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Last night we were at a dinner party with some friends from church--three families with kids, one without. I'm sure the child-free couple was overwhelmed. They are quiet and very sweet. The wife lost her mother to cancer a few months ago and I got a chance to speak with her about it. She is still grieving, but spoke so eloquently about taking care of her mother, how their faith helped them and what she's learned from the experience of losing a parent. She and her husband seemed very knowledgable about autism and have progressive attitudes about disability.

As the party was reaching its end, Liam came into the adult dining area. He approached this woman I had been talking to, looked right into her eyes, greeted her and softly stroked her shoulder. He held her hand and asked questions from his usual repetoire. She looked back at him and gave him her full attention without patronizing him. I can't explain exactly what was happening, but I sensed an exchange of empathy between two people, one of whom has a disability which profoundly impairs his communication and social interaction. Medical literature says empathy isn't possible for him, yet there it was--unless I imagined it. I don't think I did. Other adults (all young, cute women) have told me they've had similar interactions with Liam.


If my son didn't have autism:

I would have so much free time.

I wouldn't feel so damaged and guilty.

Life would be easier.



If my son didn't have autism, I wouldn't know what it feels like to witness a small miracle on an ordinary Monday night.