Seeing the light

It's been a while since the last posting. I've been locked away in my laboratory feverishly typing words into a small electronic box for a "sermon" to read before the masses. Or my mom. A nice little ditty filled with nuggets of wisdom regarding bowling, labels and Elvis Presley. Deep stuff boy! Amen.

Anyhoo, I guess I'm in a spiritual frame of mind today because I just had a genuine religious experience. I attend the local Unitarian Universalist Church, and if you know anything about the UU's, we tend to shun "religious experiences." In fact we don't really like religion at all and we still go to church every Sunday. It makes perfect sense to us!

I'm relatively new to these "religious experiences" and I didn't know quite how to react. I didn't know if I should throw my hands up in the air and shout "Hallelujah!," or surrender to a fainting swoon, or run around the building and light my hair on fire. I'm new at this remember.

The funny thing is my experience didn't happen anywhere near a church. There were no crosses on the walls and no choir singing toward the heavens. There was no minister present and the only "good books" available were targeted specifically for grade-schoolers. My genuine religious experience actually took place at the doctor's office. Who knew?

I'll set the scene -- Michael and I are sitting side-by-side in your typical doctor's office. White walls, a large "super-chair" that rises to the ceiling and probably picks up satellite television, and oversized posters of various muscles and organs within the human body. A virtual epicenter of spiritual energy!

The doctor is sitting beside us, studiously jotting down notes as I relay every last detail of the "nut incident" to her. If you've read this blog, you know what I'm talking about. Newcomers should just know that April and I decided to feed Michael nuts a couple of weeks ago. We did this knowing full well that Michael is allergic to nearly every food on Planet Earth. In our defense, he had never actually tried nuts before! As you might guess, the result wasn't pretty. The ensuing screaming, vomiting and near fainting earned us a trip to the minor emergency center and took about five years off our lives.

When I finished my monologue, breathless and begging for forgiveness, the doctor calmly walked over and began examining Michael. There was a painful silence in the room, so naturally I began droning on about how Michael was diagnosed with pervasive developmental disorder and spent the past six months undergoing evaluations to qualify for a special-needs preschool. I'm still not sure why I did this. I guess the "spirit moved me," as they say.

When she finished examining Michael, she looked me straight in the eye and smiled. "He looks great! He looks so healthy! You've done such a great job!"

At that moment I had to fight back tears. A choir of angels began singing and the eternal light of the holy shone directly into the room. At that moment our doctor might as well have been The Virgin Mary herself. Placing the hand of love directly on my soul.

I was speechless.

I have been taking Michael to evaluations for as long as I can remember. There were screaming fits as a baby. Purchasing a helmet to straighten out his oddly-shaped head. An extremely rough bout of the flu resulting in a night of IV treatment. More screaming fits eventually diagnosed as severe food allergies. And finally, diagnosis of pervasive developmental disorder and six months of various evaluations.

Each appointment consisted of meeting with "experts" and pondering the various matters "wrong" with Michael. What needed to be poked at. Prodded. Fixed. I can't remember a single time when one of these "experts" said anything remotely positive about Michael or myself.

Until today.

Our doctor took a moment to see Michael for who he truly is. To see the beaming three-year-old with wavy hair, bright brown eyes and an infectious laugh. She didn't see problems. She saw beauty. And she paid a complement to the tired, confused, and overwhelmed parent spending every waking moment trying his best not to screw everything up.

I want to praise this doctor from the bottom of my heart. For showing me anew the beautiful boy I am raising. For pulling away from the negative and shining light on the positive. It may have been an innocent comment in her eyes, but it resonated with a certain overwhelmed Dad seeking reassurance.

I should have said these things earlier today in the examining room. Said them in person. But like most people caught in the throws of a religious experience, I was too overwhelmed for speeches. I simply responded with the most spiritual, loving phrase I could think of.

"Thank you."

Be good kiddies.

- Dave