Major moment

[Guest guest]

As I was doing my post-Christmas cleaning this year, I decided to tackle the

dormant " autism therapy cabinets. " They had been dormant for almost nine

months now (as my two boys are largely recovered), but it was peaceful to

let them sit. But today, lacking anything better to do, I opened the three

drawers full of picture cards, fluency charts and homemade games, and began

sorting. What to do with ten pounds of single image photo cards??? I

pulled out tool after tool, astonished at the sheer quantity of arts &

crafts, homemade books, and games that it took to get my boys well. After

30 minutes, I sank back away from the mess I had made and had an epiphany.

The sheer magnitude of work, creativity and product that it took to tackle

autism was enormous. I sat on the other side of the miracle of recovery and

couldn't believe we actually did it. We made it! I picked up a picture

card stash of " possessive pronouns. " Did it really take more than 4 months

to master those? I looked at kitchen items. Did it really take a month to

teach what a microwave was? I remember the frustration of taking Evy into

the kitchen and asking him to show me the microwave. Over and over, he

would smile at me and walk toward something, hoping to see me smile and

indicate that he was walking the right way. Day after day, I pointed it out

and it just wouldn't stick! Then the moment a light bulb went off (in my

head, not his), and I handed him a bag of microwave popcorn and said, " Put

it in the microwave. " He smiled and wandered. I led him over to it, we

popped it together and ate. We did it the next day, and the third day, he

knew where the microwave was. The joy! A microwave!

This is what I felt, sitting back, looking at the piles of effort, and it

struck me. Awe at the miracle, and fear that it might not have happened.

Awe that we ever had the patience and perseverance to see it through, and

physical sickness--I actually became nauseous when I understood that we

saved a boy. And it wasn't really in my hands. It might not have happened.

I felt sick at the possibility,

But it DID happen. Ethan, 3, is sitting happily on my lap, showing me his

" owies " and looking for kisses, sticking Q-tips in his ears and saying,

Watch this! " And Evy (almost 6) just wandered in with digimon toys stuck to

his fingers and said, " Look Mom, I have 12 fingers! Ha ha! Just kidding! "

So I guess I am writing to show my respect to all of you who are still

plugging away, making your miracles. You don't know how AWESOME you are.

But I have had my moment to reflect, and want to share with the only people

who know what I mean, that you are INCREDIBLE! You are MIRACULOUS! You are

BEAUTIFUL! I honor you. Keep working. God bless you all. I have to go,

my SON WANTS TO PLAY WITH ME!

t Burk

Www.autismteachingtools.com

[Guest guest]

Thank you for your encouraging sharing.

Getting there,

Lee fang

[ ] Major moment

As I was doing my post-Christmas cleaning this year, I decided to tackle

the

dormant " autism therapy cabinets. " They had been dormant for almost

nine

months now (as my two boys are largely recovered), but it was peaceful

to

let them sit. But today, lacking anything better to do, I opened the

three

drawers full of picture cards, fluency charts and homemade games, and

began

sorting. What to do with ten pounds of single image photo cards??? I

pulled out tool after tool, astonished at the sheer quantity of arts &

crafts, homemade books, and games that it took to get my boys well.

After

30 minutes, I sank back away from the mess I had made and had an

epiphany.

The sheer magnitude of work, creativity and product that it took to

tackle

autism was enormous. I sat on the other side of the miracle of recovery

and

couldn't believe we actually did it. We made it! I picked up a picture

card stash of " possessive pronouns. " Did it really take more than 4

months

to master those? I looked at kitchen items. Did it really take a month

to

teach what a microwave was? I remember the frustration of taking Evy

into

the kitchen and asking him to show me the microwave. Over and over, he

would smile at me and walk toward something, hoping to see me smile and

indicate that he was walking the right way. Day after day, I pointed it

out

and it just wouldn't stick! Then the moment a light bulb went off (in

my

head, not his), and I handed him a bag of microwave popcorn and said,

" Put

it in the microwave. " He smiled and wandered. I led him over to it, we

popped it together and ate. We did it the next day, and the third day,

he

knew where the microwave was. The joy! A microwave!

This is what I felt, sitting back, looking at the piles of effort, and

it

struck me. Awe at the miracle, and fear that it might not have

happened.

Awe that we ever had the patience and perseverance to see it through,

and

physical sickness--I actually became nauseous when I understood that we

saved a boy. And it wasn't really in my hands. It might not have

happened.

I felt sick at the possibility,

But it DID happen. Ethan, 3, is sitting happily on my lap, showing me

his

" owies " and looking for kisses, sticking Q-tips in his ears and saying,

Watch this! " And Evy (almost 6) just wandered in with digimon toys

stuck to

his fingers and said, " Look Mom, I have 12 fingers! Ha ha! Just

kidding! "

So I guess I am writing to show my respect to all of you who are still

plugging away, making your miracles. You don't know how AWESOME you

are.

But I have had my moment to reflect, and want to share with the only

people

who know what I mean, that you are INCREDIBLE! You are MIRACULOUS! You

are

BEAUTIFUL! I honor you. Keep working. God bless you all. I have to

go,

my SON WANTS TO PLAY WITH ME!

t Burk

Www.autismteachingtools.com

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