Connecting the Dots

A year ago, Gary and I were in midst of making a very difficult decision……a decision that meant we would leave a place and a people that we loved because reconciliation had been denied to us.  It was a painful time for us, as well as for some dear friends that were left behind.  One day one of those friends called and asked if she and her husband could come over that evening to talk to us.  Gary and I were happy to have them come, but we didn’t think we should talk too much about the situation.  We really didn’t know what the visit would entail………or what a huge blessing awaited us.

Mike and Beth sat on the love seat in our living room that night, while Gary and I sat on the couch.  We exchanged small talk, and then one thing led to another as Mike and Beth started telling us about their youth.  They told us how they came to know the Lord; about how they met; about their dating days and their engagement, and then their marriage.  Through laughter and shaking of heads, they shared with us some stories of their early rocky experiences but also of how gracious God was to them in so many ways.  Their differing backgrounds and their stubbornness and their immaturity all melded together over the months and years as God worked on them, and exhibited to them His continuing grace.  They grew in their love for the Lord and their love for each other.  God blessed them with three wonderful children who love and serve the Lord today. 

Gary and I sat there, listening and laughing as they told their story.  Yet I must admit that I wondered why they were telling us all of this.  We thought that Mike and Beth had come to encourage us in this painful time, and while our visit was very enjoyable it just wasn’t exactly what I expected.  Until Mike reached a point in their story where he sat up on the edge of that love seat and excitedly said, “You see, God had a plan for Beth and me.  All along, He was connecting the dots in our lives and bringing us to where we needed to be…….and He still is doing that today.”  Mike continued, “I don’t know what all has happened with you guys, and I don’t need to know.  But I do know that God is connecting the dots in your lives, too.”

So simple.  So amazing.  God pried open my heart with those words and the tears rolled down my cheeks.  I didn’t have to say a word or share a word about our situation.  The Holy Spirit was there, directing the conversation and using it to soothe our hurting hearts. 

I’ve given that night and Mike’s words a lot of thought over the months since.  God connecting the dots………orchestrating the events in our lives in such a way that the end result is a beautiful picture, full of His handiwork and love. 

It reminds me of the pictures I used to work on in my coloring books, those dot-to-dot pictures.  I used to love doing those.  Sometimes it was fairly easy to see what the finished picture was going to be, but as I got older I enjoyed the harder pictures.  Those were the ones that were more difficult to figure out before they were fully finished.  There was just a mass of numbered dots but no order.  Yet as I carefully followed the numbers……1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and so on, the picture eventually took shape. 

 

 

In Psalm 37:3, David said that a man’s steps are established…….are directed……by the Lord.  Each step of ours God directs, even bringing us back into order when we mess up.  It’s easy to look back now and see how step 1 led to step 2 and so forth.  But I’m still stepping and still following, often unsure of where the next dot is or the next number, but knowing that God has promised to direct each step that I take.  Just as I can look back at some of the connected dots and see the picture taking shape, I can also look ahead with full trust that God is connecting the dots, guiding my way.

 

And there’s another beautiful truth connected to all this business of connecting the dots.  It’s something that Peter wrote about in I Peter 2:21.  He said that Jesus left us an example to follow.  That word for example means an outline of a sketch that is waiting to be filled in with details.  Jesus designs the sketch of our lives and then carefully fills in the details that are designed for each of us.  My unique details will not be your unique details.  Or my husband’s or my children’s, even. 

 

God is leading me, step by step.  And as each step is taken, each dot is connecting and forming a sketch……a design made just for me……..in which God then carefully colors in the most beautiful details that I can ever imagine. 

 

Some of the dots may be full of pain…..others with laughter…..some with doubts and questions…….many with hurt…….and a few with carefree ease.  Parts of my sketch may already be completed, other parts are partially done, and still some haven’t even been started.  But one day, I’ll be able to look and see a wonderful picture, whether simple or complex, completed with God’s direction and with His brush strokes of sovereign love.

 

There sure is a lot I don’t understand about so many things.  I still have questions that roll around in my mind during the dark hours of the night…….pain in my heart at some of the hurt we’ve experienced……..wondering why and how things happened the way they did.  But I love thinking about those dots that are connecting into what will someday be a complete and fully understood picture, thanks to God’s grace.

 

When I last talked to Mike and Beth about that night, and asked if I could write about it, both of them laughed and said they couldn’t even remember what all they said.  Oh, but Gary and I remember, because God wanted us to hear those words and to have that lesson penetrate our hearts. 

Connecting the dots. 

And seeing a sketch filled in with God’s perfect details.