Barnes & Noble & Autism

(this is a late post from earlier in May)

I just met a man at Barnes & Noble. He was in his early sixties, wearing his best business attire, and had his hands full of tax forms. The conversation started as he began to sit at the table next to me and said "I'm coming to sit over here, I can't stand sitting over there...that guy is nuts! See him?"

He pointed to the very same boy that I was admiring just moments before he sat down next to me. This boy, probably no older than me, had been alternating between sitting calmly in his chair, and then having sudden outbursts in which he stood up, walked on his tip-toes in circles, and flapped his hands close to his face. Of course I can't say for sure, but it's very safe to say that he had autism. I was just sitting down to read a book written by a girl with autism, so I was even more delighted to have a boy with autism in my presence as I read the book.

I knew exactly who this man was talking about before he even pointed. However, knowing that not everyone is aware of disabilities and characteristics of people who have them, I wanted to be careful with my response. I casually responded, "Oh that boy? With the yellow shirt?" to which the man responded "Yes! He's crazy! I can't get any of my work done. He's absolutely nuts."

This is where Jesus took over. I can't even tell you all that was said in this delightful 30 minute conversation.

I explained to him that this boy had autism, and those atypical movements were his way of "stimming", which meant that was the way he was processing all the stimuli in the environment (people, music, sounds, lights, etc.) I then began to explain that everyone has these stimming behaviors, like kicking your foot when your legs are crossed, or biting your nails. I noticed he was tapping his pen very quickly on the table. I said, "Look! That pen tapping you're doing right now? That's stimming." He was astounded.

Questions began flying left and right, not even just about autism, but disabilities all over the board. I was finally putting all my countless hours in college classrooms and diagnoses trainings at Camp Barnabas to use. I am by no means an expert, but it blew my mind that in his sixty something years of life, he had not once been exposed to someone who explained different disabilities and their varying characteristics. Even more incredible was that this guy told me he had a son with a learning disability, one who his teachers said wouldn't succeed past high school, but now has a college degree, a wife, and three children. I told him how wonderful of a father he must have been to fight for his son's future, contrary to what the teachers said. I told him that stories like that are the truth and beauty of the individuality of each person, and ultimately, common characteristics of a disability don't define who a person is.

The Lord spoke in the entirety of that thirty minutes, shedding light onto this man's perception of people with disabilities. He told me he had never thought about it in the way I explained it to him, and that he was going to try to not be quick to judge others. I let him know he shouldn't feel bad about it, and told him how great it was talking to him. It was a mutually beneficial conversation. I learned things from him, he learned things from me (Jesus), and we fully sought to understand where the both of us were coming from. He thanked me for talking to him, wished me the best of luck, and that was it.

I will probably never see or speak to this man again. But that's the beauty of embracing every opportunity the Lord hands you. This was such a sweet chance to be an advocating voice for someone who couldn't speak up for himself, and I have no doubt about the impact the Lord will make on others through that man's experience.

Let this encourage you to fearlessly jump into conversations and situations the Lord brings you to. These things happen EVERY DAY. May we run into these situations with His eyes, His voice, His heart...He desires to use us like this!