There’s a reason I focus so much on Autism Appreciation when talking about my non-verbal son. Propping up the positive points of his personality that come from his autism is done for a purpose.

I do it because I know how jarring it is for some people when they first meet him. Lucas’s way of expressing himself can sometimes be hard to understand. His reactions to things or stimming behavior can push strangers away. 

Before Lucas, I would have been a bit apprehensive around a boy like him. I can admit that and, in doing so, it helps me to accept those who might be in that boat now. Autism acceptance goes both ways and we never close the door on those who might have an understandable reaction to things they don’t understand. As long as a person isn’t rude, we’re open to any questions they might have.

Just in case I needed a refresher about how unique our lives can be, I had one a few years ago. I was awoken in the middle of the night by blood-curdling screams.

This wasn’t some shout or holler. This was horror movie soundtrack stuff. My blood chilled and, half asleep, I leaped to my feet. I worried that my daughter was in trouble and I began calling out to her.

What’s wrong!? I’m coming!

Just as I started for the bedroom door, I noticed that the shrieks were coming from my son’s room, not his sister’s. A voice in my head reminded me:

That’s Lucas. He does that.

I stopped short, turned back to the bed, and crawled under the covers…as his ear-piecing screams of stimming happiness rained down around me.

For a brief moment in time, I had been pulled back to the days before screeches were the background music of our lives. One of Lucas’s most identifiable reactions was something that, out of context and without exposure, sets off alarm bells. I forgot about that, but that’s how those unfamiliar with our home would take it.

It’s this knowledge that changed my approach to the world. When we’re out, if Lucas screams and someone looks over for a second to make sure everything’s okay, I let that go. There was a time when I might not have. I know people who probably wouldn’t in my situation.

Now, don’t get me wrong, if people gawk and stare for ten minutes, we’re going to have an issue. I’m talking about that initial glance. People who look to see where the screams are coming from aren’t staring out of malice. They’re staring out of surprise or confusion. It’s understandable.

Bear in mind, that I don’t allow him to scream endlessly in places where that’s not allowed. If we went to a show or a recital, Lucas would be on his best possible behavior. Nowadays, he knows how to handle himself and tries his best. In the old days, I spent many events chasing him down a hallway as he hops with delight to YouTube Kids.

I am saying this to point out that people notice Lucas when Lucas pushes himself somewhere into their field of attention. Whether he’s breaking the silence with a shout or melting down over not wanting to go down a particular supermarket aisle, the times he gets noticed by strangers are when they think he’s doing something “bad”.

And I hate that.

It pains me to think that others might perceive my son’s special needs as a source of constant distress, overshadowing the abundance of beautiful moments we share. He’s not just a child with challenges. He’s a boy full of love, humor, and countless other remarkable traits that often go unnoticed. His non-verbal nature unveils a unique form of expression, a sweetness that’s profound and deeply touching.

These wonderful attributes set him apart in the most extraordinary ways. Yet, I’m aware that such subtle nuances of his personality might not be as immediately noticeable from across a grocery store as his difficult ones. It’s this unseen depth of character that I wish the world could witness and appreciate as much as I do. That’s why I usually make it the focal point when discussing him.

Are there challenges? Sure, but that’s not all that he brings to the table. To some, though, even the good moments were cause for sympathy.

One of my favorite stories from my son’s early days was about him running past me as I was about to eat a hard pretzel. He stopped short, made eye contact, and tapped his chest to say “give me” for my pretzel.

Knowing he hated hard pretzels, I tried to talk him out of it while he defiantly continued patting his chest. So I gave it to him…and he licked it…and he handed it back to me before running off.

This story made me laugh so hard, but telling an acquaintance was like telling someone the plot of Sophie’s Choice. They’d make a sad face, click their lips in a sympathetic tone, and, as one told me…

Aw. Just keep trying. He’ll get it. You’ll see. Miracles.

What?!

That’s when I realized that it might be better if I had an outlet to tell the good parts of Lucas’s amazing story without allowing someone to stop me halfway through with a thought or a prayer.

Share our journey of autism appreciation and hear me out until the finish. If you do, you’ll see that our story has a happy ending.

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