Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

Que sera' sera'.  Depending on the context with which the phrase is given, it can be either light-hearted and flippant or a sad sign of resignation.  But what does it mean?  Translated from Spanish, it means literally, "whatever will be will be."

I have four children.  Growing up I always thought I would have 5.  Maybe I will, maybe I won't, but this is the lot I have in life at present.  If I have more, I have more.  But right now, I focus on the little ones currently placed in my charge.  As a mother, I take every day as it comes and face the challenges therein head on, whether I feel I am prepared for them or not.  Sometimes I feel as if I have succeeded in overcoming the obstacles standing in the way of my children's growth and potential.  Far too often, I feel that I have lost the battle in my struggles to help them become all they can be.

Nathaniel has had many struggles this year.  He has mentioned countless times that he wishes he could start his life all over again.  He has said that he wished he were dead or wanted to go back to last night, rewind, and start the day again.  He is heartbroken when he cannot.  He wishes that he didn't have the obstacles that stand in his way.  He is realizing that he is different from most children and doesn't know how to take it.  So what does he do?

He runs.  If he gets frustrated with a situation, he runs.  He just may make a great track athlete some day because he is fast.  He runs to get away from the noise.  He runs to get away from the perceived ridicule from his classmates.  He runs to try to escape the pain he receives when he stubs his toe or smashes his finger.  He runs to get away from his own anger and hurt.  But the hardest part of all is that what he is running from most is the little boy that he is, trapped, as he sees it, because he knows he doesn't understand the world around him and realizes even more that the world around him does not understand him either.  He doesn't fit the mold.  So he wants to escape everyone and everything and just go into nature and hide in the wilderness or the forest.

He is too young for us to allow him to run there.  It's not safe.  We have to catch him and restrain him.   We have to try to help calm him when he is struggling against us, trying to get away, his little heart beating faster than the rhythm of a cat's purr, not nearly so calming, and rather alarming.  It breaks my heart when I see the anguish he goes through, the inability to get people to understand him, the inability to comprehend why he can't be normal.

But as I tell Nathaniel and Nyssa, they will never be normal.  They are not the typical children that are raised by the manuals.  They have Autism Spectrum.  They see the world differently.  But that's not a bad thing.  It is a tremendous, horrifyingly beautiful aspect of who they are.  Sometimes I think I would benefit by seeing the world through their eyes.  The perspective they have is so pure, so complex and yet so simple.  They have this ability to come at matters from an entirely different point of view.  They see things as black and white.  There is no grey.  It is or it is not, and it always will be.  If it changes then something is just out of sorts and needs to be fixed.   How much simpler would life be if, as an adult, I still saw some things as black and white as I did as a child?   

Treat one another respectfully.  Be polite.  Always say please and thank you.  Say what you mean and mean what you say.  Be honest.  If you don't understand, ask why without being ashamed that you don't know the answer.  Tell someone when they hurt your feelings.  Say "I'm sorry" when you realize you hurt theirs. 

That last component is vital to humanity as a whole.  Up until recently, Nathaniel did not realize how his actions affect others.  He didn't understand cause and effect in any way shape or form.  He did not connect that hitting his sister just may earn him a hit in return and would be devastatingly crushed when she would strike back.

Nathaniel is a very picky eater, not only about textures, but also about color and whether his food touches another type of food on his plate.  If I notice it quickly enough, I will move the food over so the components are completely separated one from another.  About a month ago, I failed to catch it.  He had a fit at the dinner table because broccoli was touching his rice and he did not like it.  He ran upstairs, fuming, ranting and raving, to his room.  I let him go so every one else could eat and planned to go check on him after the other children were finished.  I was amazed and shock at what happened less than five minutes later.

He came downstairs, completely calm and composed.  Nathaniel walked up to me and did something he had never done before.  He took my hand and said, "I'm sorry, Mommy.  I was wrong.  I should not have run away.  I should not have been mean to you."  I was completely flabbergasted and nearly flooded the kitchen floor with tears that threatened to flow.  He gave me a hug, which I delightfully returned and said, "I forgive you, honey."  That was the moment.

For the first time in his six years, he fully understood that his actions were his responsibility, and that they were wrongly expressed.  For the first time, he apologized for something he had done with absolutely no prompting from any other person.  He felt it in his heart and he got it, really, truly, got it.  He sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat with the rest of us.  He then looked at me and said, "I don't wish I had died anymore either, Mommy.  I'm ok." 

Several times since then he has realized the effects his actions have had on us and has given heartfelt apologies for them, not just repeating what we tell him to say, but coming to us of his own accord in repentance for his doings.  It's clicking, and he's going to be okay.  He's making the connections with this vital step in communication with the world around him, with relationships with those who love him dearly.  He has taken the step that we had prayed for, which is the basis for all interaction he has with others that will come and go throughout his life.  It has taken a long time to get there, but he is on the right track.


In spite of all my aspirations of growing up and becoming the perfect wife and mother who was the ultimate encourager, cheerleader, and overall image of Donna Reed to my husband and little prodigies, the time came when I would come face to face with reality.  Eventually realizing that television is expertly scripted by an assortment of writers who have days to come up with a problem, the characters' reactions and the inevitable solution helped free me from the illusion that everything turns out rosy at the end of the day.  Real life is raw, and we choose the script as we live, and we don't always have the luxury of debating how we will respond, because our true character will make itself known as we live and breathe.  But what further freed me was the discovery that I can wake up the next morning and feel as Nina Simone sang, "It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me and I'm feeling good." 

There may be a great amount of heartache in the day, there may be sorrow that lasts for some long, lonely nights that must be persevered.  But when you least expect it, something wonderful happens: joy!  Joy comes in the morning, and when the light shines brighter and brighter, breaking through the clouds to the noonday sun, it is overwhelming, unfathomable, joy unspeakable.