“Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my
path.”~“Thy Word” by Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith
Last week, a sudden storm knocked out the electricity to our home briefly, sending the three of us into darkness. Although Alex tends to be unnerved by thunderstorms, he has learned over the years that we will quickly assemble flashlights and candles so that he can see. After a recent power outage that lasted hours, we bought him a pair of “Super Bright Switches”: battery-operated LED lights that look like light switches and give off bright light, as advertised and recommended by my mom. As soon as the power flickered, I took a flashlight and ran and got his Super Bright Switch so that he could carry around light easily and feel secure. Alex seemed content to have the ability to flip a switch to gain light quickly, and fortunately, the electricity came back on shortly afterward.
In dealing with autism, we often find ourselves stumbling in the darkness, searching for a light that can easily be turned on with the flick of a switch. After dealing with Alex’s sudden and uncharacteristic food aversion for over a year, we found the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel” when we began working with a speech therapist last month. Although I thought helping him overcome his issues with the tastes, textures, and temperatures of food would take months, his speech therapist felt confident Alex could conquer his anxiety about eating more quickly. She was right.
In our session last week, she declared that Alex had graduated from therapy with her and would no longer need speech therapy for food aversion. After only five sessions in less than two months, she had taught Alex how to enjoy food again. In that last session, he was able to tell her that he had tried more than a dozen varied foods in the two weeks since he had last seen her, and he liked almost all of them. Suddenly, he was suggesting foods he’d like to eat, something that we had not seen in more than a year. Another sign of a breakthrough was his telling us that he was hungry––a sharp contrast to his more recent behavior of protesting that he didn’t want to eat because he was already full.
Although we were delighted that Alex made such rapid progress in overcoming a problem that had plagued him for several months, we were also a bit sad to say goodbye to his therapist. However, she assured us that if Alex ever needs her, she will always be happy to help. In the brief time we worked with her, she had endeared herself to us through her patience, kindness, and enthusiasm. Most of all, she genuinely cared about Alex and celebrated each step of progress with us. When we couldn’t find a way, she enlightened us.
On Friday evening, we took Alex to see a Homecoming celebration fireworks display at Valparaiso University, where Ed teaches and I received my college degrees. Even though fireworks should cause sensory overload for Alex with the loud noises and flashing lights, going to the Homecoming fireworks is an annual event he eagerly anticipates. This year was no exception. Moreover, these fireworks seemed to be an appropriate way to celebrate all the progress Alex has made recently.
As the three of us watched the exploding multicolored lights in the sky, I thought of the motto of my alma mater: “In Luce Tua Videmus Lucem/In Thy Light We See Light.” Despite all the times we have trouble seeing the path for Alex, God has illuminated His purpose and shown us the way. Not only has He helped us find strategies and methods to help Alex, but He has also led us to other people whose expertise and support we needed to make Alex better. When we were in the dark, God provided the light so that we could see and have hope for the future.
While I thanked God for the progress Alex has made in overcoming his fear of storms and regaining his appetite and being willing to go places so that he can enjoy life, Alex was just mesmerized by the fireworks. With a smile on his face, he counted the flashes in the sky and proclaimed that he liked the fireworks “one hundred percent.” While his faith may be less analytic than mine, Alex’s faith is purer than mine. He trusts God implicitly, knowing that just beyond the darkness, the light will always shine brightly.
Last week, a sudden storm knocked out the electricity to our home briefly, sending the three of us into darkness. Although Alex tends to be unnerved by thunderstorms, he has learned over the years that we will quickly assemble flashlights and candles so that he can see. After a recent power outage that lasted hours, we bought him a pair of “Super Bright Switches”: battery-operated LED lights that look like light switches and give off bright light, as advertised and recommended by my mom. As soon as the power flickered, I took a flashlight and ran and got his Super Bright Switch so that he could carry around light easily and feel secure. Alex seemed content to have the ability to flip a switch to gain light quickly, and fortunately, the electricity came back on shortly afterward.
In dealing with autism, we often find ourselves stumbling in the darkness, searching for a light that can easily be turned on with the flick of a switch. After dealing with Alex’s sudden and uncharacteristic food aversion for over a year, we found the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel” when we began working with a speech therapist last month. Although I thought helping him overcome his issues with the tastes, textures, and temperatures of food would take months, his speech therapist felt confident Alex could conquer his anxiety about eating more quickly. She was right.
In our session last week, she declared that Alex had graduated from therapy with her and would no longer need speech therapy for food aversion. After only five sessions in less than two months, she had taught Alex how to enjoy food again. In that last session, he was able to tell her that he had tried more than a dozen varied foods in the two weeks since he had last seen her, and he liked almost all of them. Suddenly, he was suggesting foods he’d like to eat, something that we had not seen in more than a year. Another sign of a breakthrough was his telling us that he was hungry––a sharp contrast to his more recent behavior of protesting that he didn’t want to eat because he was already full.
Although we were delighted that Alex made such rapid progress in overcoming a problem that had plagued him for several months, we were also a bit sad to say goodbye to his therapist. However, she assured us that if Alex ever needs her, she will always be happy to help. In the brief time we worked with her, she had endeared herself to us through her patience, kindness, and enthusiasm. Most of all, she genuinely cared about Alex and celebrated each step of progress with us. When we couldn’t find a way, she enlightened us.
On Friday evening, we took Alex to see a Homecoming celebration fireworks display at Valparaiso University, where Ed teaches and I received my college degrees. Even though fireworks should cause sensory overload for Alex with the loud noises and flashing lights, going to the Homecoming fireworks is an annual event he eagerly anticipates. This year was no exception. Moreover, these fireworks seemed to be an appropriate way to celebrate all the progress Alex has made recently.
As the three of us watched the exploding multicolored lights in the sky, I thought of the motto of my alma mater: “In Luce Tua Videmus Lucem/In Thy Light We See Light.” Despite all the times we have trouble seeing the path for Alex, God has illuminated His purpose and shown us the way. Not only has He helped us find strategies and methods to help Alex, but He has also led us to other people whose expertise and support we needed to make Alex better. When we were in the dark, God provided the light so that we could see and have hope for the future.
While I thanked God for the progress Alex has made in overcoming his fear of storms and regaining his appetite and being willing to go places so that he can enjoy life, Alex was just mesmerized by the fireworks. With a smile on his face, he counted the flashes in the sky and proclaimed that he liked the fireworks “one hundred percent.” While his faith may be less analytic than mine, Alex’s faith is purer than mine. He trusts God implicitly, knowing that just beyond the darkness, the light will always shine brightly.
“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’ made
His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s
glory displayed in the face of Christ.” 2 Corinthians 4:6