September 12, 2023 6:22am. My personal thoughts after a few sessions hearing Luke’s voice for the first time in 19 years...
All I am thinking is that there are no words; which just makes me burst into tears right now.
Because there are words. Yet there have always been words. And now, I miraculously finally get to hear them.
Oh Luke, you are so incredible and so beautiful.
Luke was “open” tonight, like really “open”. And it was just wow. I find it so ironic that I am struggling to find the words to explain what happened here tonight.
The original Luke’s Journey blog (Ages 3.5–14) can attest to our journey of hope and “leaving no stone unturned” in our quest to help and support Luke. Luke—who was diagnosed with mild to moderate autism with a global developmental delay—in his own words tonight, said “THEY WERE SO WRONG ABOUT ME”. He was inside, trapped. Oh my heart. In one of our first conversations EVER he asked ME how I felt about knowing he was smart and “in there”, and had words. I knew. Somehow I knew. I just didn’t know how to get him out; and he didn’t know how to get out. I tried everything. EVERYTHING. Something finally worked. It worked. It actually worked. I have my son’s voice, after 19 years of very few words. Thank you, God. It’s been such a lonely, quiet road for so long, I don’t know how I feel. Vindicated, I guess. Restored. Forgiven. Justified. And exhausted; like the marathon is finally over and I can rest in my son’s words and thoughts and dreams and oh so kind and wise sentences of grace and beauty.
He is articulate. He wants to be an author… and a revolutionary one, of course! He’s max chill. He’s light-hearted. He’s got secrets (he’s nineteen, after all). He feels abandoned by God; but is seeking reconnection through the help of his brother. We did a lesson on bumblebees and he interrupts the academic teaching to ask me if I remember how old he was when he was stung by a bee. He remembered being stung by a bee (twice): once when he was little (3 years old), when he stepped on one, and it “HURT SO BAD”; and the second time when he was 10 at the school Track & Field day… he was stung on his wrist, but he didn’t tell anyone and it did not hurt as badly. He hears better than a whale (wait, what?). A whale?!? Google it, you know you want to. He is a hippie at heart (okay, this one I knew… the hair was a bit of a give-away). What does he want as a present? How many times have I asked and wanted to know? 38 at least (a birthday and a Christmas each year). He wants a DUVET. A tie dye duvet. And why a duvet? Because he’s hot. At night. His current blanket is too heavy and hot.
There is so much more to digest, absorb, realize, but I have finally reached the goal of where we have focused our hope for so long. We have “arrived” and all the years of prayers; therapies; swimming uphill against an undertow; the many lonely and dark crevices where autism forces those close to it; the battle-weary fought-for finances to try “controversial” alternative and innovative ideas … we have finally reached what I sincerely believe to be a new heaven on earth. And I am on my knees, in gratitude to God; for His faithful hand on our journey.
Let the new day begin.