Voices of Angels

Softest, gentlest
indescribable music
Hushed tones
in crescendo
Subtle falsettos
Is there such a thing?
No words
But melodies
Heavenly
Unlike any other
They say angels
don't speak
They sing
Hymns
from their very
soul
That is why
God listens to them...


"One, ku, kee, kor.... One, ku, kee, kor...", Garret repeats. His very own version of One, Two, Three, Four. Then he smiles with all his heart, and flaps his hands in delight. Actually his favorite number is 8. And he articulates it with such care and precision that even the most eloquent public speakers would be put to shame. Well, I certainly think so. And not just because I am his mother. (wink, wink) Children with autism are spread across extreme borders of the spectrum-- from the non-verbal to the very high functioning individuals. Yet many share one thing in common--splinter skills, an isolated set of skills that are so highly developed, usually in music, drawing and calculation. Because their system shuts out stimuli that overloads their senses, they engage in activities that calm and soothe them, they fixate on objects and events that only interest them, blocking out any unnecessary noise that may disturb their focus.   Whether it is spinning objects, lining up cars, or seeing light reflected in just the perfect angle, or enunciating words and syllables like their life depended on it,  they are the real definition of the words, order and perfection.

"Eight!", Garret articulates. His mouth set in perfect position. Perfect. Rich-sounding. I am so proud of him.

How many of us who are so able to speak normally take the time to perfect what we want to say? How many times have we gotten so careless in enunciating what we truly think and feel assuming and to an extent arrogantly expecting that other people would understand us right away? And yet we complain when we are misunderstood.  How many times do we stop ourselves from saying three precious words to our loved ones thinking they already know how much they are important to us and how much they are loved? This may be too far a stretch from what my son has shown in saying a number as mundane and ordinary as "eight". But I have long realized, nothing is a stretch when it comes to appreciating what we have. This is one of the many many lessons my son has taught me. There is nothing mundane or ordinary in life. Everything is a gift. Every reason, an opportunity. Every circumstance, a blessing.

I have often wondered what Garret's voice would sound like if he spoke like other kids. Gentle? Commanding? Musical? crisp and clear? I have often longed for the time when he would say the three precious words to me and his papa.  But I would like to think that he chooses his words and perhaps timing carefully. Even if it is just the number eight, it would not even matter. The perfection and care he gives as he articulates it is heavenly.

Now as I write this, I hear him singing " da-da-da-da-da-da" in perfect pitch-- to the tune  of A, B, C, D, E, F, G--the alphabet song. His voice is not commanding or arrogant, not even meek. It was a matter-of-factly kind of tone--crisp and clear.  I rush inside his room and find him grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling. I kiss him feverishly. I am delighted as he is joyous. He is singing from the heart, he is singing his hymn. And yes, God listens to him. He is certainly God's most perfect gift to me, to our family.