One Blessed Sunday Morning

[A beautiful, beautiful Sunday! With the boys' three grandmas, (my mom and two aunts) off to church we went! Morgan sat down the whole time! Garret sang with the choir and moved his hands to the beat like a world class orchestra conductor! Standing up when it was time to stand up and sitting down as we listened to the readings and homily...and when the priest admonished, "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord." I replied with all my heart, caught in my throat, not with a "Thanks be to God" but with a " thank you, thank you, thank you God." And how my heart was truly at peace....I wish I could have captured such wonderful moment on camera...but it's okay, the images of my two boys going to church like that will be forever immortalized in my memory.]

I was planning to write a blog about this even before I decided to post it as a status message instead. But the joy in my heart was just too full to be contained to wait for the time and mood and the right words to write a blog about it. So, there I go. Sometimes, you just have to let it out as soon as it comes for fear that that "moment" will go away. :-)

But, here I am, writing about that beautiful Sunday morning mass with my boys and my mom and two aunts.

I mentally prepared myself that most probably, Garret and Morgan won't be able to stay in the church the entire time and we would have to leave and wait for their grandmas at home. Why? The reasons are too many to mention. But I will mention some of it anyway for all intents and purposes of letting it all out.

1. It's been a long time since we've been to this particular church. A.k.a. NEW PLACE

2. In the church are sights, sounds, people who are unfamiliar. A.K.A. NEW STIMULUS, NEW SENSORY INPUT

3. To remain in one's place for the entire hour in an unfamiliar environment, is quite a feat especially for my little one.

4. The sound of the microphone, the organ, etc. may be too loud for my boys. A.K.A. Possible Sensory overload

5. The change in routine. We usually have a different a schedule on Sundays. A.K.A. Challenged flexibility and adaptability.

Theoretically and proven many times, in order for our kids to be well adjusted to a new event, new place, new routines, to avoid any kind of "strong" reactions, we have to give them time to adjust and adapt.Thus we have our Adaptation Program at school. Visits to the barber shop, dental clinic, and others require that we show them photos first before actually going to the place. And when we do go to the actual place, we have to let them feel the place at their own pace. Little by little, our kiddos will eventually sit down on that feared barber's chair or dental chair, or whatever chair they need to sit on in that particular place to visit.

So the time frame I had to orient my boys that we we were going to church took about 10 minutes as I hurriedly searched through the internet of photos of our city's cathedral with different angles if possible. Garret nonchalantly glanced at the photos and proceeded to his playing the keyboard. Morgan? I think he just passed by the photo not really interested in looking at it. As we boarded the car on our way to church, I kept repeating the rules to them, "Garret we will go inside the church. It's a new place but it's okay. When we're inside, no running, no shouting, no kicking. And Garret and Morgan will sit down and be quiet. " In the span of 10 minutes equivalent to the amount of time of the drive from the house to the church, I must have repeated those lines at least four times. I do realize though that the preparation I gave them was hardly ideal and clearly contrary to what they are used to in our Sped program. Thus, I called on a higher power. "Please, God let them understand my words. "

When we finally arrived in church, we walked from the parking lot to the inside,sat on the pews on the back portion of the church and settled in. Morgan was a bit startled by the place so I told his caregiver to carry him. "It's okay Morgan.", I comforted him. He settled in quietly, his eyes inspecting the place all over. Garret scooted over to his seat, already smiling, eyes wide with interest. I admonished one last time, "It's okay Garret. Very good sitting down." I was crossing my fingers, literally and figuratively.

When the entrance hymn resounded in the halls of the cathedral and everybody stood up, my little prince stood too and searched for the source of the sound, smiling, his hands starting to beat to the rhythm. When it was time to listen to the readings, he sat down as well on his own. No instructions from his mama. I finally couldn't hold back my tears of joy when the pre-gospel hymn was sung. "Hallelujiah, hallelujiah...Wikain mo, poon nakikinig ako, sa iyong mga salita...", the choir rang out. Even before the commentator said, "Please rise.", Garret rose to sing with the choir, his hands in full swing, beating to the tune. You read it right. Garret sang. With the choir. With his own words of course. But he sang. Smiling. I am one hopeless "pusong mamon" mama. I am too choked up right now writing this. At that moment, my throat became so painful from holding back my tears which I failed to do so. Hastily, I wiped them away with my hand and looked at my son with so much joy.

Garret and Morgan behaved so well until the very end of the mass. At times, when Garret couldn't see the altar because of the people in front of us blocking his view, he would attempt to run, but then when I reminded him gently, "Garret no running." , he went back to his place in the pew. My boys behaved so well even when we had to sit down again to listen to the 8 announcements said in the vernacular (which made it a tad longer to finish) at the end of the mass. The priest finally gave his final blessing and out we went from the church. No tantrums, no whining, no meltdowns, no sensory overload. My boys went to church. And if I may just say it, they behaved so well, even better than the other neurotypical kids there! All the doubts I listed vanished into thin air. Every once in a while, a breakthrough occurs. And this was one beautiful, wonderful, amazing breakthrough for both my prince and king.

In our autism awareness campaign with our senior high school students two weeks ago, I was asked by one of the students during the open forum, " Ma'am, what has been your greatest achievement in raising your son?". I was made to ponder for a moment at his question. Half shocked at the kind of question asked by a 16-year old, the kind that makes you really think. I could only muster then a "wow..." followed by " well, with the help of the sped teachers and therapists, I think it is that Garret can already understand simple instructions. When I ask him to do things like, Garret, get your water. He can certainly do it." Looking back, I think that as much as I have done my part in making Garret learn to understand things, a huge part of the credit goes to Garret himself. He has tried so hard, learned so well, come so far. So if I am to reflect on what beautifully transpired last Sunday, all I know is that Garret did a great job. Another question followed quickly and asked by another student quite simply, " Ma'am, is it hard? Being a mom of a child with autism?" I remember answering, "Yes it is. With all the challenges, but the rewards are great. Remember, nothing worth having is ever easy. When my boys smile at me as if joy is their last name, when my boys achieve simple milestones, all of it being "hard" goes away." That Sunday morning is certainly one of the many things why I persevere for them. Why I muster all my strength and courage to carry on despite the hard rocks autism throws at us. Two more questions were asked, "Ma'am, do you ever ask God, 'why?'" and "What has been the greatest lesson that you have learned being an autism parent?" To both questions I answered, Yes, every single day, I ask why. Why my boys? Why our family? Why autism? And the answer it seems is this: So that I can learn the greatest love of all, patience, understanding, compassion, and gratitude for every single blessing and burden, and so that I can help other parents and families who are going through the same challenges that we do every single day. And maybe, simply, just so I can be a better person, not just be a better mom, or wife, or coordinator, or counselor. Simply so I can be a better person.

I recount all the details of that Sunday everyday since that day. Because it tells me we are on the right path. That I have done right with my boys. Yes, it is hard being an autism parent. Then again, I look at both my prince and king, and my life is renewed with meaning. They are my meaning. They themselves are the answers to my "why's", They are worth every single hardship and challenge. They have taught me what life is really all about. And that blessed Sunday morning, it seems, has given me the greatest reward of all so far. It has affirmed and validated me that I am doing things right. And what better way to be thankful than to return all the gratitude, glory and praise to the Universe. When I replied with all my heart to the priest's admonition of "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord." Maybe I wasn't the only one thanking God. My boys, in their own way showed their gratitude to all the Universe as well.