“ Thoughts on the feast of Pentecost 2009”
A personal reflection resulting from a reference to autism in fr. Simon’s sermon which turned Maggie Jackson’s thoughts to a child in her family, who at four years old has recently been diagnosed as autistic.
Feast of Pentecost 2009.
As I listened to Fr Simon’s homily for Pentecost, his reference to autism turned my thoughts to a child in my family, Leon, who at four years old has recently been diagnosed as autistic.
As he grows, it becomes more obvious that Leon is ‘different’ and that his world somehow has a perspective that most of us only glimpse in dreams. Leon’s world, for instance, in a supermarket or walking at the side of a busy road, can be chaotic and terrifying. A miniscule speck of dirt on his plate can be unbearable for him. Sitting on a chair without his feet touching the ground or some hard surface brings a sense of something like vertigo and of being disconnected, as if he is in ‘free-fall’.
But Leon’s world can also be full of wonder and joy. He loves to dance and has amazing dexterity. He has a passion for dinosaurs and from an early age has been able to identify even the most obscure species. He is very literal and we have to be precise in our use of language with him. His eyes are full of golden flecks, like stars.
When he is distraught or ‘beyond himself’ and needs to remove himself from the world of noise and chaos, he begins to spin himself around. He can keep spinning for over ten minutes, far longer than anyone else can normally spin without falling to the ground. Watching Leon spinning is rather like watching a ‘Whirling Dervish’ moving into a trance. In the midst of his spinning like a planet, Leon seems to find stillness. No-one can reach him there; not even his parents’ voices reach him.
This Spring, Leon has come to visit me on several days when the weather has been fine and we have spent time in the garden. Compared to his home, I don’t have a lot of the toys and gadgets that he likes to play with, but in my garden he is content to help me water plants, sweep up leaves, to feel the wind on his face and watch the clouds float by. Here too is a place of stillness for him. He asks to come here and be calm.
I sometimes wonder how a child like Leon might come to know that he is a unique and beloved part of God’s creation. He is unlikely to ever understand or respond to Scripture. If Leon was ever able to be amongst people at mass he would probably scream or spin, or maybe, just maybe, something else would happen. Maybe he would feel the loving flame of the Spirit reaching into his place of stillness, taking his hand and inviting him to dance.
Please pray for the many children and adults who live in the strange world of autism and for their families too. I believe, in my recent encounters with Leon, I have witnessed a kind of Pentecost, where the Holy Spirit moves amongst those of us who love him and care for him and sets our hearts on fire.
Maggie Jackson
