Despite the fact that that we’ve been prepping him with the news that his beloved Pop (great-grandpa) would soon be going Home to Jesus, it still came as a bit of a shock to him that Pop passed away. Ahh, Asperger Syndrome. We then began preparing for our trip – packing, finalizing things with teachers for the end of the school year, all the while taking time to discuss physical death, funerals, Heaven, family members already in Heaven, and our trip.
We started our trip from Pennsylvania to Florida on Wednesday. First stop: Picasso’s therapy, as it was on the way.
The first therapist reported something very unusual. Picasso made up rules to a game then set about LOSING at the game. On purpose. Without reservation about that. This is extremely unusual and very indicative that all was not well inside of him.
The second therapist reported definite struggles in her session, and an inability to verbalize his thoughts – actually not being able to put the words together; not just a lack of desire to talk. They were able to discuss some point of view issues – his & hers – after some time, but it did not come easily.
What made us so proud, though, through all of this, was what happened next. In trying to get him to verbalize something – anything! – the therapist said, “I can’t read your mind. And in reality, no one really can.”
To which he replied (while looking right in her eyes): “Jesus can!”
How great that he knows that – and that when he’s struggling, he is not uncertain of the fact that JESUS knows his mind and his heart, even when words fail him.
Not *only* this, but the therapist reported that when she was trying to help him continue to discuss things, she would say, “Remember, I’m not Jesus.” And knowing her, it was not said in an unkind way, or making fun of his spiritual reference. Quite the opposite, in fact. She said she chose those words specifically, because the name of Jesus was what was getting through to him.