Tales of Day Camp 3

Ah, the middle.  Halfway through.  Two more days of the 45 minute drive, entertaining Richie and Maelynn on campus for three hours, then lunch, then home. 

Scratch that. 

Two more chances for Ryan to bond with other kids, interact with other kids, and for others to interact with him.  Six more hours to work on waiting... that we can't have the elevator ride all the time, right now.  Six more hours to allow him to work on transitioning, not screaming, not gutterally squealing.   

The counselors are always perfectly cool when I pick up Ryan, but today Ryan wasn't.  It was the elevator again.  They'd learned not to let him start.  It has to be purely necessity.  Very matter-of-factly, just business, go past it, stay calm.  But for some reason, this afternoon Ryan was perseverating on doors a lot.  He had fun in the water (it was sprinkler day) but as soon as he was out, not so much.  He somewhat participated in the craft, although he enjoyed painting the paper towel more than the two liter bottle birdhouse he made.  But while I tried to talk to his beloved Miss Staci, he ran the length of the front of the building (and it's a big building), and yanked at the doors, made a myriad of interesting- although disturbing- sounds.  She seemed almost stumped for the first time.  Almost. But not quite. 

After making a plan with Miss Staci, we worked on getting down the stairs.  He screamed, grunted, squealed, and threw himself down.  If I held his hand, he yanked it out.  If I held his arm, he became limp enough to fall but continued to try to yank away.  Ryan did not want to leave, but had to.  All the other campers were gone, and even the leader of the program was trying to leave.

It's so hard to focus when any of the kids are upset, but this is one of those things that leaves me lifeless at the end of the day.  It is simply impossible to explain the amount of outbursts, grunts, screams, fusses and downright fits we endure.  Just when we think it's getting better, BAM.  It's like that feeling when you're awake, and you hear your alarm clock in the middle of the day... multiplied by a billion.  You're just wanting him to calm down so we can get some lunch and go home.  No idea what the problem is.  Ask him to tell you what's wrong?  He'll say "what's wrong".  Just like Victor the engine tells Kevin the crane on one of the many, many Thomas videos... "slowly, slowly; gently, gently" we try to help him be ok. 

I want to say that it won't be this way forever. I want desperately to put a time limit on this, to say "we will have trouble to here" and pinpoint it like a map.  But I can't.  I shouldn't bother.  I should have goals, desires, and dreams, don't get me wrong, but they cannot take the place of the hope I profess in Christ.  We will continue to press on toward the calling... but the calling is not just in Ryan and autism.  It's in each other, in raising all our kids to be Christlike, loving, caring people. 

It's certainly not in treating God like a vending machine.  Put in a request, some currency (works, to some), and take out what we want.  Or think we need.

Gratitude (Again, you can click and listen on Grooveshark)

- Nichole Nordeman

Send some rain, would You send some rain?
'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again
And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade
Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?
Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down
Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid

But maybe not, not today
Maybe You'll provide in other ways
And if that's the case . . .

(Chorus)
We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to thirst for You
How to bless the very sun that warms our face
If You never send us rain

Daily bread, give us daily bread
Bless our bodies, keep our children fed
Fill our cups, then fill them up again tonight
Wrap us up and warm us through
Tucked away beneath our sturdy roofs
Let us slumber safe from danger's view this time
Or maybe not, not today
Maybe You'll provide in other ways
And if that's the case . . .

(Chorus)
We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
A lesson learned to hunger after You
That a starry sky offers a better view if no roof is overhead
And if we never taste that bread

Oh, the differences that often are between
What we want and what we really need...

So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peace
Move our hearts to hear a single beat
Between alibis and enemies tonight
Or maybe not, not today
Peace might be another world away
And if that's the case . . .

(Chorus)
We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peace

But Jesus, would You please . . .

Friends, I come to you tonight tired, weak, and worn.  I come confessing that I am not enough.  I am not strong enough, patient enough, smart enough, not anything enough to be what Ryan needs.  But I love him, and I will do what is in my power... I will do my best.  And when that is no longer enough, because it never is, and when I get tired, weary, and worn... I will give thanks.  I will give thanks and reach up, just like little Mae... just like Bree did... and He'll pick me up and give me what I need.  Not what I think I need, or what the experts say we need, or what it looks good to have... what we need.  I will pray that Ryan's fits will stop, I will ask my dear Daddy to take Ryan's fears away, his anxieties to vanish.  I will keep fervently praying that to please give us a huge breakthrough.  One fun day at camp.  One day to not drag a screaming Ryan somewhere.  But maybe not; not today.  Maybe He'll provide in other ways.

And if that's the case...
We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peace

But Jesus, would You please . . .