Of Miracles...

Miracles can happen. That is what the world thinks. That is what people who fight every day believe in. That is what one lives for when all else is lost. A miracle is hard to define. It is not an illusion or a magic trick or a party gimmick. It is perchance to experience something or witness something that is so unexpected and so out of the ordinary that logic pales and the intellect takes a back seat to faith. That is one definition of miracles. The other definition is, simply, hard work. If you do something with dedication day after day after day with no thought other than to solve that one problem or better that one life or reach that one goal against all odds and against what experts, public opinion or even known science tell you, you will get somewhere. It may not be where you want to get. It may not even be a complete solution. But the path to attempting to reach the goal will itself transform the problem in your mind from insurmountable to acceptable and finally the miracle will happen.

It is not easy to hold on to faith when every day is either difficult or holds the promise of being difficult. Not everyone has to deal with such problems of course but in my experience a miracle needs a big enough problem in the first place.  I read about people who do unbelievable things in conditions so adverse it will make you wonder at their strength and ability. I read about parents who leave no stone unturned, who squeeze out every ounce of creativity and put their lives on hold for all time so that they can help their children in the way they needed to be helped. One recent story from the NYT about parents who developed a language and social toolkit out of Disney movies for their autistic son moved me immensely.

Owen sounded like Appu in that he was fine till he was three and a half years old and suddenly began to regress. No one knows why. Autism as a diagnosis never answers the question of ‘why’ – it only labels. Parents keep blaming themselves for years not knowing what they did wrong to have their children become autistic. Was it the vaccinations that they dutifully got their kids to take like any other responsible parent? Was it genetics? Was it environmental pollution? Was it processed baby food? Who knew?

Owen was hooked on to Disney movies in a way that made it possible for his parents to comprehend that it was the single most powerful tool they could ever get to teach him how to be part of this world. They enacted the tales. They talked to him endlessly about what each character might have meant when he said something or what motivated him or her to act in a certain way. The movies gave Owen cues on emotional behaviour and on how to deal with problems in the real world. He was using them as a way to make sense of the world around him. He was learning to talk with them. He was not only drawing them in his sketch books but also breathing life into those characters. And the whole family as well as the support staff of psychiatrist, teacher, therapist and counsellor went along with it. Owen is a really well adjusted young man now who has even found love. For me that is a miracle. I too live in the hope that what we do every single day will lead to my son also being gifted with a miracle when the time is right.