I sit here and prepare to write about today's lessons with Levi. I feel a bit slow in my thoughts and actions. Today has been one of the hard days. We made another trip to our local branch library so that my girls could pick up prizes for the summer reading contest. It has become my custom to prepare Levi on the way for the best possible result. Today was no different.
As we walked the less than half mile there, I talked with Levi about our trip. I explained that he musn't run away from me or yell. There was no telling if he was even listening to me. When we arrived, he did not run through the doors squealing with excitement as he's done in the past. So far so good. But it didn't last.
He played a Dora the Explorer kid's computer game and got overly excited while doing so. Inevitably, he made a loud and happy noise. I was sitting about two and a half feet from him, concentrating all of my energies on him. I try so hard to teach him and keep his behavior as appropriate as possible. It's all a process.
At any rate, a librarian or helper to the right of us paused from shelving books and very loudly exclaimed, "Ohhhh NO! We do NOT do that here." I took in her stern face that seemed to be spilling condemnation all over my parenting and felt the stab of pain in my heart. I moved even closer to Levi, just inches away, imploring him with whispers not to be too loud in the library. That kind of constant high alert is so exhausting! I practiced whispering, "Yay!!!," with him whenever he did something special. With all of the speech issues he has, I've got to say that he did a pretty good job imitating me. The problem, I guess, is two-fold: helping him to combat his impulsiveness and helping him remember to act appropriately in each situation.
Levi continued to play his game with frequent reminders from me to keep the noise level down. Once again, another library worker came over and told Levi to keep it down. After getting no response from Levi, the man got his attention (by telling him to look at him) and told him he could not be so loud. He finished up with, "Do you understand?" to which I quietly (and with a pained and rather defeated expression) replied, "No, he doesn't." He gave me a nervous look wrought with discomfort. I could tell that he was wondering if he had messed up somehow. It was awkward. And painful.
The hardest part is that this is an almost every time occurrence whenever I bring Levi. The exercise is good for him and he needs to go to these places to learn how to behave. As trying as these trips are, I find them quite necessary. I haven't explained things to any library workers as of yet, but it's coming to that point. Sadly, I am afraid that they will not treat us any differently even if they do know. Prayerfully that won't be the case. In the meantime, I am trying to bolster my resolve to stick this thing out. It is tempting to just stay locked up at home with Levi in our own little semi-controlled environment and not have to deal with people who don't understand. Lord, help me not to give up hope.
I guess I am just aching for a scrap of compassion from anyone. It does make things easier to bear, but I know that I cannot expect things from fallen people. I try not to harden my heart when I think of how others have rarely been scolded when they've been too noisy. I feel singled out and like the workers are shooting me while I'm already down. I guess I cannot expect them to understand unless they are going through what I am. Sometimes the Lord places just the right person in my path to encourage me on this journey. Today was not one of them. But He is still good.
And I look forward to sharing all of the progress that I know we'll make in this area. One day, I will look back and remember what a struggle it was to do something as simple as take a trip to the library. Those days will be a thing of the past, and I will be able to bask in the triumph, momentarily, before squaring my shoulders and moving on to face the next challenge.
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