I believe in miracles.
But the reality and daily grind of life can shatter that belief until it feels like miracles only happen to others. Then I witness a moment; a tiny fraction of time, and that belief is restored once again. Those moments often happen when we least expect it and in the normal everyday occurrences, so we need to be watching and waiting and believing. Sadly too often I am overwhelmed, exhausted and so busy I almost miss those moments of beauty right in front of my eyes.
This last week though I have noticed two miracles with my son. Nothing huge like starting to speak, or new physical skills like kicking a ball or jumping (stuff other seven year olds do without even thinking!) or even independence skills like showering himself.
No to most parents of seven year olds my miracles would seem trivial indeed; unmentionable, so run of the mill they would be taken for granted.
But one thing that happens when you parent a child with additional needs is that you learn NEVER to take anything for granted!
I had taken the children to a Christmas party. The fact we even got inside the door could be classed by some as a miracle. The fact my son was no longer wearing his red school jumper this year (he wore nothing but his school jumper for two years everyday) could easily be noted as a miracle. In many ways that was something I never thought I would ever see. The fact he climbed onto the bouncy castle and enjoyed the vibrations while everyone else jumped was amazing. These are all massive achievements for my son. He never joined in dancing or games and wandered around very much still in his own little world. But that was ok.
He ate when the food was offered and he never had a meltdown or attacked anyone and he was smiling and happy. I could end here as these are all massive achievements for us.
The Santa came.
He has no idea who Santa is. He has no concept of Christmas. So I just held him on my knee while the other children got excited and waited eagerly for Santa to give them a gift. He moaned and squirmed a little with being held but seemed to watch in his own little way. As an adult I knew at some point his name would be called. But how would he know that?
“Isaac” said Father Christmas with his usual smile and excitement.
I was just about to take my sons hand and drag him up. But before I could move he stood, he looked right at that man in red and he walked right up to him, took his gift and brought it right back for me to open!
He responded to his name! He took a present from Santa! He watched others and figured out what was expected!! I am so overcome with pride about those things.
Not that long ago he had no idea what his name was. He would not go anywhere he had not already been to before. He never watched other children. He would not have had any idea what a present was, especially if it was wrapped.
But this weekend I had my Christmas miracle.
And later this week I have another one too. He is only going to be Joseph in his school nativity play! He is part of it! He has a role! And to whatever degree he understands he will be acting out that role. It is what seven year olds do. But something I never dreamed I would see.
In case you did not know, my son has classic autism. He is still wearing nappies and unable to speak. He has Neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition that can cause learning difficulties and delay. He can not read or write or count. He can not dress himself. He is very much in his own world. I worry what the future holds for him, and the many hundreds of others like him in this world.
But miracles happen all the time. And this Christmas they have happened to me.
Keep looking and one may just happen to you too.