Breaking the Sound Barrier
I once taught a Sunday School class composed of mostly autistic teenage boys who were unable to speak. On one particular Sunday as I delivered the lesson, replete with visual aids, I noticed that one of the boys - lets call him John - was sitting perfectly still, head in his hands, staring at the floor. To my eyes, he looked upset and I asked him several times during the class if he was OK. But I got no response, no acknowledgement in any way of my well intentioned concern. However, after class, as everyone was beginning to leave, John walked up to me, placed his hands on my cheeks, and forcefully turned my head to face him. Then looking me straight in the eye, he gave me a big smile. You see, John was concerned about me too. He wasn't able to talk but he knew how to break the sound barrier and tell me everything was alright. I later learned that people with autism experience sensory overload and sometimes can't effectively process auditory and visual signals simultaneously. That Sunday morning John had chosen to shut off the video to focus on the audio - my words.
My biggest frustration is my loss of the power of speech. I'm no longer able to talk - one on one - with the people I love the most. Even my wife can seldom understand what passes from my lips for words. So now I use exaggerated facial movements, hand signals, and body language to get my messages across. I can compose sentences with the voice synthesizer on my IPad, but communicating this way is agonizingly slow. And forget entirely about joining a conversation. By the time I have my responses ready to send, the moment is lost and the conversation has moved on.
I have only now lost my ability to speak. But John is 20 or so and has never spoken a complete sentence in his life. And unless a miracle happens he never will. When I'm angry and tempted to take out my frustrations on those I love, I'm going to try to remember the patience and grace that John showed me that Sunday morning.
I chose to read today's blog first.
ReplyDeleteI will heed your words, your example and this blog, this outreach of yours. Thank you. It is a gracious, one the deepest and truest sense of that word, a gracious gift from you.
Thanks MB.
DeleteThough we have not met, I've met those you've known. I work for Zephyr in San Antonio. I have had ice poured on my head - in solidarity with my colleague Ryan - who was nominated and voted into the Challenge. I believe in committing resources to find cures for human ailment and to talking about it. Thank you for talking about your experience. I challenge myself to learn to live more fully.. now.
ReplyDeleteThanks Supercat for your kind words and support in fighting ALS. I'm happy Zephyr is now in SA; you're part of a great company.
ReplyDeleteI still remember you telling me about your encounter with "John" in class that day years ago and how it affected you. I guess God was preparing you for the journey you now face with such grace.
ReplyDeleteCharliss
Hi David. I love this idea you have. I'm very interested in following you inspiring stories. Teach me more David. Love you always.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful insight David!! thank you for sharing this. Looking forward to much more!!
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