To the mother who took her adult son to Cotton Patch at lunchtime
today, I would like to tell you something.
I was sitting there catching up with a friend about all the things
going on in our lives; the good, the bad, and the ugly, when your son started
hitting the seat very hard and yelling. Loudly.
People began to look. Was this young man a danger? What was wrong
with him? You put your arm on him and said quiet words to him and then things
went back to normal.
But he was not finished, your son. He next began to yell out
words. Bad words. Words I would not want my children to hear. Again, loudly and
while hitting the seat next to him.
People now began to get up and leave, or move, and you and your
son both began to be the recipients of some harsh glances. Again you leaned
over to your son and said quiet words to him.
He yelled out in response, “No! We don’t need to go! I’ll be good,
I promise!”
It was at this point that my friend and I became sure of what we
suspected. Your son had Tourette Syndrome, and our hearts broke for
you.
You sat there, with your son, and pretended the whole restaurant
was not looking at you. You pretended not to notice as the wait staff sat the
new customers far away from your table. You pretended not to notice as your
section emptied out. You tried to simply have a nice lunch out with your son.
Something other mothers take for granted.
I wanted to say something to you; something reassuring, something
encouraging. We were not all judging you, Mom of a Special Needs Adult Child.
Some of us were praying for you. Some of us were willing your son to calm down
so you could enjoy your time out.
Your son never did calm down. He yelled and hit the chair and
hollered out obscenities the entire time you were there. You handled it so
well. You were an inspiration, the way you loved your son despite his unloving
and socially unacceptable behavior. You deserve a medal, Mom of a Special Needs
Adult Child.
The minute you were done eating, you paid and left the restaurant.
You did not linger and have a nice conversation with your son. You got up and
left as soon as you were able.
I am sorry you felt you had to do that. I am sorry the world is
not a very nice place to you or your son. I hope you don’t give up. I hope you
don’t hide.
I wanted to tell you that I was pleased you did not stay home. I
thought you were brave, and a great mother for taking your son to lunch, but
you left so quickly, I didn’t get the chance.
Since I missed my opportunity to tell you those things, I will
pray for you. I will pray that God encourages your spirit today, Mom of a
Special Needs Adult Child. Because you were certainly an encouragement to
mine.
1 comment:
This is beautiful. It broke my heart, yet reassured me that not everyone is making ugly, hateful remarks when these things happen. I am the mother of an ADHD child who was neither diagnosed nor medicated until 8 years old. This may seem young to those who did not live it, but it was necessary for her to lean anything. I am the "auntie" to a nonverbal, 10 year old with Down Syndrome. She yells when she gets agitated, and that almost always happens when we're in a restaurant. Some people grin & bear it (she's small for her age); some people leave as soon as they can. I have an autistic cousin. He doesn't do well in public, so he stays home a lot where he can play in the fenced in yard & holler as much as he wants. They are all precious. They are all special to someone. They are all human. Thank you for posting this. I will be praying for that mother as well.
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