I was given a schoolin’ in counting my blessings last night.
After dinner we (the family) decided to take advantage of the gorgeous weather (read: the fact that there was no snow on the ground FINALLY) and head over to the playground to play basketball. Or rather, that game where I sipped coffee while my husband and kids acted like NBA players.
In any event, not long after we got there we started hearing this bone-chillingly desperate screaming. SCREAMING. Like, top of your lung capacity screaming. I was convinced that someone was being murdered. In fact, they were yelling “they’re going to kill me” as well as various other desperate pleas. Never have I heard anything like that before. The basketball courts were packed and everyone stopped dead in their tracks.
Of course I called 911.
I was shaking. Friends, I was truly convinced someone was being tortured or something of that nature. Men from the playground were mobilizing to go into the house when the cops arrived.
Turns out that it wasn’t a murder or an assault or anything of that nature. It was an Autistic child. SCREAMING. BLOODY. MURDER. Literally.
I couldn’t believe it. My heart went out to that family. I ached for them. And for their children.
My own son has had challenges. He has been diagnosed with ADD and a tic disorder. He has extreme difficulties in school and has had tutors and been going to clinics for years. He reacts to every medicine under the son and barely eats.
Before last night, I thought that our family had trials.
I was wrong.
I am counting my blessings.
I f you would like to learn more about Autism, log on to Autismspeaks.org.