Our family moved last summer. It was quite the ordeal. What made it almost unmanageable was the effect all of this sudden change had on Isaac’s autistic brain—not just the change itself, which is hard enough on anyone… It was this life altering transition without having the ability to ask questions, express opinions, share concerns, and receive clear information, reassurance, and understanding in return. We did our best to help him understand what was happening, even making a book with pictures and language to explain each stage in the process of our move. We fully expected a difficult road, but could not really foresee the intricacies and complexities of this endeavor as it related to helping Isaac navigate the experience. Despite the inevitable upheaval of a move for our family, we felt compelled to make this shift and make it in a timely manner.
As I look back on this move, I can see the wisdom in the timing as well as the perfectly tailored mercies of a loving God woven throughout this arduous process. The blessings of this move continue to unfold and be made more evident.
In our new home, we have a “garden room” where I now have a few potted plants gifted to me by my sweet mother. The vision is to, some day, fill the space with potted plants and trees of all shapes, sizes, colors and textures. But for now, I have a handful of plants that have sat over the winter in their plastic starter containers…not even making it to their pots yet. Today was the day! My youngest boy, Kai, volunteered to pot them with me. We carried each plant through the sliding glass doors at the front of our home, over the big flat rock pathway and into our front yard. We found a perfect patch of shade under one of the towering thornless honey locust trees and set out each plant and each pot that we were going to transfer them into. Kai chose the potting order, and we chatted about each plant as we put them in their new home. Something about this simple experience gave me pause. My heart filled with gratitude for my sweet son, for this giant thornless honey locust tree, for the potential of a garden room, for the endless nature that surrounded me. It was glorious. And I continued to reflect all day on this patch of earth that God had set us on a year ago:
When we made an offer on this property, we did not realize the idealistic nature of the set up of this home for our specific situation. We didn’t realize this partly because we didn’t know what was in store—what kind of hold Isaac’s autism would have on the daily functioning of our family in the year following our move. Our home has a portion of the basement that we can effectively set apart for Isaac. Double doors can be closed to secure Isaac’s space and cut off noise from the rest of the family so as not to disturb him while he is sleeping. Now this is especially important due to the wild shift in Isaac’s sleep patterns which continue to prove a challenge to regulate. Isaac started staying up well into the early morning hours, drifting off to sleep anywhere between 3-8am and then sleeping well into the afternoon. Because of the way our home is arranged, he can sleep when he can sleep without the ruckus of our other rambunctious boys waking him. He has a swing right outside his room where he whirls with wild delight—a very regulating activity for him. He has a bathroom right off of his room where he can shower and pop his icy cold water balloons (also a very enjoyable activity for him). I thought about how much more difficult his odd hours would be if his room was next to our other children. I thought about the additional stress that would cause for all of us. I am so grateful for this sweet blessing—a layout that works for us. We had no idea how much we would need this. Now we do.
Part of the allure of this property was an additional building which had been previously used as a workshop. It is spacious and sturdy with windows allowing the beauty of natural lighting. The potential for this space is endless. But Brian saw it before I did—of course, it would be a dance studio. I didn’t even know this was what I needed. But I did. I need dance back in my life. I need to move and teach the delight, expression, and technique of movement to others. This dream was born in me as the sweet and unexpected opportunity presented itself. As I continued to reflect on the hidden blessings of this additional structure, a vision of a sensory gym in my dance studio was born. I could create a space for Isaac that would meet his varying sensory needs. We could hang a swing for him to spin on. We could get a trampoline, a crash pad, a rocking chair, and yoga balls. This could be a safe, happy spot for Isaac where he could spend contented time and even potentially receive therapeutic services. What a gift.
Sometimes life feels impossible to me. The severe needs all night and all day wear on my soul. The violent nature of autistic dysregulation and rage. The unpredictable moods that affect daily functionality to the point that the simple comings and goings of family life are disabled. The social isolation. The hard. But then I remember the Truth. And the Truth is that we have everything we need to weather this particular season. We have a multitude of tender nuanced blessings crafted by a loving God for such a time as this. These blessings both big and small are all around us. People—so many good people that support us from near and far in a multitude of ways. The hummingbirds that bring such delight to my heart. The deer that prance around. A trail to run on. Trees that tower majestically and reach out with protecting arms over my home. And my home. It works for us with such beautiful precision. We are so blessed. So very blessed. I was reminded under that honey locust tree that God is in the layered goodness of our lives even in the most difficult seasons. We just need to be still long enough to really see. His fingerprints are everywhere.
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