Satan stink!

                                             Max on Christmas Eve.

Max wanted me to take him to a bird shop to see the birds last Saturday. When we arrived the shop had a sign stating they had closed. A hundred questions came out of Max of why did they close down. Why aren't they open? I tried to explain to him that the economy is not good and so stores and places are going out of business.

I was shocked when that evening during dinner prayer Max spoke up interrupting the person giving the prayer. He said, Excuse me, please bless the economy." Since that prayer each time we have prayer Max prayers for the economy to get better.

On Sunday after church Max and I were sitting at the table eating my homemade salsa and corn chips. I loved moments like this where we were together and I especially liked it when he would bring up a subject on something I had not thought about. Max taps my arm.

"You know what is bad about Satan Mom?"

"What is bad about Satan?"

Max swallows his chip before he speaks. "What is bad about Satan is his breath stinks and he is really rude and impolite and he talks garbage."

I got up to get a dishcloth to  wipe up the salsa on the table that Max had dropped. When I pulled out the chair to sit down I gave max a puzzled look. "Really?"

Max dipped a chip into the salsa bowl. "He says bad words and makes me think bad things about people."

I pondered a few seconds before I spoke. " Satan doesn't want anyone to be happy. He wants us to do things that are wrong and mean."

Max got up and looked at me before he went to get a cup of water. "I don't like Satan even if he is Jesus' brother."

Max is something else. My grandfather often told me, "Max is going to be a joy years down the road. He will brighten your days with wonderful thoughts." 
You know, my grandfather was right he is a blessing and joy. I will never forget when I took Max over to meet Grandpa. He was unable to stay still and wouldn't slow down enough for me to enjoy visiting with Grandpa. Grandpa could tell I was frustrated and wanted a break. So he wrote me a note days later after our visit and express how years later I would see the reward of Max's sweet spirit.

Max loves to dance.

Didn't realize how much Max loved to dance until New Years Eve night.  I let him dress in whatever he wanted as long as it was warm enough to wear to his cousin's reception in Prescott.  I thought I would post a couple of pictures of him dancing at the reception. 
I plan on video taping him acting out his favorite part of the Home Alone for you to see.  He loves Macaulay Culkin and dreams of being a movie star like him someday.  Max has watched Home Alone about 50 times in the past month.  He keeps asking me if you have to be a certain age to be a movie star. 

                                              Max sleeping on the drive up.

                                         Max letting me take a picture of him.

                             Some of Max's cousin's children asking him to dance.

                                       Max dancing with his cousin's daughter.

                                                Max dancing the night way.


I think Max did well at picking out his outfit for the reception. Don't you think so? On the way up to Prescott I rode in the back with Max while my oldest son drove.  Max fell asleep on the drive up.  I guess it's a good thing, because it gave him energy to dance all night long. Max is the youngest grandchild of 17 on his dad's side of the family.  Most of Max's cousins are married with children even older than him.  Some of Max's cousins children kept following him around at the dance and he loved it.  He danced with his aunt's also.  He was only able to squeeze one dance in with me. 

I had a allergy attack.

I had a red face with a nose full of bogers that was all yeseerday.

An experience Max will never forget.

Max had a horrifying reaction to his allergy injection today. He got his shots around 11:30 and by one his face was exceedingly red with a severe rash. He was coughing and trying to clear his throat.  His nose seemed stuffed up and he acted a little edgy. I called the doctor and was told to give him two teaspoons of Benadryl and then come immediately to the doctors. 

We arrived there around 1:30 and they rushed him back to a room.  Quickly the doctor checked his blood pressure, listened to his lungs. When the doctor asked Max if he could breath he looked into her eyes without a response. I spoke without thinking.  “You know Max has autism.” I looked at Max and asked him if he could breathe out of his nose.  He spoke with his hoarse voice.  “No I can’t.”

She gazed into Max’s eyes, “Max I need to give you an injection of epinephrine right away to counter act the injection you got earlier.  I told Max I would hold his hand while they give him a shot.  He squeezed my hand tight as if he was holding on to dear life and they gently poked a needle in his thigh. Within five minutes the redness in his face began to fade and his breathing got better. 

The doctor told me Max had Anaphylaxis. It’s when the throat swells and becomes very hoarse or whispered voice, or coarse sounds when the person is breathing in air.  Max had a couple of those symptoms.  He went into anaphylactic shock.  I felt hopeless watching him try to take a breath.

Today I could have lost Max.  I’m appreciative for the wonderful doctor and nurse who helped him recover from this horrible experience.  I’m thankful to my daughter and daughter in law who noticed his red face and reaction to the shot.  Max had been down in the basement playing on the computer and came up for a few minutes to see his nephew.  I had been cooking in the kitchen and would have never noticed his face without them telling me. Tonight I will not sleep.  My thoughts will be on dear sweet Max.  I am sure I will travel up the stairs a billion times to check on him. I'm blessed that he is here so I can make that journey up the stairs to see him resting in his bed.  To have lost him would have been like someone swiftly ripping my heart out.  We love you Max.  We love your sweetness, love and compassion for everyone. 

Oh, Max prayed last week for dinner and blessed those that made the bagel bites, that they would be safe and happy. Last week I asked Max to take some presents I had wrapped upstairs.  As he picked up each gift and carried in out of my room he said, “Mom God will bless you for buying me presents.”

Twice in the past couple of weeks he has been asking me random questions some are harder for me to answer and some have been surprising.  He asked me who my first boyfriend was, what his name was and how old is he.  He asked me if he has any brothers or sisters and do I talk with him anymore.  I told him he doesn’t like me and that I haven’t spoken to him almost thirty years.  He looked into my eyes with a firm smile.  “I think you need to pray and ask God to make you friends again.” 

The sweet same question he asked often is “What does blessing mean?”   

Another of Max playing his viola.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cnk9CcsY8II&feature=youtu.be

Max playing his viola in school concert.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGwaKf2m_Bs&feature=share

A heart felt gift.

I was taken back when I saw Christmas wrapping paper rolled out on my bed.  A large piece had been unevenly cut out.  I ran down the stairs and asked those who were seated around the kitchen table. “Did anyone wrap a gift today?”  Those that had swallowed their food answer quickly.  “No.”  I dropped the question and search in the cabinet for a pot to make orange chicken (Max’s favorite). 

Within seconds after I entered Max’s bedroom after cleaning the kitchen, I discovered on his brown desk a wrapped gift.  I picked it up and observed the torn piece of Christmas wrapping paper with Max’s hand writing plastered down with scotch tape, to Alex from Max.   I glanced down at Max seated on his bedroom floor playing with Lego’s.  “Max what did you wrap for Alex?”  Max jump up and grabbed the gift.  “Mom, that’s one of my walkie— talkies for Alex.  I want him to have it, so we can talk to each other after we move away.”  My heart softened after I realize Max is beginning to make friends.  Alex is one of his classmates that lives down the street and has been in Max’s self—contained autistic class since kindergarten.   I tip—toed over to Max’s bed trying not to step on his Lego’s.  I sat on the edge of his bed and prayed for a way to explain that his walkie—talkies only work a mile away from each other.   His eyebrows drooped and his lips shriveled as he looked into my eyes.  I’m sure to ask, why not.  He placed the gift on the corner of the desk and acted as thought he understood.  I sensed he didn’t.