The Value of Going with the Flow

I didn’t learn to swim until I was 9 or 10. I’m not sure what the reasoning was behind that, especially since, growing up in southern California, I was surrounded by beaches and pools. But it might have been even before I learned to swim that I learned how to jump waves in the ocean. I loved how the motion of jumping would lift my body over the swell, just floating up and over it. And then came my favorite part – being up to my shoulders in the ocean, I would move with the tide as it rhythmically pulled and pushed me, back and forth, outside of my control but manageable. I felt soothed and at peace. In the ocean or in life, I learned early on to go with the flow.

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I’ve received quite a few emails since my last post asking how things went at the adult foster home that we toured, and I am pleased and relieved to say that things went very well. The house manager was friendly and sincere, genuinely caring about “the guys” in his charge, three of whom also have epilepsy. And “the guys” were great – most of them were just a little older than Neil, and at first meeting, so similar. Neil mentioned that he had a lot of books, and one of the guys asked what kind of books, so Neil listed H.G. Wells and Jules Verne, two of his favorites. Another guy chimed in and started rattling off titles by those authors, and Neil nodded or said, “Yeah, I’ve got that” to each one. They were completely in sync. Another guy asked if Neil had any Louis L’Amour, and he said no. I wondered if Neil was familiar with Louis L’Amour, but then when we were leaving, he went up to the guy who had asked him, and Neil said, “See you later, my hombre.” The other guy smiled and they shook hands and clapped each other on the back, like they had been friends for years. And, as I so often do for various reasons, I felt very emotional because I realized something.

Neil had found his tribe.

He’s had friends over the years, kids in Boy Scouts who had taken him under their wing, who truly cared about him, and they’ve been such a blessing in his life. Then recently, by default he made a friend from his social skills class who has Asperger’s, and they both love movies. But this was different.  Of course it’s wonderful that he felt so comfortable at that home and immediately fit in with the guys there. It went better than I could have hoped, and I’m very grateful.

But seeing them all together, interacting, seeing their similarities, stirred something in me.  They are all individuals of course, but their level of “autisticness” is the same. Standing there in that living room surrounded by young men with autism, it struck me that I’m no longer “waiting to see” how Neil will be “when he gets older.” This is how he is. This is who he is, who he has always been.

My greatest hope for Neil was not that he would learn to talk (although of course I hoped and prayed for that too, like mad), but that his adult life would be happy and fulfilling for him, whatever that looked like, and that he would be appreciated for who he is. And whether this would be his “forever home” or not (he still very much wants to go to film school), I think my hope for his adult life would be fulfilled there. Not only would he be appreciated, but understood, and accepted. And, I hope with all my heart, happy.

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In this ocean of life, in which we ride waves or jump them, or stay on shore to watch, all we can do is go where the water takes us. We certainly can and should fight the current if we find that we are getting into unsafe territory, but rarely do we get to that point if we are paying attention. Most of the time, we can just stand in the water with our feet still on the ground, and sway with the tide, open to whichever way it might take us and whatever opportunities it puts before us.

*Photo credit: Jenny Bess