All day, he’s struggled to get his groove.
For most of us, vacation is a welcome respite.
But, not all.
Special needs don’t go on vacation and I mean that in more ways than one.
Home is safe and predictable.
Vacation is a vast unknown.
Beach, pool, iPad, phone, trucks and trains, none lasting longer than a bandaid in water.
But then, on our sweaty walk home, these rocks beckoned him.
We stayed for quite a long while, which with Amos, means thirty or so minutes.
He climbed, from one to another, slowly and methodically, up and down and up, again.
I found a shady bench and sat, thinking.
The kind of thinking that comes when you’re away from home, removed from laundry piles and to do lists.
And so, I watched and noticed and acknowledged.
He needs more, this son of mine.
And I needed the break in routine to see that he needs more and to acknowledge it’s time to move forward.
The outbursts and the squalls seem to come so often.
Perhaps we can temper the behavior with strategies and folks who know more than me.
Bless these old climbing rocks for showing me the way.
And, as for Amos, I know you’re in there, we just have to find you.
Sometimes I grow weary, but I won’t give up on the grandest puzzle I have ever known.
You, my precious son.