This morning was a wee bit of a circus... okay, a little more than usual is all. We took Ryan to school after a bit of a rough start. Sometimes he just won't start eating his breakfast until the very last minute, and it has nothing to do with how much time he had to eat breakfast, what time he got up, etc. Sometimes I think he's just being a little rebellious in his own Ryan-way. Anyway, we finally got him off to school with a little more than usual amount of trying to stim on the van wheels as I drove away. The lady who helps him literally had to grab him, I slammed on the brakes. Joy.
Once Ryan was off, due to a nasty squeal when the air conditioner in the van runs, I dropped it by the mechanic. Yes, a real mechanic. They exist! Then, due to some combination of my age and the checkup I had last Friday, I had to go have a bit o' lab work done at the clinic, thankfully down the street. So we had some nice walk time, me and the littles. We strolled home after I fed the vampires, talking about this cat and that bird, and Richie was thrilled to get to walk across the railroad tracks. WHEEE! We were having a lovely time when I heard a whump. I turned and sure enough, Richie was face-down on the asphalt. He was pretty upset, so I picked him up and snuggled him, and once he was cool again, put him on my shoulders and we continued home.
At home, I looked down after the mass-chaos that is letting the dogs out and saw a red drip all the way down Richie's shin. Ah, the scrape. Time to be doctor mommy.
Now let me make it perfectly clear that this kid was perfectly calm, running around the house, having a great time laughing while Jedi backed across the kitchen floor to the door. No biggie. But as soon as I mentioned the skinned knee, you'd have thought I threatened his life. Got out the Snoopy bandaids (nothing else will do for a Richie-roo) and the knock-off Neosporin. Got a cool, damp paper towel and began to gently clean his boo-boo. He freaked out at the paper towel. Fa-reaked. Gradually, he realized that it wasn't so bad... hey, maybe it even felt good. Then I got out the antibiotic stuff and he went half-ballistic. "I don't like it!" he cried. Then the bandaid, even with his beloved Snoopy's likeness, was the ultimate insult. He acted like his leg wouldn't work, people! He cried, complained, and generally displayed his unhappiness... and even turned a little pale! Over a bandaid!!!
As I attempted to calm him, still kinda reeling from the shock that a bandaid was such a big deal, it hit me how much he's his mother's son. All my life, certainly not just about autism and behaviors and the uncertainty that accompanies it, change has been my nemesis. Control has been change's best friend, seeing as they conspire to drive me stark-raving bazonkers. And I fall for it every blasted time.
Yes, I generally recover or I would be unable to be positive about anything. But there's that time where I'm somewhere between hollering "FOR REAL?!" and shaking my fist at nothing in particular. Or at what I think the aggressor is. Or the situation. Whatever. Generally, and often only after panning everything through the sieve that is this blog, it all ties back to remembering who's in control. But at every turn, the thing before it what I want back. What I had was comfortable, easy, familiar. Nevermind that I'd outgrown it and it was pinching my feet as I walked through this life. It might not even have been easy, but it was what I knew.
Every time, once I get past the initial for-real ness of the whole thing, and sometimes it takes a long time, I come back around to remembering good ol' Romans 8:28.
"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."
After a while God brings me around to remembering that all this stuff... all the suffering of life, the frustrations, the tears, the anguish, the despair, the uncertainty... will someday be as that little skinned knee.
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
~2 Corinthians 4:16-18 ESV
And on the flipside, it helps to remember that Richie's freaking out and inability to see past the indignity of the cool paper towel, then the medicine, then the bandaid, I do the same thing and act the same way when things crop up in life that I don't think I should have to deal with. I tend to act just the same way, although in a little more grown up terms. I ought to deal with Richie and his brother and sister in the same way I want to be dealt with.
Thanks be to God for his patience and kindness, and for dealing with all my skinned knees.