I hate twine. And cotton balls. And burlap. Especially burlap. I hate them with an eternal, white-hot hatred. I have no idea why. I don't believe I was wrapped in burlap as a child, but who knows. The why isn't important. The point is, I cannot tolerate these things.
Last night at VBS (that's Vacation Bible School for you unchurched heathen) I came face to face with my nemesis: TWINE. It all came about innocently enough.
"Can you help with crafts?"
"Sure. Why not?"
All the usual suspects were there: paints, Styrofoam plates, wooden treasure chests, sparkly jewels, pipe cleaners and roughly a zillion children. I was up for the challenge. Until I saw it. My Kryptonite.
The idea was that each child would roll their precious Bible verse into a scroll to place within their treasure chests and then we would help them tie the twine around the scrolls. I stared at the pre-cut pieces of the vile little rope waiting in front of each child. I felt a little green. I tried to joke with my co-workers. I don't do twine, I told them. They chuckled.
Inside I was screaming NOOOOOO!!! You don't get it! I don't DO twine. I CAN'T do twine.
But this was VBS for goodness sake! And I love Jesus, and want these little guys to love him as well one day, so I soldiered on. When a sweet fourth grader handed me her scroll and asked me to please tie her t-t-twine around it, I jumped right in. I smiled sweetly, as VBS workers are required to do, grabbed the scroll and the t-word from her outstretched hand and got to work.
I realize that people often use hyperbole and state that they do not have words for things, but I swear, I cannot describe to you the intense feelings that surged through my body after simply touching this heinous rope-like substance. It would be a bit dramatic to call it torture, but I have to tell you, it was physically painful. My arms turned to goose flesh. My teeth hurt. I could hear the twine touch my skin. I tried. I tried really hard. But in the end, I had to pass the job to a baffled friend and admit defeat. Goosebumps are popping up now just talking about it.
If you are still with me, I do have a point. As the mom of a kid with ASD, (Autism Spectrum Disorder) I often hear of sensory issues. I have often tried to imagine what certain things are like for him. Or sometimes when he is really struggling, I try to take note of what is going on around him. But I have to say, until last night, I sympathized, but I didn't "get it."
I watched as my experienced VBS co-workers tied those wretched pieces of twine around the scrolls like nobodies business. Easy peasy for them. I felt at that moment that God (not audibly, don't stage an intervention. But if you do, I insist on somewhere coastal for my twine rehab) was talking to me through the discomfort. As an adult helper, I was unable to do what was expected of me. Why? Twine. But more specifically, because of my reaction to twine. My sensory issue.
Sensory issue. It just sounds so made up. If you aren't familiar with ASD, it can seem like some kids are just controlling brats who want their own way and their parents are eager to slap a diagnosis on them to make themselves feel better. I have heard that from more people than I care to number.
I started to think about my son and all of his sensory glitches. Food being the most severe. It seems that almost since birth, this child has has a bologna sandwich on a Martin's potato roll for lunch. Sometimes, he asks for his sandwich at odd times, like in the shower. Who wouldn't want a bologna sandwich in the shower, right? Anything goes in our house, I guess,
My sweet boy is as particular and specific about his dislikes as he is his likes. Apples are hated. Applesauce is acceptable. Carrots are unacceptable. Strawberries, grapes, oranges, completely beyond the pale. The lists go on. They are long and rather boring.
Here is the point just in case you were wondering if I would ever come around to mentioning one. Because of ASD, my son feels that same intense feelings in reaction to many things in his everyday life.
Watching him break out into goose flesh of his own after eating a non-preferred food item has given me an enormous amount of empathy. I know how intensely uncomfortable I was for just a few minutes. I wonder what his life must be like. I am always demanding hugs that he doesn't care to give and requiring him to eat foods that he hates. The last time I saw him eat a carrot, his reaction struck me. I could see that it was literally painful for him. He wasn't being a picky brat, he simply could not tolerate a carrot in the same way that I can't tolerate twine.
I feel like my nasty encounter with my old friend twine has been a wake up call for me. A call to patience. What if someone expected me to use twine everyday and I HAD to do it? What would I do? I would meltdown, that's what. I felt like I was in his place. It was uncomfortable, painful, and embarrassing.
The point (FINALLY! ) is this. We hear the term "sensory issues" and think that it is a load of crap. That people simply don't care to feed their kids good food or train them to do A, B or C. With the help of twine (ewwwww) I have learned that true sensory issues are HUGE.
The positive is that I felt like it was God telling me that this is how many things feel for Stephen. Some kids just don't want to eat veggies. And then there are the kids who want their bodies to be healthy but would rather be hit by a truck than eat a carrot.
I pray that the Lord will give wisdom in parenting and discernment to know when our kids are just being themselves. May my old foe, twine, remind me to be sensitive and show me how to relate to my son.
To twine own self be true.
