Church and Other Things

I watched the smiling faces of a half-dozen pre-kindergartners line the front row of chairs at their new church class on Sunday morning. I had walked my 5-year-old down to introduce him to this new venture as well, but his smiling face wasn't among them. While the music played and the kids clapped and danced, I sat with Rowen in the back of the auditorium crouched behind a curtain. He peeked through an opening only to scrunch up his face and scream how much he hated being there. Then he covered his ears and started making loud train horn sounds. That was my cue to hit the road.

Rowen may be standing next to a fun-loving group of kids, but in my book he's a million miles away. He went with me to the grocery store last night and as I passed through the check-out line, I noticed this in action again. Four kids were lined up on a bench, laughing and talking as you'd expect of any child. The only difference in this particular picture was a blond boy yelling at them, "stop looking at me" while making the meanest face he could. But what he didn't know is that to them, he was faceless. They hadn't even noticed him, but in Rowen's world he is always on the defense. Everyone is out to get him. It was the same at the park a few weeks earlier. Kids playing, friends laughing, and the playground buzzing. And my Rowen was climbing a tree by himself.

Sometimes I think Rowen doesn't get it. He seems oblivious, quite often. But a few nights ago he shared with me some things that a mother never wants to hear. He said through a tearful plea that he thought he was a bad child. Fighting tears he told me that he wasn't smart and that he was just a bad kid. I did everything I could to talk him out of it, but there was no changing his mind. Now I notice his prayers have included a request for God to not think he's bad.

Prayer. That brings me to a few things about Rowen that are priceless, despite the choke-hold autism tries to put on him. He and I had a date to the "meatball shop" (Fazoli's) the other day and he prayed for our meal so loud I think the cooks in the back could hear! He told me his meatballs were good, but that I was the best "cooker" in the world and mine were better. He also told me how the bell at the ice cream shop by the railroad track makes him think of me. And he also said I was the best mommy in the world.

He surprises me at times. In that same grocery trip, the lady behind the deli counter smiled at Rowen and asked how he was. I held my breath, ready to put on my famous eye roll, nervous smile, and pat on Rowen's head at his probable lashing out at her. But instead I turned to him and saw a smile form. "Good," he said quietly, face lit up. A small thing, but a mountain climbed in my book. Yes, everything is good.