61Mar 2, 2012
Sometimes, I’m thankful for autism. On days like Tuesday, when Riley jumps in the van and puts her fingers on my shoulder, waiting. Â When I look back at her and she smiles, words tumbling out, words like these, words that cut me sharp but leave her pristine: “Mom, today someone said a bad word at […]
62Dec 9, 2011
As your Christmas cards decorate our mail with friendship, I give thanks. Â I walk down the road, swinging my arms, telling God how He’s always provided someone. I read your notes, happy to see the curves of your handwriting, as personal to you as your fingerprints. Â I smile when you apologize, thinking your penmanship a […]
63Oct 14, 2011
Last week, two friends knelt in the dirt beside me, the grass pressing lines into their ankles, and washed my feet. That’s exactly what they did, even if it looked more like twisting shovels into the earth and planting a little hope.  We buried the seeds of allium, hyacinth, tulips, and daffodils, tucking them away for […]
64Mar 18, 2011
This afternoon, when I picked the kids up from school, Zoe ran over to the van. Weeping. I opened the door and pulled her into my lap, and the words came tumbling out with her tears. “Mom, Emily said she hated me. And then, when we were leaving school, and I was telling Roxanna what […]