Wake of Echoes

“I can remember the frustration of not being able to talk.  I knew what I wanted to say, but I could not get the words out,  so I would just scream.”  —Temple Grandin How can you be heard if you can't speak?  How can you tell your story if people don't understand your language?  How will the neurotypical world know what living on the spectrum is really like from day to day, if we don't show them? From the day my son was diagnosed with Autism, one of my biggest concerns was whether people would take the time to understand him.  So when C hicken Soup for the Soul announced last year that they were publishing a book of personal stories about kids with Autism and Asperger's, I knew I wanted to be part of it. CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL: Raising Kids on the Spectrum hits bookstore shelves today, marking the sixth annual World Autism Awareness Day and the beginning of Autism Awareness Month.  My story, "The Art of Hope," can be found o...

Last week, I prepared my third blog post for Autism Awareness Month.  I wrote it, edited it, let it marinate and edited it again.  But I never posted it. I wrote about my frustrations with the way the media handles autism.  My position was that journalists – mostly fed by corporate and not-for-profit press releases – are not properly focused when reporting on the spectrum community.  In part, I wrote: That’s where the negative perspective is born:  a perfect marriage between two industries mostly concerned with their own survival.  While those writing press releases and newspaper articles try to justify their own existence, the only people putting the child first are those living on the spectrum every day… You can’t avoid the message the media are selling, which has included the following suggestions: Vaccines cause autism No it’s the environment Kids aren’t being diagnosed early enough Early diagnosis isn’t enough Autism is a growing epid...

Words are powerful.  They hurt or heal.  They tear down or build up. As part of Autism Awareness Month, I want to focus on ten words that are not about what you say, but about what you can do to make awareness personal and meaningful in the life of a child. If you know a child or teenager with Autism, you CAN do more than simply be aware.  You can put into practice these ten words: 1.                    Wait.   It may take longer than you like for someone with autism to answer a question, tie a shoe lace, complete a chore.  By waiting patiently, you tell that child that they can trust you:  that you will not rush them, make impatient noises or expect them to do what they cannot. 2.                    Listen.   If someone with Autism has something to say, listen....

“Wash your hands for dinner!” Drew comes toward the sink and then takes a step back. “Mom.  I can’t.” I look at the faucet, covered in soap suds. “Hang on,” I say, liberally dousing it with water until the bubbles are completely gone.  “There you go.” He steps up to the sink and washes his hands. Bubbles.  He can’t even stand the word.  The sight of them makes his stomach twist.  He forces himself to tolerate hand soap, but prefers hand sanitizers that don’t create suds.  I shudder to think about how he washes his hair – or doesn’t.  There was a time when I would have tried to understand – tried to rationalize it for him.  They’re just bubbles.  He likes clean things – what’s cleaner than a soap bubble? I don’t do that anymore.  I’ve learned that sometimes it’s best to jump on the spectrum with him. How can I say that?   Isn’t drawing him toward a typical life view the best thing for a kid who’s so “high” on the spectrum tha...

   I stop and start. I type words and delete them all. Words usually matter, but not this week. A child has died and there are no words that will make it untrue.    Tears fall. Days pass and I feel unworthy to shed them. I didn’t really know her. That wasn’t my privilege. Pain is real, God reminds me, even when it has nothing to do with me.    So even though I have no right to mourn, I do not fight my sorrow. I hope it is a result of prayer – that God is easing rightful grief by placing some of it on me.    But platitudes are meaningless. Flowers can’t be spared for language; they are needed for her grave.   She is a light returned to God, but her parents are still here, feeling everything and nothing all at once.  Numbness gives way, sleep is impossible.  When it finally shrouds, it bursts with nightmares – none worse than the reality morning brings. Nourishment seems pointless; when finally taken, it’s swallowed with guil...

by Jennifer Froelich           The sun was too low on the horizon by the time Corey Porter jumped out of his pickup and hustled through the gravel toward base camp.  DPS officers and the Red Cross were already onsite, setting up first aid and communication hubs next to the ranger station at Slide Rock State Park.  Tracking should be easier at this time of day, Corey reminded himself, but it was small comfort.  Ten-year-old Gloria Chee had already been missing for three hours and temperatures in Oak Creek Canyon would drop quickly after dusk. ... “Gloria!” Corey’s voice echoed from the walls of Oak Creek Canyon two hours later.  His team stilled behind him, expectant.  Only the creek interrupted; bubbling, splashing.  Even the trees were silent, as if they too were listening for the cries of a lost little girl.  Corey was beyond hoarse, but he waited ten seconds then called her name again.  When...