The Autism Gospel – Flapping Like God

Another trip to the Lawrenceville Food Co-Op today. Noah was up late so I was afraid I’d have trouble blasting him out of bed, but he sprang right to life because, in his words: “Okay Mom, let’s put a wiggle in it – we can’t be late for the food delivery.” (I’m learning that I dearly hate hearing my voice echoed in his. I must choose my phrases more wisely…)

I don’t know how much baby food and toilet paper we delivered, but it filled my mini-van to the brim. So much so that Noah rode with Mr. Mike in his truck because there was no place for him to sit in the van. When we arrived at the co-op, Noah began to work himself into a frenzy. As he ran, he flapped his way across the parking lot and I cringed. Honestly, I confess that the hand flapping is one of the behaviors I could do without. Try as I might, I just can’t find a therapeutic substitute. He generally does it only when he is keyed up. When he gets excited about something or over-stimulated by lights or noise, it runs down his arms and they start flapping in rhythm. I admit that there are times when I see this small sign of our neuro-diversity and become disheartened. I can vividly remember feeling beaten black and blue from the inside out during pregnancy due to, what I described to everyone as my baby “flapping like a bird”. (See #3 under the criterion listed below)

DSM-IV Autism Criteria

Section C: restricted repetitive and stereotyped patterns of behavior, interests and activities, as manifested by at least two of the following:

1. encompassing preoccupation with one or more stereotyped and restricted patterns of interest that is abnormal either in intensity or focus

2. apparently inflexible adherence to specific, nonfunctional routines or rituals

3. stereotyped and repetitive motor mannerisms (e.g hand or finger flapping or twisting, or complex whole-body movements)

4. persistent preoccupation with parts of objects

I even joked that everyone was going to be surprised when he was born with wings like a bat. In uterus, he responded this way mainly to music. Piano and organ at church or Billy Joel in the grocery store – it never failed. Directing the children’s musical 9 months pregnant was downright painful, but the kids liked watching my shirt move during the more lively songs. Flapping has always been a part of who we are. But I’d hoped by the time he was ten years old, he’d stop out of fear of how others might perceive him. But that’s not the way it works. Flapping for him is as part of his behavioral pattern as sweating when you are nervous or hot – it’s not something he can control. I’ve tried just to accept it as a part of who he is, but no mother wants to see people stare across a room, store or parking lot at her son who is having a neurological overload he can’t help.

But the truth is, if Noah ever flaps his way toward you consider it a huge compliment. It means he is delighted to see you. Most of us have found ways to restrain our elation into socially accepted mannerisms. We might clasp our hands or smile. Your eyes brim with tears of joy or you might even give a spontaneous hug. But not us – we flap and “ooo-ooooo-ooo”. I like to say “we flap and ‘ooo-ooo’ and hang around with those that do”. There is just no containing Noah’s joy. So it runs down his arms in flaps and off his tongue in “ooo-ooo”s. I know it makes people uncomfortable, but if they knew what a tribute it was to his love for them, I think they’d see it differently.

So between each trip from the loading dock back to the van for another load, he flew with flaps and “ooo-ooo”s. Armload after armload, back and forth, he carried bag after bag. Then I heard him mumbling as he carried certain distinct packages “man with green shirt brought this” or “lady in red sweater gave this”. It was then that I realized that Noah wasn’t only seeing the small step of delivering the food – Noah sees the entire project from beginning to end. In his mind, he could see each member of the church as they entered North River with their contribution. Then he pictured it in the pile. From there Noah saw it going in the van and then onto the loading dock. Afterward, Noah could already see it pulled from a shelf into the bag of a family. It took me all day to process this simple, yet profound point. According to part 4 of section C, Noah shouldn’t really be focused on the whole, but rather a small part of this project. There is no provision within his diagnosis for Noah to cognitively encompass the entire process of the mission – from grocery store to the arms of those in desperate need. But not only does Noah seem to visualize the entire process at one time, he also seems to connect the specific people involved at various steps of the way.

Case in point, after we were through unloading he asked Mr. Mike to take him to see Linda, the resident saint-in-charge of this ministry. He had to put the last piece in place. As we wound our way through the church that houses the co-op, I saw Noah glance at the weary faces seated in pews with their children, waiting to be called for an opportunity to obtain food for their families. Immediately, his hands began rapidly flapping. It was then that I realized – oh, he is seeing the end now! Mike got Linda’s attention and Noah extended a flapping hand in her direction. Her face broke into a smile and, God bless her, she extended a flapping hand back in his direction. Linda also, standing in the face of the end result of grace, needed to flap in response. Images began pouring into my mind: the Father of the Prodigal running wildly down the road toward his wayward son; Angels in heaven winging ecstatically at the confession of a lost soul; and maybe even God himself wild with enthusiasm and elated with his Beloved Son descending as a dove at Jesus’ baptism. All flapping, all enraptured with the end result of grace. Maybe God flaps for us when we can see the whole picture and become lost in him alone, basking in his grace.

In the car I asked Noah how he enjoyed his morning. His response was typically profound. He said: It makes me feel like Christmas inside. I couldn’t resist and asked how so. This was Noah’s answer:

On Christmas God gave Jesus. Food is the Jesus we can give. I think being like God is the Spirit of Christmas Mom. We can be like God and it feels like Christmas inside.

I sense Noah feels a part of a larger redemptive grace. He knows he can’t give these people a Messiah – he can’t send them a Jesus. But “the Jesus we can give” is food. Therefore, just as God gave and made provision for mankind, Noah feels he can mirror that behavior in giving. In this way, Noah feels he is being like God. He feels Christmas inside.

And being like God makes him flap. And suddenly, that is just fine with me.