Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Courage and Hope

I'm reminded frequently that my kids are extremely courageous. We had a nice visit with both of them in Alexandria, LA, this past weekend. T. got to ride the elevator at the local hotel, and both kids had a great time in the hotel's outdoor swimming pool. As we drove T. past the local hospital, where he is obsessive/compulsive about wanting to go play with the multi-storied elevators therein, we could hear him talking to himself--"okay, be quiet; okay, be quiet." He maintained his self-control, and we made it around the corner and down the street to WalMart without incident. It took guts for him to keep it together as we drove past that hospital.

Is it really almost Halloween? Well, how could I not know this, seeing how WalMart and Target have had their Halloween stuff out since late August.

We visited the newly refurbished St. Mary's miniature golf course on Sunday afternoon. The course was recently redone by the parents' group, and since we're parents, we accepted an invitation to walk over and have a look at it. We also visited a new group home for young adult men; it is nicer than our house inside. The improvements and additions up there give me hope for the future.


Casdok said...

Wow T, what self control!
Yep soon be halloween, doesnt the time fly!

Randy said...

There were a couple of sad moments over the weekend that still haunt me. First, one of the adult residents asked me repeatedly whose parents rebuilt the mini-golf course. I told him I didn't know, but it wasn't me. Later, I was told that this man has no parents; I guess he wanted me to say, "your parents." I'm relieved I didn't say that. However, being into one's twenties and not knowing one's parents must be devastating, particularly for someone with autism and mental retardation.

Second, when we went to view the adult group home, I could see my oldest son, T., watching from his window across the lawn. He wasn't at the window when we came back out. One of his instructors told me that he's seen T. on a weekend fill his backpack, then go to the window every now and again. He knows full well that we don't come every weekend, but it must give him hope.

Those are the kinds of things that tear into my heart like a jagged knife. I sometimes cry over them; other times, they make me burn with rage (under the surface, of course; I am me, after all) at the various people who, over the years, have found my parenting decisions wanting. My family situation is emotionally difficult for all of us; the silver lining in the dark cloud is that my boys are making progress by leaps and bounds, moreso than they would have done at home.