Silver Lining

It is Sunday afternoon. Our old Koi pond sans Koi is filled with fresh water. Our boys don their trunks and play in the water. Morgan grabs my hand gesturing me to be with him.  Garret kicks the water happily. Morgan hands me the water bucket. He wants me to fill it with water and then pour it over his head. I do. Many, many times. He does not want me to stop. I do not stop. He laughs loudly in delight. Garret walks in the water splashing it with his legs and arms then slides his body forward, stands up and does it again. The water bucket runs out of water and Morgan asks me to fill it again and pour it over his head.  We go on like this for half an hour or so.

It is the 7th day of the new year and already, it seemed the path has been reiterated for me, as a mother at least. The past few days have been difficult. Garret's transition into adolescence has reared its unpleasant head. Hormones gone awry leave him in a disarray which in turn leave me in as much, if not,  worse disarray. Tears overflow. Questions arise: Why my boys? His eyes somehow ask too or plead with me,  "Why me, Mama?" Or " Help me, Mama please."  We both know how it ends--exhaustion in each other's arms. And then in a few minutes it seems as if there was no storm that passed at all. My son finds his calm and peace envelopes us for the next few hours or days.

I've read the literature on tantrums and meltdowns. Figure out the triggers. Teach them to communicate better. On and on the strategies are laid out. And over the years, the reality of autism never really sinks in until you are facing it yourself. While the immensity is present everyday, the smallest details and happenings come in waves. It is easy to become complacent as much as it is easy to try to control things. The struggle to find balance between going with the flow and setting conditions that eliminate triggers for my son is one that is important needless to say. Because even as autism is a constant, the triggers are ever changing and his reactions to them as well. 

This afternoon as I stand in the pond with my boys, I bask in their laughter, their joy, in the simplicity of their needs and in the complexity of the workings of their minds. I let my heart be quiet. I hear myself breathe. And a thought comes over me: In the dark clouds that hover, there is, as they say,  always a silver lining.  But the gift here is not the silver lining as much as the awareness of that silver lining. The attention that I am able to bring into my consciousness so I may recognize the cracks which let the light in. Because truth be told, the blessing in every adversity, the opportunity in every setback is ever present, like an invisible cloak holding space for us.  The cracks, the blessing, the opportunity, the invisible cloak in the beautiful presence of family, friends and teachers will be of no use if I am not present, if I am not paying attention to each moment, every murmur from my child, every controlled scream, every ragged breath, if I am not bringing my entire being into the smallest details. So even if it hurts, even if my heart breaks every single time, even if I question why, I embrace what I am called to do in this life, to be truly present with and for my boys, to be fully aware and to pay attention to everything that happens around them and to them.

The sun has begun to set. Though clouds hover overhead, there are slats of light bursting through, lining the thick gray tufts. Garret is tired and gets out of the pond. Morgan wants to stay a few minutes more. I tell him, "Five more minutes and playing is done." He complains a little. I soothe him saying we can play again tomorrow. It is only the 7th day of the new year and the path has been reiterated for me-- that of being fully awake, of being truly present, that of love. And only love. I look up and I see it, the beautiful silver lining.

"When you master the art of being fully awake to this moment, you bestow a precious gift on your soul-- the experience of love." - Debbie Ford

Photo taken March 2013.