Are you a person of “means?” Do you have plenty of funds in your bank account, a lovely home, fancy car? Do you own all of life’s little conveniences, electronic toys and expensive things? Truthfully, I am not a person of means. I do not own many of the things I have just mentioned. I do not have a bank account overflowing with resources. That does not mean I don’t have a good life and live well, as my family is very comfortable in our middle class identity. We have a sweet home in a wonderful suburb north of Chicago, own two great cars that work fine, and have a house full of things that we like. However, many of our things have a certain lived-in quality to them, from the couch that our dog loves to jump and sleep on, the rug that has a slight depression from our special needs son playing on one spot too much, and various dings in the walls. Many of these are things that all families can relate to, whether you have a special needs child or not. Howeverm there are some items we have that carry a certain affection for me. One of these is the living room table.
The table I speak of is large chest-style item that serves the dual purpose of being a functional table and a storage space for some of my son’s toys. It came from a certain retail chain that has products from a variety of cultures around the world, so it has a unique flavor. The table is actually wrapped in bamboo cord, which has been glued or tacked onto it in an eye-catching decorative pattern. As it turns out, the bamboo cord fairly easily comes undone. Several times my wife or I walked in our son pulling on the cord, causing it to break off and leave a long curled piece laying on the floor. Being the hyper-focused individual that I am when it comes to flaws in or damage to our furniture, I quickly get super glue or silicone to tack the cord back down, placing a variety of books on top to keep it in place.
However, the most recent time I glued the bamboo cord was different. My wife—who is hypersensitive to my hypersensitivity over such things—came up to me as I began to obsess, and attempted a needed intervention.
She instantly recognized the state I was in and tried to stop me, asking me repeatedly to, “Step away from The Table,” and “Take a break and a breath,” and “Just leave it alone.” I communicated in my increasingly-frustrated tone, “No, I’m just going to finish it,” and “I’m fine, leave me alone,” and “Just get away from me.” She upped our conversation by saying in the most non-confrontational way possible, “Why don’t you go read your Bible and get grounded?”
Source: Special Needs Parenting- Key Ministry
