Caleb started soccer. The way he ended up on the soccer team is a story in itself, to be blogged another day. The situation seemed promising, so we happily purchased the gear (yes, Chris let him buy gold shoes!) and escorted him to his first practice.
Yesterday, Caleb attended his first practice with Chris there as his personal cheerleader. I stayed home with the other boys and was enjoying a peaceful evening when the boys returned home.
Caleb was in tears. Chris looked peeved, to say the least. When Chris gets out of sorts, I'm nervous. After all, Chris deals with life and death situations daily without even breaking a sweat. Chris doesn't freak out, and he rarely looks agitated.
Caleb stormed up to his room. So, I searched for answers from my husband.
Evidently Caleb was doing fine in the practice until he lost at a game. That's when he lost it: completely, utterly, couldn't keep it together.
Caleb wasn't ready to talk last night. He fell asleep without any conversation.
After he was in a deep slumber, I crawled into his bed and just watched him. I thought about how ironic it was that I bore this child but don't understand him. How I really just want to know "why?," but feel like I'll probably never really know. How I wish I could help him, but don't have the slightest idea even where to start. How a child on the autism spectrum can be so complex, challenging, and hard.
I brushed a piece of hair behind his ear, and kissed his cheek. I was flooded with my memories of Caleb: a precious baby, inquisitive toddler, and energetic preschooler.
I prayed a simple prayer. Lord, grant us understanding. And, that sums up all I really need.
Chris wants Caleb to continue in soccer and I know he has valid reasons. I think the journey may be treacherous, and scary, and hard...but I'm hoping all of us will come to the other side better for making the trek.