2nd May 2006

What’s so special about ‘special needs’?by John Fischer

I often like to include stories that come from our readers as inspiration. Sometimes I retell them in my own words, but this one I’m passing on pretty much as it came to me. Thanks to Kim for sharing some valuable lessons with us.

I learned something new about myself this week from a new friend named Thomas who is 12 years old, incredibly handsome, friendly, and autistic. He sat behind me in a restaurant, close enough to touch. He was enamored with my 5-year-old who was not feeling well and not giving him any attention. I felt compelled to do so myself. Throughout the evening, Thomas and I became buddies – talking about everything from basketball to Nike shoes.

The most fascinating part of this new acquaintance was Thomas’ mother – an elegant, well-kept, very dignified, and composed woman. Her name is Debbie and in my eyes she is amazing. She is a single mom, a partner in a business, and manages to raise her son with "special needs." When she and her husband found out about Thomas’ autism at the age of 2, her husband got scared and left them. He has never been back.

Earlier in the evening, I was frustrated with my children for being difficult. They didn't want to get dressed to go the restaurant, they weren't happy about the jackets I chose, the baby was feeling bad, they didn't like each other, and were bickering. I was extremely exhausted and feeling terribly sorry for myself, because my husband was working late and I had no help with the children. I was driving them and my mother-in-law to the restaurant thinking, "How am I ever going to keep up with this? If I could just get enough rest to regain my composure, blah, blah, blah ..."

During dinner, the waves of guilt came over me as I began to think about how long and difficult Debbie's days must be, and yet she looked so much like she belonged exactly where she was in her life at that moment. I don't know how it will change my outlook on things long term, but it was definitely an eye opener for me today.

Debbie was truly a motivation. And then, irony of ironies, she came over to me as they got up to leave and hugged me with tears in her eyes – thanking me for being good to her son. Apparently their typical experience in public is to have people shy away from them out of fear of what to say. She has no idea that I owe her and Thomas the thanks. I will always be grateful that he reached out to my son and me that night.