Friday, February 16, 2018

Swearing, Profanity, and Cursing



Today, as Josh was making himself some toast he dropped the butter knife onto the floor and immediately exclaimed, "Sh*t!"  I looked up with surprise in time to hear him say it again three times with vehemence, "Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!"

After surprise, came amusement.  After amusement, came pride.  My son was using an interjection in a contextually appropriate way!  Way to go, buddy!

As you may know, if you have read any of my other blog posts, Josh is not someone who has a lot going on in the way of expressing language.  In fact, his spontaneous (non-prompted) language falls generally in two categories; echolalia (random echoing of things that he has heard before without appropriate meaning or contextualization) and expressing simple needs or desires ("I want toast").

To have Josh use profanity appropriately with some amount of affect was kind of awesome!  At the same time, I wondered where exactly Josh picked this up.  Was it from us?  From school? From kids on the bus?  I wish I could say that I knew for sure that he must have had this modeled for him outside of our home but, alas, I cannot.  

In our early parenting years, when blow out diapers, interrupted baby naps, and finding people spreading poop on walls were a regular part of our lives, I noticed that Josh was much more likely to echo swear words that came out of my mouth than anything else.  Perhaps this was because they were accompanied with clear and passionate emotion.  

We've been talking a lot about swearing with our (6th grade) girls recently.  We've wondered together why swearing is supposedly bad.  I hate it when people just tell you not to do something without having a reason so I've been thinking about it a bit myself;  Do you refrain from swearing just because it makes you a bad person?  Why do we have the sense that we should not swear?  True, the Bible says that we shouldn't swear but I think that means swearing as in "making oaths" or taking the Lord's name in vain.  Ok, so we don't say, "I swear to God..." or use Jesus' name in irreverent ways. But the specific question that we have sought to answer is "What exactly is wrong with using profanity?  

In her book,  Swearing Is Good For You: The Amazing Science of Bad Language, Emma Byrne writes that "Swearing, it turns out, is an incredibly useful part of our linguistic repertoire. Not only has some form of swearing existed since the earliest humans began to communicate, but it has been shown to reduce physical pain, help stroke victims recover their language, and encourage people to work together as a team."

Even the apostle Paul uses "coarse language" in Philippians 3: 8 when he says, "What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ."  That word which is here translated "garbage" is more accurately "the refuse of animals", "dung" or "poop".

All of these things may be true but my experience tells me that peppering one's language with profanity hurts relationships, especially if one is swearing at someone.  Swearing usually adds a jolt of emotion (usually negative) to a conversation or interaction that is draining, uncomfortable or painful to the listener in most situations.  There is a degrading and disrespecting quality to swearing at someone. In conflict, profanity usually amps things up rather than calming things down which is not conducive to making peace or bringing resolution.  Once you've said, "F--- you" to someone, you really can't ever unsay that.

Now that they are in middle school, my girls are discovering that there is plenty of negativity, anger and meanness in this world.  Using profanity just adds to it.  For Christians, Ephesians 4:29 advises,"Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear."  Also, the practice of self control is important to the life of someone who is wanting to emulate the God of love.  According to James 1:26 "If you think you are being religious, but can't control your tongue, you are fooling yourself, and everything you do is useless".  Another reason all this matters is that the words we use say a lot about what is in our heads. Philippians 4:8 says, "Whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things". As we think about what's right and pure, cuss words are not helpful.

Words are a very powerful part of creating the reality in which we live as human beings.  In general, we ought to try to make our words be edifying, positive, and gracious, for our own sake and for the sake of people who are hearing our words.

But, at this point, if my son wants to express himself by swearing when he drops a knife, I'm still going to smile.  

What are your thoughts about swearing?  Swearing and parenting?  Swearing and being a parent of a child with special needs?  Swearing and the middle school experience?  Swearing in a household with kids?  

Monday, June 5, 2017

Clean, Dirty


Do you ever feel like the day can just turn on a dime?  One minute you are having a lovely, laughter-fulled time and the next minute things can go so very, very wrong so very, very quickly.

Today, Hope and I went to Pet Food Express to give a bath to Luna, a friend's golden retriever who is staying with us for the summer.  Since Hope was a toddler, we've been going into this place to watch dogs being bathed here at our neighborhood pet food store.  I could drink almost a half of a cup of coffee while I allowed Hope and her sister to stand around and watch as dog owners cleansed their canine family members in neat little stalls with all sorts of hoses and nozzles.  And because there were things that looked like shower heads there, Josh often enjoyed being there as well.  It was a fascinating look into the exotic world of dog ownership.  

Today was the first time for both of us that we got to do it for ourselves.  We gladly paid our money and got a shiny, golden token.  A very friendly staff person gave us an introduction to the marvelous dog shower system and then we invited our slightly smelly dog to go into the wash area.  

Luna was not thrilled but, because she is the world's most obedient golden retriever, she obliged.  You have no idea how good it feels to rub a dog's golden hair with almond scented dog shampoo-- really rubbing it in.  It's like a sensory meditation. We took turns giving her the free treats that they had at the store.  We had aprons on but we got wet anyways.  We were laughing.  It was awesome.  

Luna even sat very still as we dried her now lovely smelling fur.  Hope and I felt good about how well we had accomplished this task.  We sauntered out of the store refreshed and energized.  I paused on the sidewalk while Luna politely smelled a few butts of dogs who were headed into the stores.  Hope was considering purchasing a dog cookie for Luna.  I noticed what a beautiful day it was.  The day was sunny but not too hot.  I could smell the coffee from the Peets coffee shop a few stores down.  What a beautiful scent is coffee, that wonderful elixer.  The scent was smooth, nutty and surprisingly strong.  It was like the smell of an old friend.  I couldn't help but to smile.  

I clicked my key to open the side door to my van, which was parked directly in front of the pet food store in the disabled parking spot.  Josh had been unhappy in the store so I had brought him back to the car, rolled the windows down and left him there to occupy himself with a cup of ice.  As the door opened, I realized why the smell of coffee was so strong.  Coffee grounds had been sprinkled all over the back of my van.  It was in the cup holder, on the floor, on the ceiling and on the seat.  It was all over Josh and the bag had been tossed onto the floor below him.  

In that moment, I realized that Josh must have reached up to the front seat and had found the bag of ground coffee that I had purchased at Peets just before we went to bathe Luna.  It must have looked or felt like sand to him because he had poured it all over himself and my van.  My son loves to pour things.  At parks, Josh loves to watch sand pouring out of his hands.  He could do it for hours.  It appeared as if he had also attempted to dry-shampoo his hair with it. 

I took a deep breath and tried to not cry.  Why is it that you can turn a quick corner and then have chaos whack you across the face with no warning?  I guess because life is just like that, a diverse array of scenes and emotions that remind us that we have very little control. 


Ecclesiastes Chapter 3 says, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

Apparently, there are times to be clean and times to be dirty.  And the thing about these different times is that we usually don't get to determine them.  They come upon us and what we can do is to be in it and respond well. Sometimes these different types of times happen within the same hour.  Sometimes we wait for a long time for the season to keep silence to end and for the season to speak to start.  Time and the seasons are in God's hands.  We have very little power to determine these things.  

It was a small victory that I did not yell at anyone as I drove my van with a wet girl, a clean dog and a dirty boy home.  For the second time that afternoon, I stuck Josh in the bathtub and tried to explain to him that we do not pour coffee grounds on ourselves.  He simply said back to me echolalically, "We do not pour coffee grounds on ourselves" and went back to happily pouring water from a cup into the bathtub with utter delight.  

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Echolalia from God?



Echolalia is the "meaningless repetition of another person's spoken words as a symptom of psychiatric or developmental disorder".  Josh has been exhibiting echolalia since he began to learn how to talk.  We've spend a tremendous amount of time trying to teach Josh to respond to questions with an appropriate simple answer rather than by repeating the question.  For many years, if you asked him, "Do you want toast?"  He would always respond by saying, "Do you want toast?" right back at you.  With help from autism therapists, we learned to not give him what he wanted until he replied with a more appropriate response such as "Yes".  

Even after many, many years of training and intentional assistance, when Josh is tired or when he does not know what you are talking about, he will simply reply to a question with a repetition of a question.  A query such as "How was your day?" will likely solicit the response "How was your day?" because Josh does not know how to answer a question like that.

Sometimes when Josh is alone, I will hear him repeating things just because he wants to or maybe he likes the sound of a particular word or phrase.  Last month, he was in his room listening to the radio with his headphones on.  The quiet of our house was suddenly punctuated with Josh loudly and happily exclaiming "This year, give the gift of beauty!". Another day, I heard him say, "The season of shopping and shipping!" with a follow up of lots of clapping.

Recently, Josh was having his breakfast, while I listened to NPR on the radio and cleaned the kitchen.  As usual, Josh echoed some of the phrases that he heard on the newscast.  I don't know if this is just my imagination but it was strange to notice the specific phrases that he chose to echo.  

During a newscast about the besieged city of Aleppo in Syria, Josh repeated phrases like:

"Many wounded people trapped."

and 

"Children are dying."

and 

"What do they have to hope in?"

It felt like some sort of emotional editor or a a personal prayer highlighter of the news for me.  I was in the mode of semi-listening to the news while putting dishes away while planning the rest of day.  But after the third or fourth seemingly meaningful verbal statement by a kid who cannot understand the news, I began to wonder if it was possible for God to speak to me through echolalia.  

I stopped with the dishes, took a seat and waited for a minute.  Wondering if I should pray for Syria, interact with Josh or turn off the radio, I just sat with the moment of pause.  Josh also entered into the moment of pause.  It was a rich, five-second moment of shared attention; plump with wondering and waiting.  I felt like God had my attention for the first time all day.  Then my son stood up and did a little dance of waving his arms and head back and forth.  Then he went back to his room and shut the door like, "My work here is done."

Does God ever get your attention in surprising, unexpected ways?

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

What I've Learned from Josh (A Guest Post from "Auntie Rachel")

I've known Josh almost since the day he was born. Susan and Alex lived upstairs from me and my roommate for Josh's first year of life. In light of his heath issues and my night owl tendencies, I had many middle of the night shifts feeding him very specific amounts since his body didn't give him appropriate signals regarding when to eat or the necessary amount. I don't know how much of it is because he was the son of my very good friends who had wanted him so badly and how much of it is because of that year of helping him to live, but I know that I've always loved Josh.

Yet it's tricky to know how to communicate that to Josh or how to have a meaningful relationship with him.

I no longer live in the same area as his family and, at best, I only get to see him twice a year. Generally, I'm good at figuring out how people work and how to build a relationship with them. With people who are important to me, I figure out how to care for them well, how to be a good friend to them, and how to help them know that they are loved.

I have no idea how to do that with Josh.

Some of that has to do with how little time I spend with Josh. Some of that has to do with how little time I spend around people with special needs, particularly autism. Some of that is just Josh and the ways that it can be difficult for anyone to fully figure out how to relate to him, communicate with him, or know what's going on for him.

Perfectionism is a struggle for me and it comes out in my relationships. I work at them. I'm thoughtful with people. I'll go over interactions to figure out what I would have liked to have done or said differently - sometimes intentionally, sometimes compulsively. The more that I care about the person, the more I work. And usually I can see the pay off for that work in strong relationships and people who feel cared for by me.

But with Josh, I don't even know what work would really look like. Despite all of my relational skills, I don't think that I could ever reach the place of feeling like I'm competent and confident at how to relate to him or how to communicate to him how much I love him.

I found myself thinking about Josh recently and aching a bit about how much I love him and how incapable I feel to really communicate that to him. But then God made me take pause. "Oh, Rachel. What's reality here?"

The last couple of times that I've visited Josh and his family, Josh has clearly wanted to spend time with me. The visit before last, it came up just a couple times. Josh likes to spend quite a bit of time by himself in his room. Most of the time others are not welcome. But he very specifically wanted me to hang out with him. "Sit, please." Josh is often polite while being rather insistent. So, I sat on the end of his bed while he drew or listened to his radio for a while. After a stretch of feeling like 'is this really doing something for him?' I got up and immediately received, "Sit, please." So, I sat.

Several months later on my most recent visit last spring, I was washing dishes on the first night and Josh came to get me and took my arm to pull me toward his room with 'Sit, please.' So we hung out. I played some ukulele for him, but I feel like it just gave me something to do. Josh just liked me being present. During the days that I was there he initiated with me so much that it stood out to the rest of the family as atypical Josh behavior. And it was often enough that there was no way to interpret it as random. We couldn't understand it, but it wasn't random. My last dinner with them, Josh was his usually quiet self while I chatted with his otherwise very talkative family. But when I got up to leave the table, there it was again. "Sit, please."

I don't know why Josh likes hanging out with me. Susan, Alex, and I have speculated about what it is about my personality or demeanor that he finds appealing. But in Josh's way, we're friends. And because I love him, that means a lot to me.

But more than that, my relationship with Josh is now a reminder that I don't have to have it all figured out in my friendships for them to become what I want them to be. 


I do think that it's good to work at relationships. They deserve and require that. But I'm never going to need to be reminded of that. I need to be reminded that my relationships aren't as dependent on my work and abilities as I think that they are. Josh is that reminder to me.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Celebration for Wiping!


**Disclaimer.  This post is happy but clearly about issues of toileting.  If you are sensitive to talking about that kind of thing or if you are having lunch right now, you might want to skip this one.


Somebody say "hallelujah!"  Can I get an "amen"?  Gimme a hand clap!  Let's all whoop out loud for today my son took a poo and wiped himself all without any help from anyone.

I woke up this morning to his big boy body sneaking into our bed on my side.   A few minutes later, my husband went to the bathroom and discovered that Josh had already been there.

"Oh boy!"  Alex declared.  "Looks like someone had a poo."

This is bad news because for the past two years, Josh has been able to get himself to the bathroom to do his business but was not very amenable to wiping.  Therefore, if he went in the middle of the night, he would simply pull his pants up after pooping and go back to bed.  The result was usually not pretty.

"Is there toilet paper in the toilet?"  I asked.

"Yep, right on top."

I got up and took a look for myself, not completely believing that my husband had looked very carefully.

"Hmmm."  I thought.  "But how good of a job could he have done?"

I pulled the happy snuggler out of my bed and checked.  Actually, he had done a very good job.

Then it dawned on me.  Josh had gotten out of bed, taken himself for a nice morning poo, AND HAD WIPED --- all by himself! Today was the day!!

And there was no poo in his hair or on his clothes or on the walls.  There was no pee on the floor.  All of the toilet paper had made it into the toilet.  It had all been done correctly.  I'm not completely sure about the hand washing but I decided not to go crazy with my expectations.

Yes, he's almost fourteen but this is a day that I never thought would come.

We've been in potty training Josh for almost twelve years.  He started sitting on the little training potty at age 2.  Every step seemed to take a zillion times longer than for a typically developing child.  I remember putting night time diapers on him at age 9, worried that we would stop being able to find diapers in his size wondering, "What will we do when he is an adult?"

Josh just never seemed all that motivated.  There was no desire to be a "big boy" and to be like other kids.  He was fine just to go in his pants or bed.  He was happy to have us wipe him.

He's had accidents in every possible conceivable place: in the car, at the grocery store, at the bagel shop, in other people's homes, at church, and in the great outdoors.  He even went through a season when he would pee on electronics like DVD players, portable stereos and TVs.  Ah, what adventures we've had.  I've had moments of panic in so many different contexts as I've raised my little blessing.

How many hours have we spent working on this area?  With hope against hope, we kept trying.  We had to teach him by rote, by just doing certain things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.  We taught him to wipe peanut butter off of his arm, then his leg just to teach him how to wipe and clean something.  We had him fold exactly 8 squares of toilet paper again and again because Josh preferred to get either two or a hundred squares at a time.  We worked on the fine motor part of wiping because, at first, it was more like spreading than wiping.  It turns out that wiping is more of a challenge than one would think when you are visually impaired, you have low muscle tone and you don't really care about things being clean.

I've had consultations from multiple autism specialists, a visual impairment specialist, several occupational therapists and a physical therapist.  I am guessing that we've had at least 15 college educated people plus a half dozen people with masters degrees working on the challenge of teaching my beloved boy to wipe his bottom.  We even went to one pediatric psychiatrist with an MD/PhD for a couple of consultations.  We paid him $300 an hour to basically show me how to make fancy charts.

Like an annoying, demanding relative who lives with you in your house, toilet training has always been with us. You just wake up and keep giving it attention every day, accepting that this is a part of your life.

But now, he's done it. My son wiped his own bum successfully all by himself.  I'm not sure if we are yet fully living in the promised land of full toileting independence but we've experienced the fruits of our determination today.   I'm proud and I'll blog it from the rooftops!  In my little special needs parenting world, today hope prevails.

Friday, May 27, 2016

Dead Hummingbird


Tough morning. Daddy is out of town. Mom forgot to set the alarm. We woke up just as Josh's bus was about to pull up at our house.  I tried to keep my voice mellow and subdued but I think I ended up sounding serious and intense.  "Girls, Mommy made a mistake and forgot to set the alarm.  I really, really need your help right now!"

The girls picked up on Mom's stressed out tone of voice and scrambled out of bed.  They were very impressive in this mini crisis getting themselves (and even helping Josh) to get ready. Someone got Josh a glass of water.  The other one gave him a very crispy piece of toast. Teeth were not brushed thoroughly and we all had crazy hair but we were only 5 minutes late heading out the door with breakfast in our hands. It was a miracle of morning productivity yet it was clear that we were all adrenalinized and on the brink of snapping at each other any minute if anything were to go wrong.

Do you know what gave me the most energy in the midst of this flurry of activity?  It was the fact that Josh smiled through the whole thing.  My son's super power is that he does not pick up on other people's emotions.  Yes, that's often a downside in social interactions but in moments like these, when negative or stressful emotions are swirling around, it can be so helpful.  Josh woke up happy and was blissfully clueless that others were not.  He was glad to be awake and no one was going to take that away from him.

Unfortunately, we opened the front door and found a dead hummingbird at our doorstep.  I think one of the girls might have even stepped on it's little dead wing as she went out. Weeping ensued. It was like a little handful of cuteness and beauty had been crushed right in front of us.  They demanded that we give it a proper burial right then and there. We three females all felt the spike of sad, negative energy in the moment.  Aya.  What to do?

"Girls, girls, please.  I am begging you.  Can we deal with this later?"  I gently placed the hummingbird's corpse in what I called a "special resting place" under a purple bush in my front  yard.

By some miracle, the girls were both able to choose to be redirected.  Josh was already in the car, munching on an apple and smiling broadly for some unknown reason.  At this point in my life it is such a beautiful thing that at least one of my children is pleasantly resistant to being infected by the negative energy or emotions of others.  He does not get pulled into the panic or anger or sadness of the people around him.  He is just where he is at.  I find that sort of wonderful.  


I want to be someone who can smile and remain happy even when people around me are not.  What is the secret to not getting sucked into other people's stress or negative emotions?  Short of having autism, my guess is that the answer is to become a person who is deeply rooted in peace.  I don't even know what that would look like but I want it.  I want to have a spiritual and emotional force field to the destructive and dark vibes that swirl all around me in my day.  

Sometimes life hands you a dead hummingbird on your front door on a day when you are already running late.  Some days are just like that.  The next time I have one of those days, I am going to picture my happy, apple eating, emotionally unfettered son and try to remember that I do not have to sink into heaviness and despair.  It is possible to be free and happy even on chaotic, dead hummingbird days.  

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

A Shared Joy is a Double Joy


Yesterday I took my kids through a drive-through car wash for the first time in their lives.  It was, to Josh, a revelation.  He was immediately deeply engaged by the experience, exuding a sense of awe that one might have when observing the Grand Canyon or the earth from space. The brushes going back and forth, the spray of the water, the squirting of the detergent, the vibrating rumblings of the machine that ensconced us, these things were absolutely enthralling to him.  

This blog is called "shower heads and hairdryers" because those have been two of Josh's absolute favorite things since he was very little.  Many autistic individuals have a special interest in unique things such as elevators, trains, or dial tones.  Showers have always been the zenith of interest for Josh.  He can spend a good part of a day drawing them.   One year for his birthday, we printed out dozens of images of shower heads and hairdryers and put them up all over the house.  It was better than a trip to Disneyland for my son.  

 As the carwash brushes whirled by spraying florets of water, I could hear Josh whisper with a voice of wonder, "shower head." 

"Yes, Josh" I said. "It's like we're in a shower head.  Like a car shower."

"Like a car shower," said Mr. Amazed.  "Like a car shower."  

For the next 10 minutes, Josh yapped happily about his experience, savoring the sounds of talking about what he had just seen.  

"Like a shower.  Like a brower.   Like a shower head.  Like a dower.  Is it like a zower?  Drower?  "

After a while, Josh's annoyed sisters coudn't tune him out.  "Josh, please stop."

But there was no stopping him.  Home boy was on a roll.  "Zower.  Like a shower.  Shower head. Brower.  Would you like a dower?  It's a car shower.  A car brower."  

"Girls, let him talk.  He's happy."  I said, taking in Josh's exuberance.  

Yes, Josh was very happy and he wanted to share it, in his own way.  And this filled me with joy, even though it was a little bit like being swallowed by a Dr. Seuss book.  My son was sharing about something.  He wanted us to share in something that he was experiencing. 

When I serve in our church's nursery, one of the things that tears my heart a little is watching little 9 month babies point to things.  Pointing is a sign of something very important in a child in terms of his or her neuro-social development.  That child is wanting to share about something with another person.  Pointing, eye contact, shared attention on another interesting object, these are things that naturally happen in a typically developing child, even at a very young age.  It is a critical building block of learning and connecting.  A child points to something then an adult says, "Yes, that's a train. It's Thomas the train.  And this is Percy.  Percy is green!" With a facial expression, tone of voice, and eye contact the child takes in the nuances of meaning.  The experience of sharing attention is a magical portal for learning.

Most autistic children have a very low impulse to have shared attention.  They are often content to experience things on their own, thus, their worlds tend to develop in ways that are not very connected to most people.  This was true of Josh.  I don't ever remember him pointing to things.  He rarely wanted to share his interest or joy in something that was interesting to him. Shared interest has been, to Josh, a very, very thin thread in his developmental life but it's there. 

Yet, in this moment, even in his ramblings, I could tell that Josh was trying to express to us that he had experienced something extraordinary: a shower in a car.  I longed to milk this moment of shared attention and shared joy for all that it was worth.  

This morning as I woke Josh up, I said to him, "We were in a car shower yesterday, huh, Josh?"  He smiled a little smile and said, "Car shower".  And I thought that there was a split second of eye contact as he said it.  

A professor once told me that a shared joy is a double joy.  And even though I need to be at work in a few minutes, I have to post about this moment because I want to double, triple, quadruple my joy.  My son had a moment of joy and, in his own way, he wanted to tell me about it!  It brings me such happiness to reflect on it, to relive the moment!  ZOWER!

May you have a moment of wonder today and may you have the grace-joy-synergy-energy to share about it.