Building a Village

Shortly after Marshall was diagnosed, I did one of the only logical things I could think to do: I checked out every book from the library on autism.  I read short books and long books and passed on the books that didn’t hold my attention.  I read like I was doing research for a school project -- unemotionally.  I read for content and background and common threads from book to book.  I was building an arsenal of vocabulary, repetitively reading about the same topics from different authors as a way to reinforce the information. 

I’ll never forget a particular chapter that I read along the way.  I wish I could remember the title in order to give appropriate credit to the author, but for the life of me I can’t remember anything about the book.  What I do remember is a chapter that talked about people who “get it.”  Finding the people who “get” your child, and keeping them close.  The author went on to explain that regardless of title, background, education or job description, there will be people in your life who understand your child, and people in your life who don’t.  The author explained that even some therapists with exceptional training might not “get” your child, while a friend or relative without any training or background in autism might be your best resource. 

I remember being surprised that an author of a non-fiction book based on science and research would find it so important to include information like that.  I felt relieved, a little, as we had already experienced some of what the author mentioned there.  I recognized in that moment that Marshall would have a village of people that helped raise him, just like we all do, but that his might look a little different that other kids’.

Marshall’s village is an eclectic one.  We are lucky enough that it includes our families, but not just because they are related to him—our families are part of Marshall’s village because they love him unconditionally and respect our decisions as his parents, even when they may not agree.   They engage with him alongside us, not in opposition to us.  His village is not built on geographic proximity or how often he sees people—Marshall’s village is very simply the people in his life who “get it.”  For that very reason, he is closer with my best friend who lives several states away than he may be with someone he interacts with weekly. 

Marshall’s best friend, Jeddy, is someone he hasn’t seen in nearly a year.  Their friendship was built over time on many a trip to the playground, where Jeddy’s mom, Maria, and I would escape our houses and let the boys loose.  She and I share a love for the outdoors and a desire for our boys to have space to jump and climb and exist with as few restrictions as possible.  We are not fair weather playground attendees, either— we have always found every opportunity possible to bundle up and get outside.  In my experience, there are very few slumps that can’t be shaken by breathing fresh air and talking to an adult.  I dare you to prove me wrong. Find the people who will go to the playground when it’s 40 degrees and muddy, and add them to your village.  They probably belong. 

Maria and Jeddy settled neatly into our village because life with them is just plain easy. We show up just as we are, without a second glance in a mirror or concern over what kind of behavior might emerge.  Marshall has always been comfortable around them, and we’ve ridden that wave into a beautiful friendship that makes my eyes well up and my heart swell with gratitude.  Now that they live a few hours away, Maria and I talk on the phone almost daily and our boys often hijack the conversation to be able to talk to one another.  For me, it’s the stuff of dreams—having a dear friend and sharing that experience with my boys.

Marshall’s village wasn’t built based on an application process or a set of prerequisites—I literally lifted my head, looked around, and noticed who was already there.  Who did he engage with easily?  Who was comfortable around him?  Who wanted to know more out of genuine interest, not polite small talk?  As new people entered our lives, including therapists, teachers, coaches, instructors, etc, it has been really easy to guard my heart by making an internal note—in or out.  Do they get it, or not?  If they don’t, it’s much easier to brush off comments that could otherwise offend or hurt me.  It’s easy to smile and move on—it’s okay.  Marshall doesn’t need a suburban city, just a village.  And I don’t need to take personally the comments of every person I encounter, most of whom mean well and truly want the best for Marshall.  I can save myself and others a lot of hurt by building my own boundaries quietly.  Members of the village may drift in and out—for me, the most important thing is that he has one at all.  My role as his mom is to invest in the people we need as permanent residents in our village. 

Every child needs a village—and I would argue that the need is even more crucial for a child with special needs.  Parents of special needs children can’t do it all—the weight of the journey is a lot to carry, and without scheduled breaks or people to talk to, the child themselves can suffer from their parents’ burn out.  Finding those who delight in your child and keeping them close is a lifeline cast on calm waters in anticipation of what lies ahead.  Don’t wait until you’re desperate to find out who’s in your village—take note in seasons of calm. Childcare can be tricky when your child is different—building a village opens doors of opportunity to breathe a little and have a night out without worrying about every single interaction while you’re away. 

One of the most beautiful examples of the Lord’s provision in our life has been the village He’s given Marshall. We are so lucky to be surrounded by people who love him for who he is, who walk the walk with us and are willing to step in and help when we need it.  Special needs or not—I wonder who’s in your child’s village?  Building a village has immediate benefits for the here and now—the friendships, the playdates, the help when you need a break— but I can’t wait to see how the Lord will use our village in the months, years and decades to come.  Team Marshall, in it for the long haul.