So reading these books has sparked a memory that I've been meaning to share. It's about Noah...
For about 3 weeks last summer my sister kept Noah during the day so that I could get my office hours done. For some reason, all of my sister's kids go through a mean stage around 4 years of age. (Seriously, it must be some genetic thing! I can hardly stand to be around them but they usually end up at "Camp GiGi" to get some Jesus and have it exorcized from their little hearts at some point during this year). My nephew turned 4 last March, so he was in the throes of his meanness last summer. Each day when I would pick Noah up he would be quiet but nothing really concerned me until the end of the first week.
I got out of the car and could hear my sister screaming at the top of her lungs from the pool in the backyard. "Do it Noah! I said do it!" I ran to the back wondering what on earth Noah had done to make my sister go over the edge and found her holding her son down and Noah cowering 5 feet away. When he saw me he immediately ran and threw himself into my legs and began hysterically weeping. Because language is hard for him, I just got him over the dry heaves and sent him into the house to get a cool drink of water. I asked my sister what happened and here is what she said:
"Grady (her little boy) has been mean as a snake all week long. He has been merciless to Noah. He has hit him and bit him and kicked him and yelled at him and made fun of him and I've had enough of it! So when he tried to drown Noah in the pool and was beating him up I wrestled Grady to the ground and told Noah to hit him back! Enough is enough! I must've confused Noah because he didn't know what to do. Explain to him that I am not mad at him, but that I am trying to help him take care of himself."
So I went into the house and it took me 10 minutes to find Noah. He was under my sister's bed weeping into the carpet. I couldn't get him out so I just laid there beside him until I could get him to the point where he could talk. I finally asked, "Grady has been pretty mean hasn't he?" Noah answered, "yes ma'am."
I reasoned, "Aunt Stephanie was trying to teach Grady a lesson. She was trying to help you defend yourself. She isn't mad at you. She just wanted to give you a chance to hit Grady back."
At this, Noah became completely hysterical again. Finally, I asked, "Noah what is wrong?" He said, "I can't."
I said, "Can't what baby? What can't you do?"
Noah cried, "I can't hit Grady. Please don't make me. I can't hit Grady!"
"Why baby? It's okay. Why can't you? You are 8 and he is only 4. You are so much bigger than he is? Why can't you hit him? Why do you let him beat you up?"
The next words would stop me in my tracks and become a matter of serious debate in my family for weeks.
"Because I love him," and Noah began to weep even harder.
The idea of striking Grady cut him to the core not because he was afraid of doing it, but because he loved him too much to retaliate. The debate that ensued is something that grieves me now. Had I read these books last summer, I could've stopped it. But instead, I just let the family carry on their debate which went something like this: "This is why Noah will always need someone to take care of him. Aren't you afraid of what kind of person he'll become when he grows up? He'll never make it. Poor Noah. Poor you. You'll be caring for Noah for the rest of your life. Autism has done this to him."
Autism has done this to him. Huh?
Autism cleared his neurologically deformed brain of pride long enough not to think of himself but of someone else. Autism convinced Noah not to consider his own injuries but to see the person who was injuring him as one in need of patience and compassion. Autism stopped him from perpetuating the cycle of violence. Autism caused him to love someone else more than himself. Autism made him more like Jesus. Maybe we need more autistic people in this world.
Strangely enough, Grady stopped being mean to Noah that day.
After all of this reading (I'm almost done and will get your books back to you soon:), I remembered this horrible day. When I picked Noah up on Friday of last week I asked him if he remembered that day. Tears sprang to his eyes and he said "Yes ma'am. I still love Grady but I want to be a good boy but please don't make me hit him." I pulled the car over and climbed into back seat. I held that neuro-diverse little person in my arms and told him that he was right and everyone else was wrong and that he had soon what Jesus would have wanted him to do.
I guess Jesus was neuro-diverse too.
Celebrate neuro-diversity...Vangie
YES!
