The large fortune we are spending on Logan's therapy is a great mercy from God, training us to spend our time and money on things we should have spent it on anyway (lots of joint attention, home projects, crafts, and activities that foster togetherness, keener awareness of our example and the impetus to correct our own behavior toward each other and the kids), rather than on vanities, entertainment, and building bigger barns. In other words, we are paying a vast sum for something incalculably greater, which we could have gotten for free.

Life is so short; it's a huge blessing to be reminded with this daily cross of autism that only what we invest in the shape of our character, the seasoning of our speech, and the souls of our kids will endure; everything else will wither away with age.

Just when I think we've autism-proofed his bedroom sufficiently, Logan finds something else we need to remove or repair: in the past few weeks he has pulled the packing tape off his light switch (so he can turn his light on in the middle of the night), pulled the makeshift drape off his bookshelf to raid it and tear out pages of his favorite Bible story book, pulled all 1000 powder-blue and flower-scented diaper sacks into a great heap all over the floor, disassembled his closet shelf, pulled off his closet door, pulled out and broken the drawer under his crib/bed, and stuffed things down the floor vent (I haven't figured out a way to keep the vent cover attached to the carpet). I walked in his room and caught him in the act of trying to shove his white noise machine down the A/C shaft, and so I reached my arm down in there to see what else might be lurking and pulled out a nice Buster-brown type of dress shoe that has been missing on Sunday mornings.

Autism and Life Choices

I will say something about autism just a few paragraphs down, but first a few thoughts about the nature of life choices.

At the recent C. S. Lewis & Inklings conference up at Taylor University in Upland, Indiana, Alan Jacobs of Wheaton U. spoke on the current trend in fiction dealing with multiverses and infinite choice within parallel worlds.  Jorge Luis Borges gets credited for starting this phenomenon with his 1941 short story "The Garden of Forking Paths," and you see it now in all kinds of popular movies and books.  It appeals to this generation because it makes each choice in life seem less momentous and consequential.  The idea is that somewhere out there, another version of the protagonist (or me, if I am quite fond of this mode of thinking) could just as easily have chosen the other door, or the other job, girl, reaction, etc.  There is not quite as much at stake if this is only 1 of all the possible incarnations of me.  (I took lots of notes on his talk, but right now I've misplaced them.  One good quote from a philosopher was something like "It is possible to choose nothing; what is not possible is not to choose.")

One thing Jacobs said that struck me is that when you're young, you think of all the things you'd like to do or become, and the younger you are, the more of them you think you might possibly do, if not all of them (why not be a singer in a rock band AND a missionary AND a professor AND a family man AND a writer AND on and on, given enough time).  But the older you get, you begin to realize that each choice you make in life begins to preclude other possibilities, as you devote yourself to narrower and narrower concerns, interests, and obligations.  It reminds me of a G.K. Chesterton quote used by our pastor to the effect of:  "In order to do certain things, you may not do other things."

I recently watched "The Horse Boy" film, and I was shocked when I looked it up afterward to find that it was a true story, and that the actual father, autistic son, and mother were the ones in the film and not actors.  I had thought it was just a story based on current hoopla about autism, but these people actually filmed a documentary about their trek to Mongolia to seek a cure for their son's autism symptoms.  In his case, some of the severe tantrums and bowel troubles went away after meeting a shaman of the reindeer people.  

I don't believe necessarily in any inherent miraculous properties of medicine men or mongolian ponies or reindeer, as much as I believe in the power of families banding together and purposefully dropping everything to pursue "togetherness" and putting the relationships first, dropping our private agendas and ambitions, and truly seeking to connect with a lost child, one who is locked within himself.  I'm not sure it matters exactly what you do together, as long as you choose to go all out with it, get radical, and change your orientation to all of life.  I think it helps if you share a passion like horses with your son, or anything that he seems also to bond with.  They say for some autistic kids, dogs have a similar effect, but it could be anything.

Logan's autism has been a tremendous blessing to our family.  I agree with other fathers like the one in that movie who say they have become a far better father because of autism than they ever would have been otherwise.  One expert interviewed in "The Horse Boy" said that parents of autistic children, before they come to the point of acceptance of this condition, must usually go through a long grieving process that can take years.  The grief comes from gradual realizations that one after another dream has been lost or denied because of the autism.  But she also said that if the autistic child knows that the parents accept their condition and love them as an integral part of the family, it can help them greatly through life.

Autism has made me more conscious every day of how short my life will be.  Autism fosters constant vigilance in a parent.  It strips life down to basic essentials, and you have to be on top of your child's situation, proofing your home and being aware of where you child is and what he's doing most of the time, to prevent his injuring himself or the functionality of your home furnishings and appliances.  While he's at school and bedtime are about the only times you can let your guard down and relax.  While this can cause one to forego many other pastimes or professional opportunities, in many ways it brings a deeper appreciation for things of ultimate value.  It is also good training for efficiency and focus.  It forces me each day to look at how I'm using my time and to make careful choices:  "To do certain things, I may not do other things."  So I prioritize each day to take care of the urgent things first, then work on important long-range things, and trim out the trivial.

Those were some of my meditations today.  I've given up on the rock star thing.  But once in a while, I'll burst into song.