WANTED: YOU

Some days are so much harder than others. Today is a day when I just feel like burying my face in my hands and bawling. I have. And I will probably do it some more. The shadows loom, the winds chill, darker and cooler than what bears on the rest of the world. And no matter how you try to distract yourself, reminders pop up like whack-a-moles. Diapers. Hitting himself in the head. Yelling. Kicking. Screaming. Sobbing. Oh, the list goes on and on. And on.

It’s my belief that we have to literally make a choice to stop that list before it melts us. To rise, to breathe, to act. Stephanie keeps waking up and keeps breathing even when the heart-wrenching pain is unbearable. I don’t know how she does it. Grace, I guess. It’s gotta be grace. The grace that lifts your head after suffering and whispers, “Keep going.” The grace that dries your face after you’ve cried a million liters. The grace that gets you through the daily meltdowns. It’s what raises their arms to hug their autistic child when he’s smeared a mess on the walls. And the only way to arrive at that point of grace is to barrel through. There is no bypass or alternative route. Does it mean bawling 100 times a day? If you need to. Or maybe it means singing a song or punching a bag or keeping Dominic’s picture on your wall or screaming your prayers to Jesus. The good, bad, ugly and holy. Whatever gets you through today, able to face tomorrow, and one day closer to Heaven.

To pull myself through the day, I research. For what? Anything. Words. Assistance. Programs. Funding. Stories. Hope. Hope that someday, my Little Lovey can say exactly what he wants to say when he wants to say it. Hope that someday, he will go 24 hours without a single meltdown, that he can understand why he can’t run in the road, that he doesn’t have to feel pain from the buzzing of a lightbulb or the texture of a food. Hope that until we find a cure, we can find acceptance. Acceptance at the grocery stores. Acceptance at Chile’s and DeFazio’s. Acceptance at school. Acceptance from society. So my research today led me to an overwhelming fact: tuition at Heartspring, the school that would appropriately meet the needs of Dominic, is $9,000 per month. Unfortunately, that’s not a typo. All the zeros are valid and the non-existent decimal is correct. Go ahead and say it with me…”WOW.” Sure, there is assistance—but, it’s based on low-income status, so the majority of middle-class families are declined.

The “specialists” say that autism inhibits an individual’s ability to look at others’ perspectives, or appreciate others’ feelings. But sometimes I wonder—exactly who has a problem looking at others’ perspectives, and who can’t appreciate others’ feelings? Dominic can. And that little boy has taught me far more than I learned writing a thesis in graduate school. Every time I see a scowl, he teaches me grace. Every time I read something pertaining to sensory issues & repetitive questioning, affirming that he has a developmental disorder, he teaches me compassion. Every day when he embraces a world that often mocks, scoffs, and scorns him, he teaches me unconditional love.

Dominic is getting older. He’s growing. He’s changing. He is recognizing things, and to be quite honest, I believe he knows he is different. And, it’s frustrating. Frustrating that he can’t say what he means. Frustrating that he can’t use the restroom. FRUSTRATING THAT I WANT TO HELP HIM SO BADLY THAT IT HURTS. I NEED RESOURCES. I NEED MONEY. I NEED SUPPORT AND ADVICE AND ENCOURAGEMENT TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO GET DOMINIC ALEXANDER VICTORY THE HELP HE NEEDS, THE EDUCATION HE DESERVES, AND THE STRENGTH TO NOT GIVE UP.

I don’t know who’s out there with the ability to research. I don’t know who has an artful mindset that could come up with a meaningful t-shirt design…or a mantra…or logo. I’m sure someone could carve out a website…write by-laws…work a booth…organize a Valley Center Idol contest…or go shopping at Anne’s Attic on a specific evening. I know we could totally run with this and look back on the $9,000 monthly-tuition-slap-in-the-face and celebrate for barreling through…and helping others barrel through, too.

But here’s my problem:

I can’t do this alone. I desperately need you to get on this wagon with me and be in to win it, too. I want to make it right for these children with autism…for the moms and dads…for the brothers and sisters. I want people to be aware and pay attention. Yes, I want to uncover the cause of autism; yes, I want to raise funds for research and education and respite care and medical expenses and therapy dogs; yes…Yes…YES!!! But, in the process, I want dignity and acceptance for those living it, NOW.

Are you in? Will you help? Will you pray? Will you fundraise? Will you consider emailing me, leaving a comment, calling me and saying, “I’ll handle the website.”? “I’m researching.” “Sarah, I’ve got a friend of a friend of a friend who could get us really good deals on t-shirts…” Or, “Sarah, I don’t have the opportunity to get on your wagon right now, but I’d like to give you some ‘gas’ money.”

I hope you will be a faithful family member, friend, and giver of your time, talent & treasure. This is a call for action. The nice words are loved and appreciated. But in the meantime, Stephanie and Dominic are still barreling through each day, and I’m done watching it all happen. It’s time to step up to the plate and join our hearts, hands and minds together. If we come together, share together, and work together, we can succeed together!

So we’re not giving up. How could we?! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever. 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Waiting to hear from you,
Sarah