As I talked with my high school classmate, he recalled that the girls in our class weren't very nice to one girl in elementary school. He recounted how the girl was ostracized for being different. I knew exactly who he was talking about, and what had happened. I took a deep breath. "I was one of the mean girls."
Most of us on this special needs journey put on a good face in public, but often behind closed doors we are weary, tired, sometimes frustrated, along with other challenging word choices. But we are most thankful and grateful for the stress, because of all we have learned in the midst of it. We realize that if everything went smoothly, if everything was simple and easy, we wouldn’t have any need for or room for God in our lives. We’d go with the flow, enjoy the smooth ride on the river of life, and seldom need to paddle because the ride would be so effortless.
The new device will help my son be more aware of himself, his actions and words, so he can communicate better, conduct himself in socially acceptable ways with others, and as a believer, become more Christ-like. But I'm not off the hook just because I'm a neurotypical person. More than the frustration my son feels with therapies and resources to make his life better, I felt like this tool was a sanctification device that maybe we should all use.
It seemed to me that the experience of learning how to hitch and tow a trailer was a lot like my journey as a special needs parent, and in reality it was the perfect analogy for our lives. So here are some takeaways from my time in relative isolation driving to Ontario to have our trailer hitch installed. I hope that some of these may ring true for you as well.