It finally happened.

I was cooking dinner while Joseph was sitting at the kitchen table,  drawing a picture. He was excitedly narrating what he was drawing as he went along. I said to him, “I’ll know you want me to have a look when you say, ‘Mom, look at this.'”

Lo and behold, a few minutes later he said it. For the first time, ever!! “Mom, look at this!”

Then he drew something else and said it again. And so it’s continued for the last few days.

This evening he came into my room and said, “Mom, look at this train I drew!” He waited for me to look at him, and then the picture. Then he continued. “This one is the steam engine and this one is a passenger train. There is the track, and there are the rectangular windows.”

I remember declaring in an earlier post that, if Joseph ever said anything like, “Mom, look!” I would die happy. So when I die, please know that I have, indeed, died happily. 🙂

He’s also gone beyond just calling for my attention with  one little “Mom!” (which, in itself, was a huge milestone). Now it’s “Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!” Or, for that matter, “Dad! Dad! Dad!Dad! Dad!”

So something is changing. Some new neural pathways are forming, new synapses are firing. Something, somewhere is developing.

It’s exciting. It’s great. It’s — wow — very, very encouraging.

But.

(See? We can always find a but.)

Joseph still has autism.

And I think that maybe, perhaps, possibly even probably, he always will.

He may always have some funny, jerky movements. He may always have a more challenging time with interpersonal relationships. He may always have a not-so-good sense of what’s appropriate and what’s not in social situations.

But I also think that maybe, perhaps, possibly even probably, he’s going to make it in this world.

Joseph just seems to draw people who are good, kind and loving. Whether it’s teachers (this means you, M.P.), sitters,  or friends — both big and small — people love his good, kind, simple and innocent heart. He’s a  bit like Forrest Gump in that way — but more mentally switched on, thank God.

I’ve been listening to a talk that Dr. Temple Grandin gave at the MIND Institute (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wt1IY3ffoU). She is able to talk about her autism in a way that allows us ‘others’ to understand it better. She talks about a book she co-authored with another autistic person. He was more switched-on socially, so that was a bit difficult for them, but they both were obsessed with school buses, so that was cool.

I love the way she is able to laugh at herself. Autism has given her a different perspective than the “normal” person, and she has used this to carve out a unique and rewarding life. She offers hope — and ideas — for ways that people with autism can work, and live, and function in this world.

Maybe it’s not about making Joseph “normal.” Maybe it’s about helping him to do what we are all learning to do: manage our weaknesses and foster our strengths.

Maybe diversity isn’t so bad. I went to elementary school with an albino boy. He had white hair, always sat in the front row, wore very thick glasses and used a typewriter. He was also bright and funny, and, while we were fascinated with how he was different, we also loved him for who he was. We “got” him, in today’s vernacular.

So I think I’m going to stop acting apologetic about Joseph’s funny movements and lack of social graces. We will continue to help him grow in all ways, but we will also open more to the gifts of what we have.

When Joseph says, “Mom, look at this!” I want to remember that it’s not just “this” he is asking me to look at. He is also asking me to look at him — to see the beauty of his being, to be a part of his world. He wants me — and all the rest of us — to “get” him.

Sharing his world. I think that maybe, perhaps, possibly even probably, it doesn’t get any better than that.

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