Quick note to self before posting blog entry:

Make it brief and for the love of all that is sacred please don't force the people reading your blog to actually picture you in a speedo.  From the emails I have received that image may have cost me a few subscribers...

Here is my quick reflection on my Adam's Camp 2010 Day Two:

 
Asking for help is a skill I have not mastered and I often refuse to do it.  Even if I was at the hardware store trying to desperately and quickly find the right screwdriver for McGyver who needed it to defuse a bomb that was going to blow up a van full of cancer curing puppy/kitten hybrids in the next several minutes I still wouldn't ask for help.  My aversion to asking for some assistance is not because I am some tough dude that carries a hunting knife wherever he goes and drives a truck that is adorned with imitation cow nuts (Tangent alert: Have you seen those things??  what the hell does driving around with animal chew-chew's have to do with anything?  why does someone think that I need to see those while driving?  I have enough problems just seeing over the steering wheel and reaching the brake at the same time.  I don't need to be seeing Ole' Blue's twins swaying in the-not-so gentle wyoming wind.) who is afraid to show weakness.  I refuse to ask for help because I hate bothering people.  Yes, I know that people in customer service are actually paid to help me...but still it is part of the neuroses that make me the half man I am today. 

That is one of the two reasons I always 'earned" such horrible scores in math during my school years.  I was terrible at it and I hated having to go back to the teacher every five minutes to try and get my brain around a problem.  The other reason I was terrible at math was because I, at a very early age, choose watching glorious prime-time network shows like Fantasy Island, Riptide, Remington Steele, St. Elsewhere, and many others instead of actually trying to figure it out.  I blame the writers of Falcons Crest for the fact that I never could quite figure out long division.  Anyway asking for help was something I never did even when I was younger...and that was a personality tick that I carried over into adulthood.

So when Noah was diagnosed seven years ago with Autism my immediate reaction was to close my family off to the outside world.  To not let anyone know what was going on, but to try and handle this on our own.  I could not expect anyone else to understand what was happening to us when I sure as shit had no clue about what to think.  For a brief moment my stupid pride took the helm and it convinced me that asking the world for help "raising my own son" would be the ultimate intrusion, and the ultimate sign of failure. I remembered the fun old saying my 700 year old Algebra teacher (who happened to be a nun...very nice lady...hate my guts...) used to tell me "God helps those who help themselves".  Also, keep in mind that seven years ago the topic of autism was not as mainstream as it is today.  Back then there was no big "Autism Awareness Month" or Autism Speaks.  My wife and I had never met anyone who was autistic, nor did we know a thing about it.  Nowadays the level of understanding about it (especially in Wyoming) has blossomed immeasurably. 

My internal plan on keeping my son's journey through the maze of autism on the down low only lasted a short time.  Soon after his diagnosis we found out about Adam's Camp.  I remember driving up thinking that I was going to be extremely uncomfortable talking to the therapists about how much help my little Noah needed.  At that time he was so deeply lost inside himself and I was afraid of asking for help on things that seemed impossible.

What I found when I got here is a collection of people who have come to work with my child out of love and nothing else.  I found a group of therapists, teachers, and living saints who took my family by the hand and helped us dream again about the future of our angel boy.  They made it impossible to not ask for their help.  For the past seven years we have been touched by these amazing men and women who make the pilgrimage every summer up the mountain to pour their hearts and skills into our children.  They are selfless, tireless, and some of the most humble and loving people I have ever met.  I have learned that in order for this incredible therapists and specialists to fulfill their vocation and their passion to serve I must get over myself and simply whisper the words "Please help us..." 

Right now as you are reading this there are a bunch of families sitting on a mountain with their hands reaching out for help because they feel so helpless.  And right now as you are reading this there are a bunch of servants sitting on a mountain putting their hands on top of the hands of the those people and giving them a squeeze to let them know that help is on the way.  Lives will be changed up here.  Miracles will happen.  Children will breakthrough the walls that capture them.  And  the reason that is happening is because people like me learned to ask for help, and also, because there were people here willing to serve us.

The people here who serve my family are the hands of God.  They are the best example to me of what unconditional love looks like.  I sit by the glow of my computer light in absolute awe of them.

I pray that I continue to wake up to the fact that sometimes the greatest harm I can ever cause my children is to believe that I have all the answers and stand in the way of those who do.   I don't have many answers.  I need help.  Today I am reminded that I have it.  I just have to have the courage to climb the mountain here to camp every year and be willing to ask for help.  The people who serve can't help our family climb this mountain every year...but when we do they will great us with warm embraces and hope that replaces our sense of helplessness. 

Don't be like me.  Don't let your ego stand in your way.  Ask for help when you need it.  You might be surprised at the quality of people who answer it.  I was.

If you don't believe me that you need to ask for help in life please watch this video by this blinkly, uncomfortable man, who may or may not be some sort of metaphysical con man.  But...he brings up a couple good points:



Yikes...I feel like he is staring right into my soul...or even worse...my wallet.  Still...he kind of makes sense.


So much for a quick entry, huh?  Someone needs an editor...