Not trying to complain, just making excuses for why I didn't have time to download my audio book this week. Nothing to listen to during my hour-long commute meant I actually had time to reflect on the day and let my mind wander. (Which makes for good blog content.)
So bear with me here... And prep yourself for what is likely the strangest analogy you've ever heard.
I love home grown green beans. (I said bear with me here.)
So I love home grown green beans, and when I was a kid, we spent our summer mornings bent over the rows in our garden, sifting through the plants and picking the long ones. Then we spent our summer evenings in lawn chairs at the ball fields, watching my brothers play ball while we snapped beans into Pence's IGA sacks so Mom could can them the next day.
Most of the time, I didn't mind it. It was just what we did. We were the family who snapped green beans at the ball fields. But sometimes, when I saw all of my friends running around having fun and I was just snapping beans, I got jealous. It wasn't fair.
Even though I had those fleeting thoughts of despise for all things green bean, I sure loved having those home grown green beans all winter long. And those other kids running around at the ball games had no clue how delicious homegrown green beans are, because their mommas were just buying the 79 cent cans of rubbery beans at Pence's IGA. They didn't get to enjoy year-round home grown green beans, and since all they ever tasted were the rubbery canned ones, they never knew what they were missing.
So here's where the hours of commuting with a wandering mind turned into a really bad analogy.
I think having a kid with special needs is kind of like harvesting green beans.
I told you it was bad.
I love Waylon. Man, I love him. And as his mom, I spend every moment hovered over him, worried about him, planning for him, telling people about him, trying to get services for him, worrying about how to pay for the services for him. The aches in my back and sunburn on my shoulders while harvesting green beans as a kid have nothing on the amount of stress I have endured while trying to "harvest" Waylon.
The time I spent snapping beans in lawn chairs at the ball field have nothing on the amount of time I've spent trying to contain Waylon at the ball field, at church, at family things, at restaurants. And we don't even take him to the grocery store, to places with lots of people, or anywhere after dark (finding him would be next to impossible).
And most of the time, I don't mind it. We are the family who have a kid with special needs. It's just what we do. But when I see my friends at the ball field, or potlucks, or fairs, or even just running errands with their cute little well-behaved kids, I get jealous. It isn't fair.
Here's where the analogy gets ripe.
Even though I sometimes have those fleeting thoughts of despise for all things autism, I love Waylon more than you could ever know.
And those other moms running around with their perfect little families have no clue how rewarding parenting can be. Their kids look fine. They play sports and have friends. They don't make funny noises or throw dirt or crap on the floor. And they're a heck of a lot cheaper to raise. They're kind of like the 79 cent cans of green beans at Pence's IGA... fine, if you've never had the homegrown.
But my son, is being harvested. I get to watch as he learns and grows. I get to appreciate each new development and reap the rewards of our hard work. I have gained the ability to see the finest details in life and feel the most subtle hints of his love. Things that most other moms take for granted, I get to enjoy and savor year-round.
He, like green beans turning from a pack of seeds to a jar of deliciousness on the kitchen table in December, is a miracle. He is a very special gift.
If having a child with special needs is "My row to hoe", I am planning on a bountiful harvest.
Thanks for bearing with me.
Happy Harvest!
“Life is what you make it. Always has been, always will be.” - Eleanor Roosevelt
