Newspaper Dance

            Find a partner. When the music plays, we dance to the music. When the music stops, we hold on to each other, our feet tiptoeing on that wad of newspaper. And we don't move or breathe for a moment until the music starts again.  Fold newspaper in half. Music plays again. We dance again. Music stops.  I carry your laughing, giggling body this time. You have so much fun dancing and seeing all your classmates dance that when it's time to stop, you cannot stop and you laugh. My heart, in turn, is filled with overwhelming joy. You are truly enjoying the game. And we are connecting like never before. Black Eyed Peas is blasting through the speakers, you smile all the more. We hold hands and swing and sway. Then the music stops again. This time I tiptoe on one foot while carrying you and both of us laughing our hearts out until we fall over breathless. We are out of the game. It doesn't really matter if we didn't win, we had the time of our lives.

           This was 5 days ago. But the euphoria and elation still remains with me. Garret had so much fun during his classmate's birthday party. I do not know if he understood it was a party, or if he even understands the word party, much less a birthday. But what I do know is that he was truly, truly happy. And at that time I didn't even feel the need to proclaim it to the entire world. In reflection, this dawned on me: Life is and should be like a newspaper dance. As the world spins and goes on its daily grind, we need to have a partner who we can dance with, rejoice in our joys, weep with our sorrows, and live the life Grace has given us. After all, joy and love have more meaning when multiplied, does it not? And when the world , as it seems, ceases to turn, and turns its back on us instead, we find strength in that one person, whether it is our partner, mother, father, son, daughter, cousin or friend. We hold on to them and they hold us firmly, tightly so we can hang in there, on our tiptoes. When our grief overwhelms us, they carry us and step on that tiny wad of newspaper for us.  Until the music plays again. Until our world is right side up again. Until we can finally stand on our own again. Until the music of our lives resumes its beautiful, melodious harmony. The tears finally dry and we see how life is all the more rich and majestic like it has just been redecorated and renovated just for us. And yes, it's not about winning. It's not about the end prize. It's about the process, the whole step-by-step how-to-play the game. It is about the journey. It is about how much joy we have given to other people's lives and how much joy we have, how much we appreciate and how much we celebrate our lives.  But most importantly, it is about the people we have in our lives who get us through all the rough seas, calm waters, uncanny roads and smooth highways. It is about the people we decide to love. It is about the gifts the cosmic heavens has bestowed on us--the gifts which can only be seen when we open our eyes, look at our hands and when we are intensely aware of the hands that hold us, the arms that carry us.

          This is a toast to friendship, to love, to the people to who have held me and firmly planted my feet on the ground when my world spun out of control. But most of all, this is for Garret and Morgan and to my partner, Andro who has made me hear and dance to the beautiful, beautiful music of life.

He will Make a Way

With love and strength for each new day, he will make a way, he will make a way....

I clearly remember in the days before Garret's first appointment with his developmental pediatrician. I was anxious, desperate, weak and lost. It was like a cloud was hovering over us and there was no promise of sunshine anytime soon. Fear of the unknown, they say is the worst kind. We were entering into a whole new world. The world of autism, which at that time was almost like learning a foreign language with no dictionary or interpreter. Desperate. I was desperate for the doctors to tell me that there was nothing wrong with Garret. Desperate for the doctors to tell me Garret is just delayed and will soon grow up to be like any other normal kid. Desperate for things to be as normal as possible. Desperate for our dreams, my dreams for my son to come true. I was weak to the very core of my being. I felt the world has turned its back on me. I felt I was standing on a "walkator" without the handrails, and my knees would buckle anytime and I felt I couldn't gather enough strength to stand. And I felt lost. I did not know where to begin healing my son. I did not know where I could find the ultimate "medicine man" to make the pain go away. A roller coaster of emotions to describe my very human state was an understatement. At that time, I thought, "Could motherhood really be this arduously painful?" The unfriendly cramped space of the doctor's clinic confronted me with no answers. I would slowly find the answers three years later. Today.

A passage once said that when we are most besot with burdens and we look at the sand beneath our feet, and only one set of footprints appear, it is when God is carrying us. Maybe it is just that we are overwhelmed with grief that we do not realize that we are being carried. Carried to a place of a higher purpose,  to a place of peace. Now more than ever, I am awed by the realization how I have come to this place of deeper understanding, a purpose greater than myself and most of all this place of peace.

As unknown and unfamiliar autism was to us back then, it drove Andro and me to learn all about it, to understand it and to an great extent appreciate the very nature of this phenomenon. Yes, I call it a phenomenon. Garret is the most beautiful phenomenon in our lives. His unique and mysterious world is our world. He is our Garret, no matter what. And more importantly, it has driven me to share my anxiety with other mothers at our center who share the same fear of the unknown. I tread on careful steps and I affirm the validity of their fears. And I tell them, "It will be very difficult, but you will be alright."  When they tell me how other people make fun of how their child flips his hands, I tell them, "Why don't you flip your hands as well? Find joy in your child's joy. Mark your territory and show them it is they who are odd and ignorant. Enter your child's world and realize how fun it is to  spin around in circles." Unravel, discover, enter his world.

Desperation? I realize now how the doctors gave me the most unlikely blessing in the most thick of disguises. They were actually telling me, "Your child is one and unlike any other." Of course back then, I couldn't have interpreted it as I do now.  And, yes, honestly speaking, isn't normal boring? Maybe God thought Andro and I were overqualified for "normal". As fiery as our personalities are, maybe we were born to tackle the extraordinary, the not-so-normal, the eccentric, the unique and challenging, to say the least, world of autism. Of course, three years ago, these awakenings were far from entering my mind. Discovering the blessings behind the burdens do take time. For some, a very long time. For others who know how short life is, it takes only one blink of an eye. This is my personal quest, to see the blessing in everything in just a split second. This is now my desperation. I am desperate to see the extraordinary and the potential and not to dwell in the mundane and and the frail.

The loss of strength. To a fault, I needed to control all things within my grasp. I had a fixed idea of what my child should be, how he should act, what he should eat, how he should love, how he should live. How very wrong I was. And this is why I felt weakest. I forgot one infallible thing-- a force greater than my human brain and disposition governs all the workings of the universe. Literally, God knocked me off my pedestal. Humility--weakening of pride. Loss of pride. So the next time I feel like falling on my knees, I will willingly prostrate myself. I will let go, and let God. Garret is God's child. Only now do I fully understand my mother's words many years ago--"Always pray that you will become what God wants you to be." Garret will be what the universe wants him to be.

Finding our way to healing. Angels are all around us. You just need to know where to look. There was no miracle medicine man. There were no pain relievers. But there was and still is love all around us.  And Love is the ultimate healer. Even when Andro and I were at the end of our rope, these people held on and loved us and prayed for us unceasingly. Mama Nanette with her unconditional support, understanding and affection. My own mother-- Mommy Gar, with her millions of prayers and unwavering faith, hope and love that holds me together. Ate Anna, the sister I never had, ever so sensible and full of wisdom and Kuya Troy assuring us how our boys are loved so much. My brother, Kuya Jon and Ate Trina, whose words I will never forget, " God will make a way, when there seems to be now way."  Their quiet and reserved strength, well-thought of reflections has strengthened me numerous times.  And yes, Papa Ching and Papa Suy An. Oh, how I wish you were still here to see your grandsons, Garret and Morgan. Every day we feel you embracing us even as we are rejoicing or breaking down. You are our angels. You are our boys' angels. The love of family and friends is our compass and Love is the ultimate healer.

Three years has passed since that fateful day when the doctor told us that Garret belonged to the spectrum. We've come a long way. There is still so much more to learn. So many transformations to create within ourselves- Andro and I. There is  still more healing to do. More pride to break down, more love to give. And as broad as the autism spectrum can be, so great our resolve, faith, passion and heart must be. For our boys, Garret and Morgan.

God will make a way, when there seems to be no way, he works in ways we cannot see. He will make a way...he will make a way...

Sun, Wind and Sky

Stimming, giggling
Softly laughing
Amidst the backdrop
of dusk, Sun setting
Puppies run, rolling about
Prancing, leaping
My Garret reveling
in such simple pleasure
Such quiet, candid joy
And the Wind,
whispering, chiming in
with Sky
Smiling, I presume
Silence, serenity, peace
This is what he is
Nothing else matters
only Sun, Wind
and quiet, quiet Sky
Does God speak to us?
I often ask
Today, I have my answer
Yes, he speaks.
He speaks to my son
In the Sun, Wind and Sky