A FATHER'S VIEW.

A FATHER'S VIEW.

I found the following article on the Autism Society Website. 

 As Father's Day approaches this Sunday, I felt this appropriate to share.

 To all the Incredible Dad's.....

 Remember and make time to cherish your children and 

reflect on these thoughts written by Stuart Duncan.

Have a blessed Father's Day.

" Look into my eyes and hear what I'm not saying, for my

eyes speak louder than my voice ever will" 

 Unknown.

Stuart also goes by AutismFather on Twitter and Facebook and blogs about autism from a father's point of view at http://www.stuartduncan.name.

June 19, 2011
By Stuart

When we have children, we're supposed to shape their futures and instil in them proper values, good morals, ethics...all that good stuff.
But then something happens when you question whether or not you'll ever get that chance. A doctor says three little words to you that shatter your confidence: "Autism Spectrum Disorder."
Your child's future, your future, your limits, your responsibilities, your own self.... all come into doubt.  For some reason, from what I can tell, it's especially true for us dads. 

Well, guys, believe it or not, providing you stick through it, it is a good thing.  After a little while, something funny happens. You find that your child isn't the only one making progress, they're not the only one growing up... you do too.
I've always tried to be a good person, going out of my way to help people and be kind to others. But it wasn't until my son was diagnosed with autism that I was reborn. I became someone new... a better someone. Some things I've learned;

Tolerance:

I think we've all had those days when we see other children behaving badly and thought to ourselves: "I can't believe their parents let them behave that way." But having children of our own who can't express themselves, can't handle the overwhelming stimulation, can't get the things they want, can't be who they want to be... we begin to understand why those children might be upset, why those parents aren't caving to those crocodile tears and, most of all, how hard it is for both of them. The last thing they need are our judgmental glances.

Being Nonjudgmental: 

While walking through the mall recently, my wife and I passed a man who clearly did not have much money, possibly not even a house. He did not talk very clearly and didn't seem to have much control over his motor skills. But what he did have was a smile. He pointed to something, mumbled to us and was clearly happy. We smiled and said hello, and glanced to where he pointed.. but not able to understand, we said ok and continued on our way. We both looked at each after, wishing we could do something... but we were not in any position to do that. We both agreed that we certainly could not judge him... not too long ago, we would have both talked about how strange that guy was. Now, all we can think is that this man was someone's son. This man was once a child who has had a whole lifetime of experiences that have led him to this point. We should not judge him. We cannot judge him. He wasn't strange. He is who he is.

Acceptance:

 It's difficult not to judge those who are different, especially if they seem bizarre compared to what we're used to. But when you put that judgmental tendency aside, you begin to realize just how accepting you can be. I always thought that I was accepting... I had no idea just how hard it is to put away that instinct to label someone as "weird" until I had a child that others would label "weird" themselves. I also see that quality in my son. Everyone is intriguing to him. Everyone is different. And though they may seem bizarre to him, he accepts them. He only wishes that they'd do the same for him.

Compassion: 

When you have a child who never seems to care if you're stressed or hurt, when you have family that can never seem to understand just how hard it can be sometimes, when you have other people muttering to each other about your child having a meltdown... all you want is for someone to tell you it's ok. To tell you they understand. I used to save my compassion for those who were kind, those that I knew well enough... I was wrong. Thanks to my son, I realize now that compassion should never have to be earned.

Patience: 

I used to think I was a pretty patient person. I am very much "go with the flow" and don't usually care too much if someone's late or not taking my needs into consideration. As my son got older and missed more milestones, as he tested me more and more, as he had meltdown after meltdown... I realized that I wasn't quite as patient as I used to be. Then came comments from others, lack of support... my patience was tested further. But despite all that, as I learned how and why my son is who he is, I learned that I can wait a little longer; I can put things behind me a little easier. My patience levels are far beyond what they ever were before. I've learned I can wait out a 45-minute meltdown and still be there to calmly console my son when he's ready to hear me.

Unconditional love: 

My son may one day reveal himself to be an autistic savant... or he may stay where he is or regress to who knows what level. It doesn't matter when it comes to how much I love him. He may never be the person that I pictured him being that very first day I held him in the hospital room... that vision of the future is long gone. But that's ok. His successes, his failures, his future... none of it affects how much I love him. He's still my son. He's still my perfect little boy. He's still my flesh and blood. And nothing, no one and no disorder can ever change that.

A purpose: 

Until I had children, I was pretty much just living my life day by day, pay check to pay check. Having children tends to focus one's purpose quite a bit. But when your child has special needs, your inner instincts take over a bit and you begin to see the world as a big, flawed, dangerous and clumsy place. You start to see that most other people don't have the same acceptance levels for those who are different; they don't have as much patience, tolerance or compassion. Most people fear or ridicule anyone who is different from them and make no effort to understand those differences. What you realize is that your child isn't the only one who needs help. That's when you begin to realize that you're more than just a parent, you're an advocate.

The Father Becomes the Son
I am not the man I once was. I'm a father now. More so, I'm a father of a child with autism. As his father, I'd like to think that I've still been able to teach him good values, morals and ethics. I'd like to think that I've given him the tools he'll need to grow into a strong, valuable and proud adult. The truth is, though, he's done far more for me than I ever could for him.
I've learned to take nothing for granted and appreciate everything in my life. I've learned how to slow down and recognize all of the sights, sounds, tastes, smells and textures around us every day. I've learned how to see the world through the eyes of a child all over again.
I've put away my preconceived notions, expectations and selfish desires. I see people for who they are rather than what I think they may be. I see the future for the unknown and limitless potential that it is. I see myself as the man I should have been a long time ago. Though he is still young, though he still has so much more life to live... I want to grow up to be just like him.

WHEN YOU CAN"T CHANGE THE CIRCUMSTANCES... CHANGE YOURSELF!

Came across this Parable tonight.... 

I wanted to share the power of its simplicity.

CARROTS, EGGS, AND COFFEE 

There is an old parable about a boy who was so discouraged with failing in school he told his grandfather he wanted to quit. His grandfather filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In the first, he placed carrots, in the second he placed eggs and the last he placed ground coffee beans. He let them sit and boil, without saying a word. In about twenty minutes he turned off the burners. He fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then he ladled the coffee out into a cup. Turning to the boy, he asked, "Tell me, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the boy replied. Then he asked the boy to feel the carrots, which he did and noted that they were soft and mushy. His grandfather then asked him to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, the boy observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked the boy to sip the coffee. He smiled as he tasted the coffee with its rich aroma. The boy asked, "I don't understand. What does this mean, if anything?"
His grandfather laughed and explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity--boiling water--but each had reacted differently. "Which are you?" the grandfather asked. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, becomes soft and loses strength? Are you the egg that appears not to change but whose heart is hardened? Or are you the coffee bean that changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, your very attitude will change your environment for the better, making it sweet and palatable."
 His lesson was that in life when you can't change the circumstances, change yourself.

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/creative-thinkering/201108/when-you-cant-change-your-circumstances-change-yourself