Starting planing out things with Niamh on how to go about teaching them to make movies. I know how to teach young adults. Introduce them to basic story structure, character development. Idea webs, and outlines. Draft, Draft, draft until you have something that might look something like a movie script. Children don't have this kind of patience. My daughter spent most of the time trying to name her production company, and couldn't understand why couldn't film in the kitchen that instant. She also wanted to be in charge and I interpreted her selfishness, as an act of defiance, and not the typical response of a child with Asperger's. After some tears I decided to back off, and let her just start making up a story and I'd do my best to write it down. She focused on character development and what each character was like why they were the way they were. Astonishing! Considering I thought she would be much more interested in stimulating yet unconnected anecdotal details. For Niamh it would be a science experiment scene, or the protaganist has glasses. Instead this is what I got.
A story about a girl who is trapped in a life she doesn't like. Her name is Rebecca. She wants to be a scientist who studies canines, foxes in particular, but instead is forced to be an actress by her evil Aunt Vivi. Her parents left her in Vivi's care because they are "those kind of people". Rebecca is also 7 and has red hair. She is from Texas and is shooting a movie set in Egypt. Vivi is 43, and is cruel and ambitious with dreams of Rebecca being a movie star, which she is well on her way. Agerfer, is 12. Agerfer, is a girl with dark skin. I assume African American, but I didn't think to clarify as I didn't want to interrupt Niamh's flow of consciousness. She is the hero of the story she will eventually save Rebecca, although she doesn't know how yet. The girls also become best friends.
I don't think it a bad start...
Monday, October 4, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
just thinking...
These thoughts come to me every once in a while, moments where I recognize the blessing of it all, in a crystal clear, powerfully vibrant explosion of truth.
This week Tadhg has had a cold, a nasty, coughing, runny nose thing, and through all the fussing and tears, he has had the words to tell me all about it. At first, it just adds to the stress of 4 sick kids, while I myself am not feeling too hot but then it comes back to me, taking my breath away, how life used to be for us. Living in the city, still in the beginning of figuring out what it all means to be a parent and a family with something different about us. And then there is the now, a cozy home with a yard, a cat, a bunny, 4 kids running about, learning thru living in the burbs in Illinois. Not that now is easier than then, just different.
It hit me today that no matter how many times it happens, I am still amazed whenever my son tells me how he feels, that he loves me, or even little things like "mommy, my ear hurts, it makes me sad"...a precious thing we often take for granted, and a skill my girls are still learning at ages 5 and 8...he'll be 3 this valentine's day and I am finally breathing easier that autism will not be his personal journey. For all intensive purposes, it looks like he beat the odds. Statistically, as a boy with 2 sisters on the autistic spectrum, he should be severely affected. However, it is just not there. Praise God!
At the age Tadhg is now, Niamh was still almost non-verbal after losing language the year before, and the neurologist, neuropsych and doctors were her entire life as we searched for answers. Efa was on the way and we were determined to beat this thing that took the eye contact and words away from us. We knew she was in there and nothing could make me give up my quest to figure this out, to find the clues to put the puzzle back together for my baby girl. At the same age, thanks to our experiences with Niamh, Efa's daily routine for years had involved ot, pt, speech and the stress of dealing with the constant bombardment of sensory overload. Her words were better, but the near violent meltdowns were not an if, they were a when. I remember the first time our physical therapist, who happened to be a neighbor, saw Efa in full meltdown because we had to leave the community pool. I could see the shock and concern on her face as I struggled to wrap my munchkin up in a towel to keep her from hurting herself. The water was her favorite place, she felt good in the pool, and unfortunately at some point we just had to leave. The sensory impact of the change overcame her nervous system and in that moment I realized that my normal, well, it just wasn't. Carol came and helped me scoop her into the stroller and strap her in so I could securely hurry her across the street and back to her "safe" place at home. She couldn't tell me how she felt that day, but I could feel it thru her eyes, I gave her the words she couldn't access, and God gave me the strength to carry thru, like so many times before and since.
At nearly 3 years old, life for them was about healing, taking 1 step forward, 2 steps back, therapy, learning, and alot of prayer. I feel like I should have several degrees for all of the late nights, hours, weeks, months, and years of research I've done. I wish I had had more time and energy to write it all down, but maybe now is a better time, when I can look back over the triumph, and not be crushed by the not knowing of it all. That said, I will always battle the questions of "what if" for them, those taunting demons that encroach in my weaker moments. If we only knew then what we know now. Tadhg has never been vaccinated, a choice strongly supported by our medical team. He has never really had dairy, no artificial colors, flavors, preservatives, no junk of any kind. He has only ever lived in a home with non-toxic, mostly organic cleaners, soaps, and even diapers. I have to fight the thought that he is healthy and strong because they were not. And the lies that I should have known better, could have done something, anything, and it would be different.
But then, I look up, I watch and listen to the girls as they play. Together. Taking turns, listening to eachother's ideas. They shouldn't be doing that if autism won. I feel Efa's once chubby, but increasingly slim arms wrap around my middle as she tells me "Mom, give me a big hug!" If the sensory overload had won, there would be no squishy bear hugs. I am overjoyed as I watch Niamh reach out to other children, often those that don't always have a friend, loving on them, telling them they are cool, fun and special. If the social disorder had won, there would not be a long list of friends waiting for a playdate. The battles we face regarding autism, we fight, with God's strength and the knowledge and peace that comes form trusting in His perfect plan for our girls. It isn't anyone else's normal, but I really don't care. It's mine, and I am more than ok with that. The beauty that surrounds me far outweighs the stress of being "different". If people don't get it, too bad for them.
I am perpetually blessed by the gifts my girls have, gifts that i know are made stronger by the "disorder"/differences that they face. They amaze and astound me with their intelligence, creativity and love, their understanding of God and his plan for their lives and the joy they share with others. And whether they realize it yet or not, their "normal" little brother worships the ground they walk on. He will fight just to be with them, for them to include him and love him. And as I watch his love for his 2 big sisters grow, I know without a doubt, that he will fight for them always, and that God gave them a mighty protector in that determined little man.
And at the end of it all, to God be the glory for our successes, on Him I rely for strength and hope when things are rough. And in full honesty, our crazy, creative, brave and different family is perfection to me, and i would never have our normal be anything other than it is...
This week Tadhg has had a cold, a nasty, coughing, runny nose thing, and through all the fussing and tears, he has had the words to tell me all about it. At first, it just adds to the stress of 4 sick kids, while I myself am not feeling too hot but then it comes back to me, taking my breath away, how life used to be for us. Living in the city, still in the beginning of figuring out what it all means to be a parent and a family with something different about us. And then there is the now, a cozy home with a yard, a cat, a bunny, 4 kids running about, learning thru living in the burbs in Illinois. Not that now is easier than then, just different.
It hit me today that no matter how many times it happens, I am still amazed whenever my son tells me how he feels, that he loves me, or even little things like "mommy, my ear hurts, it makes me sad"...a precious thing we often take for granted, and a skill my girls are still learning at ages 5 and 8...he'll be 3 this valentine's day and I am finally breathing easier that autism will not be his personal journey. For all intensive purposes, it looks like he beat the odds. Statistically, as a boy with 2 sisters on the autistic spectrum, he should be severely affected. However, it is just not there. Praise God!
At the age Tadhg is now, Niamh was still almost non-verbal after losing language the year before, and the neurologist, neuropsych and doctors were her entire life as we searched for answers. Efa was on the way and we were determined to beat this thing that took the eye contact and words away from us. We knew she was in there and nothing could make me give up my quest to figure this out, to find the clues to put the puzzle back together for my baby girl. At the same age, thanks to our experiences with Niamh, Efa's daily routine for years had involved ot, pt, speech and the stress of dealing with the constant bombardment of sensory overload. Her words were better, but the near violent meltdowns were not an if, they were a when. I remember the first time our physical therapist, who happened to be a neighbor, saw Efa in full meltdown because we had to leave the community pool. I could see the shock and concern on her face as I struggled to wrap my munchkin up in a towel to keep her from hurting herself. The water was her favorite place, she felt good in the pool, and unfortunately at some point we just had to leave. The sensory impact of the change overcame her nervous system and in that moment I realized that my normal, well, it just wasn't. Carol came and helped me scoop her into the stroller and strap her in so I could securely hurry her across the street and back to her "safe" place at home. She couldn't tell me how she felt that day, but I could feel it thru her eyes, I gave her the words she couldn't access, and God gave me the strength to carry thru, like so many times before and since.
At nearly 3 years old, life for them was about healing, taking 1 step forward, 2 steps back, therapy, learning, and alot of prayer. I feel like I should have several degrees for all of the late nights, hours, weeks, months, and years of research I've done. I wish I had had more time and energy to write it all down, but maybe now is a better time, when I can look back over the triumph, and not be crushed by the not knowing of it all. That said, I will always battle the questions of "what if" for them, those taunting demons that encroach in my weaker moments. If we only knew then what we know now. Tadhg has never been vaccinated, a choice strongly supported by our medical team. He has never really had dairy, no artificial colors, flavors, preservatives, no junk of any kind. He has only ever lived in a home with non-toxic, mostly organic cleaners, soaps, and even diapers. I have to fight the thought that he is healthy and strong because they were not. And the lies that I should have known better, could have done something, anything, and it would be different.
But then, I look up, I watch and listen to the girls as they play. Together. Taking turns, listening to eachother's ideas. They shouldn't be doing that if autism won. I feel Efa's once chubby, but increasingly slim arms wrap around my middle as she tells me "Mom, give me a big hug!" If the sensory overload had won, there would be no squishy bear hugs. I am overjoyed as I watch Niamh reach out to other children, often those that don't always have a friend, loving on them, telling them they are cool, fun and special. If the social disorder had won, there would not be a long list of friends waiting for a playdate. The battles we face regarding autism, we fight, with God's strength and the knowledge and peace that comes form trusting in His perfect plan for our girls. It isn't anyone else's normal, but I really don't care. It's mine, and I am more than ok with that. The beauty that surrounds me far outweighs the stress of being "different". If people don't get it, too bad for them.
I am perpetually blessed by the gifts my girls have, gifts that i know are made stronger by the "disorder"/differences that they face. They amaze and astound me with their intelligence, creativity and love, their understanding of God and his plan for their lives and the joy they share with others. And whether they realize it yet or not, their "normal" little brother worships the ground they walk on. He will fight just to be with them, for them to include him and love him. And as I watch his love for his 2 big sisters grow, I know without a doubt, that he will fight for them always, and that God gave them a mighty protector in that determined little man.
And at the end of it all, to God be the glory for our successes, on Him I rely for strength and hope when things are rough. And in full honesty, our crazy, creative, brave and different family is perfection to me, and i would never have our normal be anything other than it is...
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Inertia
I read a review for "Creation". It's a British film chronicling Charles Darwin's life as he struggled to write and publish his controversial and world-changing book "Origin of Species". Wherein he introduces the world to the concept of evolution and coined the phrase "survival of the fittest." I know the reviewer generally panned it as "uninteresting", but the overall concept was well intentioned, just ill-conceived. What stuck out to me was Darwin's fear of what the book and his theory would do to not just the world, but his wife, a devout Christian. If there is no God, and this is all, life, just a struggle to survive and adapt, and there is no greater Kingdom or purpose what becomes us? When the inertia of intellect and intellect of the Spirit collide, what then? I found myself pondering this. Regardless of your opinions of Evolution or the concept of a Godless universe, or at least a ruddlerless universe. What would it be like if life was devoid of purpose or guiding force? It seems as impossible as God creating a universe in 6 days. Our souls know this doesn't add up. To deny that evidence of God or intelligent designer is the same as denying the fossil record or carbon dating. What then does one make of this conflict? I'm not a scientist, but being as trendy as the next hipster I'm pridefully addicted to jargon and so I desperately want to be an expert on all topics. However, time, my attention span, and my broader interests don't allow me to dive into this arena in anyway adequate to come to anything resembling a definitive answer, and unless someone invents a time machine, no one else can know either really. The reason I bring this up is I had something of a faith crisis the last couple of weeks. I would love to feed you the cliche of I was just struggling and this struggle grew my faith, well, actually it kind of did, but at the time it was as close to an outright denial as I've ever come to. Let me break it down. I was feeling sorry for myself because I still don't have full-time work. On top of that I had a tough week at my contract job. I let this stress really get to me, and to be blunt I was pretty abusive verbally to my family. I'd hear the typical news of the recession on the news, and how the banks get huge bonuses while others lose their house, and how I may be facing that very real specter soon. I thought about everything that went down at Harvest, and how can a church do that to a family. I thought about the quake in Haiti and all the suffering there. About all the innocent children who either died, or were maimed or orphaned. The killer was a conversation I had with Sarah. She told me very honestly, "I don't know who you are, we have to live together, but I can't have a relationship with you while you're like this. I have to treat you like a roommate. I have to protect my kids." I wonder how many men hear something like this from their wives, and never in a million years thought they would ever hear it? And I wonder how many more would know they're right? I knew she was right, and it destroyed me, like nothing else has ever destroyed me. So, I did the mature rational thing. I cursed God. I told Him, "If You're real and let these things happen than you're cruel. If You're not real, than I won't waste my breath because that's all I have left." I would like to say that God showed up right then, but I believe God is not "punked". Whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.
Inertia. Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to a change in its state of motion. It takes two things to put an object in motion time, and energy. I spent a lot of time being self-focused. I spent a lot of energy on my career. Even when presented with an opportunity to change stopping that selfish train was much harder than I could have imagined. Even when presented with all the blessings I received this summer and fall I resisted. The mass and energy of my past pushed forward despite best intentions.
I got a call today from my mortgage lender today. They are modifying my loan. The 4 months of back payments have been erased and I start with a clean slate on March 1st. Praise God!
I spent the last few months waiting for pre-foreclosure to start, trying to figure out how I was going to come up with the thousands of dollars to keep my family from becoming homeless. Now I have a new deal. It was at the moment when the ruminations of the past few months and weeks coalesced into a single collective truth. Grace makes inertia, inert. In other words grace defeats your past, defeats your literally and figurative demons. Its the hand that stops the wrecking ball. It also defeats the logic of survival of the fittest, because it has no interest in self. It's completely illogical, yet sets the world right. Grace evokes change. Grace is how we evolve. I used inertia in a negative context, but inertia like most things can be used for good or evil. What would my life be like if I consistently wrote? What would my life be like if I consistently sought God in prayer? What would things be like if I consistently read and studied the Bible? What would my life be like if I acted on what I really know to be the truth? What if I gave to the poor? What if I got involved in helping the helpless? What if I joined in on the inertia of grace and love? If this is what I sow, what will I reap?
Inertia. Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to a change in its state of motion. It takes two things to put an object in motion time, and energy. I spent a lot of time being self-focused. I spent a lot of energy on my career. Even when presented with an opportunity to change stopping that selfish train was much harder than I could have imagined. Even when presented with all the blessings I received this summer and fall I resisted. The mass and energy of my past pushed forward despite best intentions.
I got a call today from my mortgage lender today. They are modifying my loan. The 4 months of back payments have been erased and I start with a clean slate on March 1st. Praise God!
I spent the last few months waiting for pre-foreclosure to start, trying to figure out how I was going to come up with the thousands of dollars to keep my family from becoming homeless. Now I have a new deal. It was at the moment when the ruminations of the past few months and weeks coalesced into a single collective truth. Grace makes inertia, inert. In other words grace defeats your past, defeats your literally and figurative demons. Its the hand that stops the wrecking ball. It also defeats the logic of survival of the fittest, because it has no interest in self. It's completely illogical, yet sets the world right. Grace evokes change. Grace is how we evolve. I used inertia in a negative context, but inertia like most things can be used for good or evil. What would my life be like if I consistently wrote? What would my life be like if I consistently sought God in prayer? What would things be like if I consistently read and studied the Bible? What would my life be like if I acted on what I really know to be the truth? What if I gave to the poor? What if I got involved in helping the helpless? What if I joined in on the inertia of grace and love? If this is what I sow, what will I reap?
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