We Know Aaron

After I made up my little "We believe in Aaron" vision statement  I felt like I needed to do one for home as well. One that could be bolder and not just profess things we believe  but proclaim things we know. It was a good exercise to go through the thoughts and feelings I've had, as well as the impressions and inspiration I have received regarding Aaron and his purposeful role in our family. 

This is the result.

Aaron's new school

Why do I forget?

My strong boy.

My brave boy.

My amazing son.

Aaron has been in grade one for two whole months.

The day before school started I was beyond anxious. 
As I laid out school outfits, sure that just the right ensemble would make all the difference, Aaron's teacher called me up and said, "Why don’t you and Aaron come down to the classroom today for a bit before all the hoolpla ."(pretty sure she didn’t use the word hoopla but that what my memory translated I into)

I watched as Aaron strolled into his classroom, like he’d been going there for years. Watched as he cased out the room, scanning so methodically looking for this year's obsessions. He picked the Guess who box--not the game, just the box.

I watched as this wonderful new teacher sat close to him and  gave him the little rubs and squeezes she’d seen me give him. As we chatted casually about our summers.

And I loved her for it.

The twinkle in her kind eyes made me feel like one of the Banks kids being granted my swish list for teachers and if you know how much I love Mary Poppins, that;s about the highest compliment I could give an educator. 

Why do I forget how great people are?

Why do I forget that Aaron’s greatest strength is not spatial reasoning or knowing his letters--
 it’s making people love him.

Not by being the first to raise his hand or drawing lovely pictures, but by just being him.

I’ll always be grateful that Aaron lets people touch him .

I laugh as I type this, because those of you who know Aaron know that is a gross understatement.

He could make the cuddliest and snuggliest person in the world feel claustrophobic.

I always feel so sad when I read about kids on the spectrum that can’t tolerate touch. Because even though Aaron is some ways is simply stimming off the texture of my hair, or smelling  people , or “giving hugs" to get the pressure his little sensory seeking body is craving, we neurotypical social beings can interpret that as affection. And it works. 

And oh how special you feel when Aaron picks you to love.

Those first few weeks of school were full. Full of setting up visual schedules, and programming his iPad, making token boards, setting up learning teams and preparing for IPPS.


And, 

McKye started Preschool.

I will forever be grateful that Aaron is our first child. Along with everything else he teaches us, he also ensures that we never take  normalcy for granted…he makes the typical seem so special. 
It is one of his many gifts to us.

McKye first day, he could hardly contain his delight as he strode with his hand me down converse shoes and his backpack. He had been begging to go back to his preschool room every since we’d gone for the orientation, when he fell in love with the grocery store play house.

"1-2-3-4 a kiss at the door"

and he was off.

I walked home holding Levi’s chubby little hand, happy to realize that even poor neglected third children get their turn—eventually—and I was genuinely excited to spend some one on one time with my little blonde boy.

I straightened the house and tried not to look at the clock too often. Played with Levi, until in a few hours it was time to walk back.

And there he was, his grin, unbelievable, bigger than when I dropped him off, his eyes bright with new learning and experience as his world expanded all before he’d even had lunch.

And all I could think was. Wow. So that’s what sending a kid to school is like? There was no meetings, no long assessments to ensure funding, no speech pathologists to consults or endless paperwork and even more endless meetings to assess and reassess, to make goals and change goals and follow up on goals. 

He just goes to school. 
And then he comes home. 
Easy.

There are things that are “easier” about Aaron, but school is not one of them. And I was so overwhelmed and grateful for the ease of sending my McKye to school. I know this may not always be the case But that autumn morning I was grateful for easy. I was ready for something to be easy.

As we walked home, I asked, at first without even thinking, just caught up in my mother greeting her preschooler role “How was school?”

And he told me.

And I cried.

Because, I realized,  for three years I’ve “asked” Aaron, "How was your day?" almost as a little ironic joke,  as I pull out his communication book  to see what his aids could tell me about his day. But I knew it wasn’t what Aaron would tell me.  And so I was cut off from knowing anything beyond what I was physically present to observe …which made school hard.

And now her was my McKye, happily chatting about playing hockey in the gym and telling me about Teacher Shannon and the grocery store,  and I soaked it in like a desert being doused. I gave him happy little responses, while tears rolled down my face so grateful for this simple access, so overcome by the profound gift conversation with my 3 year old was.  And I silently thanked Aaron for making me see it, not letting me miss what a privilege it was to witness a child take in the world one little piece at a time, like rocks tucked away into squishy jean pockets.

It was a good day.

But some of the best days, come at a price. They cost? bad days that give you the contrast necessary to truly appreciate the great days.

The first school assembly, was one of those days I paid. 

I’d sat through the assembly with him, in awe--how on earth did they get that many kids to be that quiet!?!? I prefer loud rambunctious playgrounds where Aaron's squeals blend right in. Aaron had had a bit of a giggling fit at the conclusion of the school song that turned more that a few heads, but I was just so proud of him for sitting through the whole thing that I was in a good mind frame and optimistically thought "by the end of the year, the whole school will recognize Aaron’s giggles”

As we walked out of the assembly I was feeling good, I’d asked one of Aaron’s classmates to cary his fidget basket with him, and I had just caught the principles eye and was about to say something clever about Aaron sure liking the school song, when Aaron apparently reached his limit and full on smacked the kid in front of. Hard.

In front of the principle! The little elementary girl inside of me gasped.

He quickly comforted the crying boy, and then turned to me the parent trying not to cry. He said lots of good “principally” things to reassure me, but still I went home imagining kids gogin home with strange tales of the new boy who’s awful mean and hit for no reason.

By 4 am the next morning , I couldn't take it and I sat down at the computer to write out a letter “from Aaron”

We ended up not giving it out until later when I came in to do a presentation for Aaron’s class.

I’d done presentations about Autism for kids before, some that had go better than others and I needed this one to be good.

Which of course meant killer visuals and yummy treats!

We started with Mrs Wilkinsin reading the book “Ian’s walk” and assign the kids if they thought the boy in the story reminded them of anyone.

When they all knowingly said, “Aaron!” with that implied “of course” only kids can muster, I knew we’d waited just long enough.

My instinct was to go in the first week, guns blazing…but the reality was the kids had no context yet, to put any “autism” knowledge into.

They needed those first few weeks to just observe. To get settled themselves. 
To notice Aaron on their own accord.

Now they were ready, to have some answers. Cuz a lot of answers they’d already figured out. Smart kids.

Aaron’s friend from church Malachi, who is probably one of thee smartest kids I’ve ever met, prepared a little speech about being friends with Aaron.  It was, in true Malachi fashion--perfect.

But my favourite part was when I wanted to tell them about how Aaron says I love you to me. He’d been in the back playing with fidgets and examining his Guess Who box some more while I gave the presentation  but at that part he walked right up to me as if I’d given him his cue.

I said I love you and he, as always gave me a kiss. He does every time! I joked with the kids and said it again, with Aaron kissing me

I said something about how, “Hmmm, maybe kisses isn’t the best way to show our grade one friends we like them…what else could we do?”

And then told the kids how much Aaron likes giving high fives.

The kids all eagerly put up their hands .

And Aaron was the rock star.

In his awesome nonchalant way he “granted” a few of his adoring fans high fives as he made his way through the crowd back to his carpet and his Guess Who box.

Such a rock star.

 It went well and I went home feeling like for the most part we’d managed to get him settled into his new school quite well.  And for the first time in a while, I kinda let myself relax and forget.

Then the next morning I found this email in my in box.
Hello Chelsea,

My son,---, is in Aaron's grade 1 class. --- was telling me all about Aaron this evening when I got home from work and he is so excited to learn hand signals to communicate with him. I have just finished reading your letter and I just couldn't help myself from emailing you. I think this is such a wonderfully proactive way to introduce Aaron to the kids and their families, and I really admire your approach. I fully expect this will set a great tone for Aaron's transition to Probe. 

All the best for a great school year!

And then this picture came home with Aaron.

And again I thought.  Why do I forget how awesome people an be?

Why do I fear and fret? When in the end ther’s so much goodness to be found, So much kindness, and compassion.

Everywhere,

Aaron’s old school as great as it was, didn’t not have a cart balcnche on love.

When I’m tempted to think of all the mean and horrible things that could happen to my precious peculiar boy,

I need to stop and remember..

There is  so much love out there to find.  So much.

And Aaron is so good and getting it out of people.

His talent. His purpose. His gift.

I feel lucky that things have worked out so well at the school, but then they’re a lucky school.

They get to have Aaron.

                  m  

Update: By April, we did a whole Autism Awareness assembly, and the support was overwhelming. Kids form all the different grades know Aaron and make and effort to say "Hi" to him.
Thinking back to that first assembly, I thought, wow, we came a long was in one short year.

Aaron has coem a long way.

My strong boy.

My brave boy.

My amazing son.

Tired but Trying

So no matter how much I try to put on something cute, and do my make up (even shower!), at least two people every week at church tell me I look tired.

I know they are trying to be sympathetic and maybe are just assuming I'm tired as I rush about like a lunitic trying to keep primary from crumbling before my eyes, carrying at least 2 bags, a couple of binders, and usually a kid (but where are my keys???) And forgetting something at the church, EVERY week, with out fail! Every week. Yup, they assume right. I'm tired.

I just thought I was better at hiding it?  Apparently I'm not.

I try and be more organized, more color coded, more typed out scheduled, and it always seems to be all for naught, and there I am again flying by the seat of my pants, trying to make it work.

But I've decided this calling is not so much about me learning to be more organized (let's face it, their are just a lot of other peopel more talented in that department and it ain't me!) as it is about me humbling myself and learning to rely on the Lord. Not my well planned sharing time or my good intentioned emailed plans. Planning and preparing are important, don't get me wrong. But so are praying and relying--which I need to do more of both. I also need to be humble enough to stop expecting that if I'll just work hard enough, things will go perfectly. Because what they heck is "perfect" in primary???

Perfection comes from the unexpected, and unimaginable things the kids say and do and the unimaginable spirit you feel in the midst of it all. I need to realize even if I am incapable of "staying on top" of "things", it's okay. It's just fine. It might even be better.

I think I'm just tired of feeling dumb. Making mistakes and blunders, I'm certain other primary presidents NEVER make. (Even the ones about to have their sixth baby that make it look so easy...cough cough Amy!)

Like getting up early and doing primary stuff for 3 hours before 9am church, only to get there and realize I missed ward council. And having my sweet visiting teaching companion catch my eye (As I try desperately to "hold it together").

"You look tired." she said it so empathetically, so kindly that I dropped down beside her and starting crying, practically in her lap. She wrote me a nice note that week. It made me cry too.

Crying releases stress hormones, so that's good right.

I cry a lot at church. I worry that's all the primary will remember. 
"Sister Bretzke? Hmmm. Oh ya! She's the one that cried all the time!"

We sang "Because I have Been Given Much" today, and one of the lines started off the tears that would flow freely through out church today. "I shall divide my gifts from thee, with every brother that I see, who has the need of help from me"

I thought about how divided I often feel, pulled by responsibilities, feeling the pull to minister more personally to the children. Pulled by my own children, not only at home, but at church-- Aaron asking me to pick him up while I try to conduct, McKye following suit and clinging to my legs while I try and teach, all the rest of the primary kids eyes looking up at me, all asking for and needing a primary that will prepare them for the intense world they live in. Divided focus. Divided time. 
But the song made me feel like I was giving myself, giving what I'd been given. 
Love. Testimony. Encouragement. Divvying it up as needed. 

And I'm so grateful for those who give too me. The tired, crying primary president.

The wonderful, seasoned primary workers, who caught me after church to say, "It'll all work out. It never feels like it will, but believe me I've been through a LOT of primary presentations, and they ALWAYS work out."

And I know it will. 
Because those blessed,
spirit inducing, 
soul calming, 
bravery giving 
primary songs tell me it will!

They remind me that I just have to try. And I really am trying.

I'm trying to be like Jesus... I'm learning to love as He did.
I'm trying to be a good leader in Primary and I'm learning how as I go. 

And He's right there with me.  Reminding. Whispering. Smiling.
 Just like we do to with the kids.

I am a child of God after all. Still learning. Trying. Crying. 

And just like our kids, sometimes, I'm just tired. 

Our invites. Aren't they cute??? Ya, I didn't make them.

Dear Anonymous

I signed in this morning, missing blogging. 
I told myself maybe I could just go back and read some old post, maybe my boys last years birthday posts, seeing as I felt like I probably wouldn't get to them this year.

Trying to push away that sad feeling, of wanting to do so many things, but feeling forced (by these pesky 24 hour days, and my own limited energy) to choose.

My friends are probably sick of hearing me talk about my non-blog-time whoas.
They offer sound advice about "time how other challenges come to fill their place.

Then I read your comment on my last post, my anonymous friend.

And realized that the truth is I want to keep blogging.

For me... and for you, anonymous.

Just like so many essential things--scriptures, prayers, date night--it's not easy to make the time for these things. Blogging may not be essential but it is a good thing I want to choose to do, and therefore just like all the others things, I have to safe guard and protect on my crowded daily schedule, I can do this. 

Maybe not as often and most certainly at the sacrifice of some other non-essential (like sleep and cleaning, usually). 

So thank you dear Anonymous, for reminding me I don't have to have hundreds of followers to make a small difference in someone's day. Because I do hope that every once and a while something when I take the time to write that it will bolster up another young, stressed out mom, so she can make it though one more insane before-dinner hour! I hope that I can inspire a mom to pick up her scriptures or turn on a conference talk while she folds yet another load of laundry. 

Because, as I admit in the very title of this blog-- this is the hardest things I've ever done. 

To raise these children and not loose it. To remind myself of the eternal course my everyday choices are  determining, for me and my family. To humble myself and admit I can't do it alone. That I need heaven's help-- in all its many forms--

In the voice of prophets and prophetesses, only a few clicks away.
In angels, I know are round about,  even if they don't intervene when my kids are spilling things...again.
In scriptures that I scatter about my house, so I can flip them open and feel their power, quickly before the next crisis.
In the primary songs softly playing in my kids room, as I lay down with them desperate for them to have a nap...oh please nap today.
In my friends, their words of encouragement in our phone conversations punctuated by our kids squabbles and screams, their perspective and wisdom sometimes shared in words, but more often gleaned as I watch them in action. My friends and their blessed sewing machines, helping me once again with a sewing project I'm incapable of, but need done by tomorow mornings preschool Halloween party:) Thank heavens for my heavenly friends.

Even ones I don't know, like you anonymous.

And if I can be that kind of voice--helping and urging us all to look to Heaven more for answers and strength and the endless patience parenting seems to require--then I want to be that voice.

Thank you Anonymous for reminding me of that. And giving me the courage to admit my own desires and take accountability for my own choices. To feel that I truly can decide to keep doing a good thing, if only because I want to.

My highlights from conference...and a grocery analogy outta nowhere!

School blessings, General Conference, catching up on the Relief Society we missed while we were in Mexico, and Stake conference today. 

I love how my new notebook (which I purchase along with my kids school supplies each year) has been filling up with so much good. So much inspiration. So much truth.

Like stocking up on groceries, filling the pantry with flats of cans and bulk packaging, there ready for thrown together dinners, or neighbours to call "Do you happen to have any..."

My notes feel like that. A bit of storage, to access in times of need over the next six months. Food storage doesn't mean you don't grocery shop regularly--daily scriptures and weekly church are the produce and milk, so to speak. 

Even the most stocked up items won't last forever, come next spring my spiritual shelves will need replenished. 

But for now I feel as though I'm standing before full shelves, with lots of worthy goals and things to repent of and feelings of determination to be better to choose from.

Here's a few Highlights from my conference "shelves":

 The missionary announcement is so exciting! I loved my mission and I love that it'll be just that much easier for girls to serve, plus all my debating about when to start McKye  in school so he won't hafta wait to go on his mission...resolved.  

I loved the feeling the announcement gave me, that the Lord's kingdom is rolling forth, and that it will continue. I had this image of a large vessel  and thought, I just need to "Get onboard!!"  and be awed by the privilege it is to watch and participate in its progression. We only struggle when we think we need to dip into the waters of the world and then we end up getting dragged behind, wondering why the gospel is so hard. The church will go forth, no matter what, we only need to decide if we're going to be a part of it. 

How fast did we know these were gonna be made!

Right before Ann Dibb's talk I'd turned to Ben and said, 

" I love this church!, I just love it!" 

Ben just smiled at me when she said it moments later.

 My next highlight, is my very, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY VERY favorite thing I learned at conference.

It was when Pres. Uchtdorf said he tried to imagine the Saviour rushing about Galilee...oh wait I can get the actual quote:

I think of our Lord and Exemplar, Jesus Christ, and His short life among the people of Galilee and Jerusalem. I have tried to imagine Him bustling between meetings or multitasking to get a list of urgent things accomplished.
I can’t see it.
Instead I see the compassionate and caring Son of God purposefully living each day. When He interacted with those around Him, they felt important and loved. He knew the infinite value of the people He met. He blessed them, ministered to them. He lifted them up, healed them. He gave them the precious gift of His time.

I loved that. As convenant keeping latter-day saints it is easy to get going on the inertia of duty.  Of striving to lengthen our stride, with out running faster than we have strength. It is such a balance. But I loved that what Pres. Uchtdorf could imagine was the Saviour purposefully blessing others.

I was blessed to sit in a stewardship interview recently where my wise Bishop reminded me that it is easy to get caught up in trying to make sure "The machine" is running, that the administrative aspects of our callings are running smoothly, that we sometimes forget why the machine was started up in the first place, we forget that we are really called to minister to God's precious children. Sheer busy-ness does not ensure success, and does not always result in the most effective discipleship

That was what so much of conference came down to for me. Discipleship.

That we just need to follow the Saviour.
We need to listen to Him.
We need to be on His errand.
 And we need to get rid of anything that gets in the way of hearing and heeding Him.

Before I'd got a chance to listen to the Relief Society general meeting, my wonderful friend told me about Elder Eyring talk, how he related the experience of his daughter who made it to the hospital to deliver her baby prematurely just in time, because her visiting teacher felt that she should "just stop by". My friend got emotional as she said, "I want so badly to be that person. To be someone the Lord can trust to respond. Someone He can say,
"Go! Now! " to and I will!"
I thought about all the days she'd called at just the right time or told me just the right thing. She so already is.
She is a disciple because she listens.
Because she is trying.
And she listens and tries because she loves the Lord.

Which leads me to my favorite talk? Elder Holland.
It's WAY better to listen to then to read, by the way. He made you feel like you were right there on the shores, smelling the fish and the salty nets, feeling Peter's confusion as the Lord keeps asking him the same question.

"Peter said for the third time, 

“Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.”¹ 

To which Jesus responded (and here again I acknowledge my nonscriptural elaboration), perhaps saying something like: “Then Peter, why are you here? Why are we back on this same shore, by these same nets, having this same conversation? Wasn’t it obvious then and isn’t it obvious now that if I want fish, I can get fish? What I need, Peter, are disciples—and I need them forever. I need someone to feed my sheep and save my lambs. I need someone to preach   my gospel and defend my faith. I need someone who loves me, truly, truly loves me, and loves what our Father in Heaven has commissioned me to do....

So we have neighbors to bless, children to protect, the poor to lift up, and the truth to defend. We have wrongs to make right, truths to share, and good to do. In short, we have a life of devoted discipleship to give in demonstrating our love of the Lord. We can’t quit and we can’t go back... Your Father in Heaven expects your loyalty and your love at every stage of your life.”

I say "I love thee" all the time in my prayers, but how do I show it?
How many times would the Savoir need to ask me before it really sank in?
I was talking my deeply spiritual sister-in-law and she had applied the New Testament story to her mothering/. In essence she said Our children often ask us, in their own way,
Do you love me more than these? More than the dishes, more than facebook, more than your to do list? I say I love my kids all the time, but when they truly feel it is when I show them by putting them first.

The Saviour wants to know we put Him first. When we do, we gradually become like Him.
As Elder Johnson's said in his talk

 Discipleship is all about doing and becoming. As we obey His commandments and serve our fellowmen, we become better disciples of Jesus Christ. ...Ultimately, it is total submission to His will that helps us become as our Savior is. Again, becoming like Him and being one with Him is the ultimate goal and objective—and essentially the very definition of true discipleship.

That doing and becoming was reiterated in Elder Bednar's talk about the testimony needing to grow into conversion.

Yes, for me, Discipleship was a definite theme.

Then today at Stake Conference Pres Low was talking about dedication (tying in the Calgary Temple dedication this month) and ways we can more fully dedicate lives to the Lord and His work. As he shared all these "little" examples of times he and his family choose to keep the sabbath day holy, or to be generous in their offerings when they were still struggling through school, or as he read from his journal when he was a young bishop with a house full of young boys--I just looked at Sister Low and thought, you don't just magically become a great family, you just aren't somehow amazing people just because...they are amazing because they have consistently chose 
to sacrifice, to obey, to serve. We can all become those stellar people, the great examples we admire, it just takes faithfully living the gospel, just like we know we should. As we choose to sacrifice it's that sacrifice that "makes us"--makes us better and makes us more. As Pres. Low put it (according to my notes):
"[Our choices to sacrifice  set our course, because we knew and were determined that such sacrifice would always brings blessings.]"

All the conferences left me feeling that Discipleship is an exciting path. 
However soul stretching, and perhaps even exhausting it can seem ooo1at times. But it is the only way that will leave us knowing we did all we could, that we gave all of ourself, and that in return we were made more than we could have ever imagined. 
The blessings and promises to those who serve the Master are worth any and every effort.

Pres Low shared this great quote form Sister Hinckley that shows the desires of a true disciples heart.

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. 

I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.
I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.
I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.
I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”

I too want those marks of discipleship. I want the Lord to know that I love Him, not just because I said it, but because I feed His sheep. 

Even if sometimes, it was only peanut butter sandwiches.

We told McKye he could only drum during the songs,
so this is him ricking out with the Mo-Tab.