Opening the Sky: Rays of Summer Heaven

Mother looked up to to Dad as we all chattered and sang the old songs as he drove down the road, and then she thoughtfully said, "This is the happiest moment in the world right now."

--Frank and Ernestine Galbraith in Cheaper by the Dozen

It has always seemed to me, ever since early childhood, amid all the commonplaces of life, I was very near to a kingdom of ideal beauty. Between it and me hung only a thin veil. I could never draw it quite aside, but sometimes a wind fluttered it and I caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond--only a glimpse--but those glimpses always made life worthwhile.

L. M. Montgomery in The Alpine Path, the Story of My Career, 1917

This is the day that my 17 year old son who has autism was asked to drive a truck in an Idaho field while other teenage boys bailed the hay. The man in the forefront has three adopted sons with autism. When he knew we were coming to help him bail the hay, he said, "I really want Elias to drive the truck. He can do it." Our good friend stayed in the cab to teach him how to navigate the field. Brian later said, "It was a landmark day of my summer." We all could not stop smiling for about a day after that little drive.

The summer was filled with some new mountains to ascend, but always on the way there are some pockets of joy hidden in the bushes. I continually relearn that sometimes the path to new terrains can surprise you. That is what happened to me on this day in rural Idaho. Although I have been the traversing the "autism mountain" (Blog on My Autism Mountain) for awhile now, I still get unexpected new views. When the wise farmer asked if Elias could drive the truck, I had a long pause. I thought to myself that he could not possibly do it. But only a few minutes later, with the loving mentorship of two remarkable men, Elias was helping to do a farm chore that needed to get done.

As the other boys loaded the hay and called out to Elias, complimenting him, there was an undeniable and pervasive feeling of incredible love. We all were serving a rugged, wise, and good farmer who needed some help. Yet, he was helping us too. Without his land, his need to get the bails of hay loaded, and his insistence that a teenage boy with autism could drive his truck, the day of heaven would never have happened.

Yesterday as Elias and I were talking while we swam, he spontaneously said, "I am having a great life, Mom. I have a good community in my life." I was stumped on what to say. And then between strokes, we talked about the flow of people who have come on this autism trek. As the enlarging people all over this world paraded before my eyes, some tears mixed with the chlorine water. There have been so many rescuers on this mountain with us. But sometimes it takes a heavenly day to begin remembering the faces that have brought other "thin space" days to us.

So a question, "How can we have more glimpses of heaven in our days?" Remembering this day and all others that have pushed me higher, I want them to be more abundant in all seasons and places.