A Magical Moment

30 12 2011

I’m back from an almost-perfect Christmas vacation to Idaho with my kids. I should probably be unpacking or cleaning my house.

And yet I blog.

A Magical Moment

Here’s my little redhead on Christmas Eve, trying on the stockings.

The next day, he was a bear. Merry Christmas! If any cousins got within a four-foot radius of him or his toys, he would scream, “Nooooo!” with his hands on his cheeks. (Several days later I took him to the doctor and found out he had a double ear infection, which could have been part of the bearishness.)

Also, he ate a lot of candy and not much food that morning. I tried, but couldn’t even get him to eat toast, which is usually his favorite. Add in his autism and the disruption of his normal routine by being in a different place with different people, and church was pretty much a disaster.

By the time I’d been hit and head-butted and a cause for general distraction amongst the congregation, I was ready to pull the plug. Finis. The hall for the rest of the meeting.

The final musical number began just as he slipped from my grasp once again. I sighed. Do I run after him? This was where I weighed the disruption he was causing in the aisle to the probable disruption he would cause after I grabbed him. The grabbing side was winning when I heard two violins soar above and through the argument my brain was having with itself.

I was going to write, “Now, the violin is not my favorite instrument.” That’d be a true statement. But then I tried to figure out what was, and I didn’t really know. What I do know is that whenever I hear someone playing an instrument with not only skill but with feeling, it’s almost like magic.

This violin duet was like that for me.

I got chills.

I had a hard time breathing.

I started to cry.

It wasn’t until the song was almost over that I remembered I had a child who might be disturbing people in his path. I looked over and saw him stretched out in the aisle six or seven rows ahead. He was on his back, completely still, listening.

When the last notes died away, he brought his hands together several times in silent applause.

 

Magic.

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5 responses

30 12 2011
Monique

I’m sorry it was a rough go. But your story was beautiful.:)

1 01 2012
Mandy

You have a way of living in those moments & recognizing them for what they are. Thanks so much for sharing.

1 01 2012
Kathleen

Thank goodness for beautiful music on Christmas morning. I was struggling feeling the spirit (with my children) until the 9 year old stared playing “What Child is This” on the harp. It was heavenly!
And that pic of him with the stockings on is adorable.

2 01 2012
Anonymous

(whisper clap…whisper clap…whisper clap)

Maniacal laugh…maniacal laugh…maniacal laugh….

Sorry, just had to throw that last little bit in.

Love, El Jefe

2 01 2012
Anonymous

Mamacheetah just reminded me that you did not accompany us to the Muppet Movie, which is where the maniacal laughter comes from. You must see it. Soon.

Love, El Jefe

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