I’m writing because I honestly don’t know what else to do with my “big” feelings as we frequently call them and this journey sometimes requires an outlet.

First of all, I’ve been struck lately by all the good around us.  We were shown incredible love during Max’s surgery in late April and that has carried us through.  But I’ve taken notice of the little (but really big) ways people demonstrate love to us when least expected.  Just this morning, Max and I were at the grocery store.  He was really upset that the cashier was taking items out of our cart to scan them.  Recognizing that Max was struggling, the cashier quietly called his colleague over to help him bag so they could get us on our way more quickly.  It didn’t require a dramatic scene, he didn’t make a big deal out of it, he simply did it because he knew it would make things easier for us.  And I noticed.  I have countless other examples like that from just the last few weeks and I wish I could do more than just share a genuine “thank you” as I’m flying out the door to get Max settled.

None of these random acts of kindness, however, are quite at the level of what we experienced late yesterday afternoon. 

I finished a different blog post while waiting for Fletcher at OT about making the decision to remove Max from school last week (which I’ll put up shortly) – one of the reasons was safety, as he was quietly leaving his classroom and walking down three flights of stairs by himself – past the front door which lead to a very busy street. We felt like it was just a matter of time before he realized he could push the doors open and get outside the walls of school.  The thought of that was completely terrifying.

Ironically, while we were at Fletcher’s appointment, Max got the idea that he wanted to go to the park.  He was being cared for by a dear family member who knows him well, loves him beyond measure and is very in tune with his needs.  Max was moving around their house as he normally does.  It’s essentially his home away from home and he’s very comfortable there.  The back door was shut tight but not locked.  He’d play in one room, pitter patter to the next, explore, maybe toss a rubber ducky into the bathroom toilet (that’s a new thing!), settle into the couch to watch a show, and do it all over again.  When the movement became silent his caregiver thought Max was hiding.  Efforts to call his name and search the house came up empty – he couldn’t be located.

Fletcher and I drove in the driveway shortly after.  We searched the entire house together and outside – no luck.  I decided to drive to the park nearby which Max loves – he is taken there frequently.  When I got back in the car to drive the equivalent of three or four city blocks, I heard a police siren and then it abruptly stopped.  My heart started to race.  I drove one street over, took a quick right and saw a police car across the busy street along with two women…. And MAX.

I whipped into the nearby driveway, got out of the car and scooped Max up.  He was hysterical.  Not because he was scared necessarily, but because the folks protecting him were preventing him from going to his beloved park.

I learned that the two women had both stopped their cars on the busy road, got out, and ensured Max got to the sidewalk safely.  They called the police and stayed with him until the police arrived.  I can’t even bear the thought of all of the what ifs.  We live in a city where reckless driving is rampant.  I’m thanking my lucky stars that these women were driving down that road at the exact time we needed them.

They greeted me with such grace.  They were so grateful Max was safe and that I was there.  In the moment I didn’t even think to get their names or contact information, but you better believe I’ll be paying it forward.  And the police officers were amazing, too.  Max was less than thrilled that they were trying to keep him safe, but they handled it all with poise and understanding and no judgment.  It was absolutely everything we needed.  Kindness, grace, and genuine compassion.

Here’s the honest truth.  This could’ve happened to any one of us. Max is with family (including us) 100% of the time.  He’s nonverbal and very quiet, but wickedly smart.  He is an adept nonverbal communicator and has a tenacious way of getting his needs met.  Apparently even if it means walking himself to the park.  We’re vigilant about locking doors and always knowing where he is, but as he grows older and smarter, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to stay two steps ahead of him.

Our extended family has several examples of how God has demonstrated steadfast love and grace at very critical times.  Our experience yesterday will without a doubt be added to that list.  

Rather than dwell on all the ways this scenario could have ended differently, we’re choosing to bask in the overwhelming gratitude we have for the angels among us. And also for the love we’re consistently shown – by our support network and by complete strangers.  Are there sideways glances from folks in public sometimes?  Sure.  Nothing is perfect.  But if we chose to focus on that, we’d be bitter and angry.  And to be honest, the folks making assumptions about our kids and our life aren’t privileged enough to experience all of the really good stuff with us – I feel sad for them in that regard.  

Remaining focused on all of the good (which completely outshines the not so good), gives us hope, appreciation, and the capacity to gracefully receive love in the most unexpected ways. 

We’re over here pivoting quickly – researching GPS monitoring systems, making communication boards to be placed by all doors, figuring out if we need motion sensor alarms and developing strategies to support Max around the events that took place yesterday so we can prevent that scenario from happening again.

But we’re also taking the time to reflect on how lucky we are to be surrounded by so much good.  So here’s to the good.  May you seek it, may you give it, and may you experience it.