The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18 (NIV)
and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18 (NIV)
I am
not Adam Lanza’s mother
In 1992, when my oldest was turning 8 years old, I accepted
that he would never go to college and realize the dreams of success that I held
for him, like every mother dreams for her first-born son. The riots had occurred in Los Angeles earlier
that year and the smell of smoke still lingered. The anger and confusion in the city had
almost resulted in the city burning down. It was a depressing time and the
riots were a mirror of what was going on in our individual lives, I believe.
I asked God to help me make sense of the pain and depression
that I felt from living in a world with people whose values were misplaced and
misguided. Material wealth and comfort
were what I and all my friends sought to achieve. We wanted to live in the perfect house, drive
the perfect SUV, have our sons and daughters attend the perfect schools. We wanted the American dream surrounded with a
white Pickett fence and perfect children behind the closed doors. Today those
same types of folks make speeches on Facebook and count how many likes they
get.
But my course would change.
One evening during the Christmas season in 1992 I had a “come to Jesus”
moment. It was after the old dull ache of pain on the
inside from having misguided values and spending too much time with people who
valued the wrong thing manifested on the outside. I thought I was having a stroke, but the
doctors said nothing was wrong, although I felt pain throughout my body. After that appointment, God became my doctor,
the bible my prescription. I vowed to
always reach up and out of my pain and depression and grasp Jesus’ hand. I vowed to SHOUT -- Shine, Have Hope,
Overcome, Use God’s Power and Take Charge – for my son, myself, and all the
women and children, unknown to me at the time, that I listed above. I would serve, sometimes at shelters, then
for 10 years while teaching, and finally in my own non-profit.
With that vow of
dedication still resonating in my heart, I re-launched Sisters Supporting Sisters
this year with a theater piece, Voices of
the Un-Heard. See the flyer below. I wept, uncontrollably, with others at the
end of its offering, as I caught of glimpse of my oldest beaming from the
audience, and I beckoned him to join me on the stage. In 1993, I understood that my child with
special needs would need me to be a constant source of joy, light, and love;
the umbilical cord between he and I never severed, but, in fact, extended to
the world. I would accept that he was
perfect just the way he was. I would
share his perfection with others every chance I got. He would beam like he did on November 4th,
2012 as Mommy offered Voices of the
Un-Heard to others. Afterwards, I would turn my attention to collecting clothing
and toys for women and children in area shelters. Those items were delivered this week.
Over the years, I ordered his dad to get rid of all the guns
in the house. He, too, at one time was a
gun enthusiast. I’ve always hated
guns. Whenever I looked at an instrument
that could take the life of another I got chills up my spine. For the last 28 years, I journeyed through
the maze of mothering a son with Autism:
Medication changes, doctor’s appointments, episodes, meetings with
school officials, psychologist, specialist and more. I would always seek mainstream inclusive
opportunities for my son. I endured the
ignorant stares when my son said or did something inappropriate. I either overlooked folks or put them in
their place when they made stupid comments or jokes about people with
disabilities. I cringed when people used
the word Retarded or shared ignorant “yellow bus” jokes. I moved to an area in the San Fernando Valley
where people walk to local eateries.
Here my son can safely and independently walk to get his favorite treats
of Starbucks, Cold Stones, and Jamba Juice. I always invite friends to SHOUT
with me, for me, my son, women, at-risk kids, and young adults with
disabilities. I let joy, love, and light surround us on our
special journey of life!
We had one life and death situation. He walked off and got lost for three days. God, prayers from Psalm 91, and a friend who offered
to help me search for him brought him home safely. This same friend was the first to donate when
I re-launched Sisters Supporting Sisters.
I could never bear the burden of raising a son with a disability alone. If
you read any of my books, there’s a disabled child. In my blog, you will find entries about my
journey of being a mother with a special needs child. In Voices
of the Un-Heard, there is a character struggling with raising an Autistic
child. When we return in spring, a
developmentally delayed actress is joining the cast. Sisters Supporting Sisters’ mission is to
also inspire and support young adults with disabilities. I do
it all because God saved me and my son when my spirit was crushed in 1992. The
Lord is close to the broken-hearted. We must get rid of the guns in our
society and return to being a society of love and peace. Happy Holidays!
