Happy Times Are Here Again

Reid is acing his move to the Adolescent Program at his school. Yesterday marked his first full day upstairs with a new Case Manager and several new teachers. This very intentional, gradual transition has been orchestrated over the past 6 months. With his Student of the Week certificate from downstairs still in the backpack, he was ready!

The inaugural call from my new liaison reported some towering high points: Reid is peer-tutoring another student in reading. They were impressed to witness his fast facts on planets and continents. “All the teachers really enjoy him,” she confided. And, on his way out of her class he heralded, “Thank you for the great class, Miss L!”

Wow, do I relish these moments as shreds of evidence that I have done something right. My latest mantra is that “manners matter.” Lo and behold, he is using them right there at school. Small wonder, he got off the bus last week saying, “Thank you Curt” to the driver. That’s my boy.
It’s been said, “when Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Around here the reality is, if Reid ain’t having a good week, ain’t nobody having a good week. The degree and frequency of his symptoms are such that, as much as we try to correct the imbalance, the household can still seem to revolve around his behavior. I know my mood does.
When old behaviors recur, there is the temptation for Jim and I to live on pins and needles communicating anxiously at the end of each day with the precarious question, “how was Reid’s day?” Remember the Admiral Boom on his widow’s walk in Mary Poppins, “Banks, shouldn’t wonder if you weren’t steering into a nasty piece of weather…” Suffice it to say, we make up for the lack of weather to report in San Diego.

 

In the homeschooling days I had this verse stenciled on the wall of our “classroom” to remind me not to base my moods on anything but God’s goodness; not to assess the day on anything except how close I was to the Living Water.

He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

When I ask myself if fear takes over in the times of drought (like last month or the time before), I am surely convicted by the answer? Did I bear any fruit? (cringe) Most often, I shrivel up, hibernate, and wait for the “chancy bit of weather to blow over.” My friends know when I don’t call or answer; you can probably guess when there are no posts. The heat came and I was toast!
Happy times are here again and I am praising God for the evidence of joy and peace and victory in Reid’s day (and the rest of ours.) So it is I also realize again the distinction between being thanking for the gifts rather than the Giver. An authentic Christian, doesn’t forget in the dark what she knew in the light.

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Andrea Moriarty
I consider motherhood a profession. My husband and I adopted boy-girl twins at birth which gave me full-time employment and job security. I homeschooled them for 5 years which elicited admiration, shock and pity from the neighbors mostly because by then my son had an autism diagnosis and some obvious behavior challenges.
Andrea Moriarty

Andrea Moriarty

I consider motherhood a profession. My husband and I adopted boy-girl twins at birth which gave me full-time employment and job security. I homeschooled them for 5 years which elicited admiration, shock and pity from the neighbors mostly because by then my son had an autism diagnosis and some obvious behavior challenges.

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  • August 28, 2011 at 10:42 pm
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