Necklace, Tats, and Ms. T.
“Sacred Moments”
Written by the Plank-eyed Girl
April, 2013
Silence fills her car as
I drive it towards the unknown destination.
It is an address on a sticky note.
I am in a foreign state; unknown city; and odd place. My thoughts are
like a dragonfly on steroids, zipping wildly through my brain. Unable to direct them or even pause them and
too tired to care, I just let the cacophony play. Unlike a beautiful symphony, the chorus is
dissident and erratic. It makes my head
pound, but I can’t stop it. The vehicle
reaches the destination that I was instructed to go to. Automatically, I get out of the car and hesitantly walk
toward the only door in sight.
It’s a bare room with a
couple of stiff, scratchy, hardened chairs and an old beige phone on the
wall. Glancing around, I am instructed
by a small laminated paper tacked to the wall, to pick up the phone. A bouncy voice greets me and I struggle for
words. With the comfort of a cowboy who
is mounting his horse after a long vacation, the voice instructs me to go to
the only other door and enter. (How many
times a day and night does this voice greet us who are scared and
confused?) I say nothing. Somehow the phone finds its way to the
receiver and I turn towards the door. Entering,
the intake nurse rises to greet me like an old friend. Immediately I can feel myself deeply exhale. I hadn’t realized I was holding my
breath. Everyone in this small room
hears it and the awkward silence turns to a nervous laugh.
I find myself in a chair
next to the precious one. Grateful for
her and the fact she didn’t succeed.
Grateful for another chance at life.
Grateful that she is allowing me to walk with her through this. She takes my hand and I instantly start
caressing the top of her hand, like when she was a young one. Suddenly my eyes are darting around the room,
finally landing on the intake nurse’s necklace. It is a cross.
My doubtful heart screams, really?
My eyes continue their journey and come to rest on the nurse’s forearm. I can feel the tears starting to pool in the
corners of my eyes. I can’t seem to make
my eyes change focus. They have landed
on a tat that says, “truth”. It is
large. It is colorful. It was purposefully unhidden. The second “T” is made into a cross.” My hand automatically springs to my
check. Clear liquid is cascading down my
cheeks. The precious one traces my gaze
with her eyes and sees what I am seeing.
She has always been observant. She gently smiles a knowing smile. God has reached into this moment and declared
that He is with us.
Each day is blending into
the other. I have no “normal” anymore. Friends call to check on me. Oddly, I am yearning for them just to talk at
me about “normal” things. I don’t have
words to explain all that is going on. I
shove the thoughts out of my consciousness.
It is Friday morning and
I want to thank the precious one’s colleagues.
I gather the treats and make my way to the facility and the people that
she loves. Entering, I am warmly
received. Seconds into the visit, a hand
softly takes my elbow and I am steered out into the courtyard. Ms. T sits me down in the gazebo and firmly
states, “He’s got this!” Without even
skipping a beat she proceeds to launch into sharing the gospel with me and
telling me that she has taken the precious one under her wing and is basically a surrogate
mother to her. Time seems to stand still
and I am aware that in these moments, I am witnessing an answer to my petition
over the last year. Ms. T is the
passionate pursuer of my God who has been walking alongside the precious one. I stop her mid-sentence. She quietly asks me if I am okay. With barely an audible whisper, I squeak out,
“You are the one that I prayed for all those days and nights!” We hug and there is an unspoken awareness
that this is a sacred moment. God has
reached into this moment and declared that He is with us.
Three hours have elapsed
since being escorted to the conference room of this locked down facility. My companions have been Dr. N and Mrs.
B. I have addressed all the milestones
of the precious one’s childhood; teen years; and young adult journey. They have listened and Dr. N has scratched
notes. At the three hour mark, we
pause. I am exhausted. I don’t know what else to say. Dr. N.
breaks the silence and states, “I believe she has been
misdiagnosed. Let’s go through some
markers again.” He states a marker, I
give an example from the precious one’s journey thus far. Out of the 35 markers, she has 33. Mrs. B. raises her gaze from the table and
says, “YOU are an incredible mother. YOU
have done everything right. If it wasn’t
for you and your husband, she would not be as high functioning as she is.” A look of puzzlement streaks across my
face. The doctor catches the look and
interjects, “She is a high-functioning Asperger’s”. My jaw hits the top of the table. My thoughts start racing again. “How could I have missed this?” “What kind of mother am I.” Dr. N’s voice breaks through and I realize
that he is speaking to me. Regaining
control of my voice, I hear myself say, “It all makes sense now!” I am numb.
I am relieved. I am confused. I am exhausted and wish for arms to hold me
tonight. Dr. N and Mrs. B stand up,
evidently the meeting is over and I am left to digest this myself. Mrs. B walks me toward the locked double
doors. She is saying something to me,
but I don’t hear her. We get to the doors
and she pauses, touches my arm and says, “Crystal, I have a 17 year old
daughter who is a high-functioning Asperger’s.
You are not alone. YOU have done
a good job and showed amazing strength.”
Our eyes are locked on each other and I realize the clear liquid is
slipping silently down my cheeks again.
She gently wipes my cheek and once again I am aware that God has reached
into this moment and declared that He is with us.
These are the things that
have peppered my week with the sacred moments of God's amazing presence. He uses ordinary people, in ordinary jobs, to
be His hands and feet to those He brings along.
You may NEVER know the full extent of the impact of your actions and
words on strangers and friends, but know that He using you!
May we never walk alone.
I am with you on this
journey!
~The Plank-Eyed Girl
