Hope Chest Keepsakes

Realization

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 07:52:28 EST

Something occurred to me today, and is settling in nicely with my outlook: God has a much stronger grip on my son that autism does. I am so thankful for God's grace. Here are some of the ways I have seen God's amazing grace in my son in the last couple of months:

1 - My son expressed on his AAC device, completely unprompted, "I want to go to ToysRus." AWESOME! I laughed and laughed, thinking to myself, "Now THAT is as NORMAL as it gets for a 7 year-old boy! That is a reflection of Nathan, NOT autism." It was a sweet, sweet reminder to me that Nathan is "Nathan", not "autism walking". We try so hard to support him and bridge any gaps, that we sometimes take for granted all that he is and is NOT...and all the wonderful things about him,t him that are not focused on his autism...and there he was, front and center....my 7 year old son, "Nathan".

2 - A few days later, Nathan again used his device, but this time to invite me to play on the computer with him. He used proper grammatic structure, punctuation, and a huge smile!

3 - He requested independently the iPad, and later the iPOD, and even later the "BLACK iphone, NOT the PURPLE one". WOW! Apple would be SO PROUD!!!

4 - He actually SAID with his own voice, "my mommy". I have proceeded to obsessively replay that moment in my head again, and again, and again.....I can't stop just enjoying that memory! It was fantastic!

5 - Nathan has decided to call his sister something he can actually say verbally - "Ba-ba", and his father, "Papa". They are both grinning ear to ear these days over it!

6 - At school, my son actually said "bye-bye" in a natural voice. It was not high-pitched and did not have an ackward melody to his voice. It was a voice of a typical little boy. Shocking!

7 - He has had pockets of real connection where he enganged deeply with me in activities, like helping in the kitchen. He giggled when I let hm help me put food onto his plate and let him carry the plate to the table. I am learning to let go more and to hold back on anticipating his needs to much. It's a process, but I am trying and I am learning. His smile and giggles reinforce the reality that this is good for him...and me!

There is so much to be thankful for, even more than I can possibly type here. Still, I just know that God's grip is firm on him, and on me. Praise God!

The Healer

Mon, 27 Jun 2011 00:20:00 EST

Below is the story of a dream I recently had about The Great Physician, my Lord, Jesus Christ.

It was a bright, sunny spring day in Washington, DC. I lived with my husband and two children in a 3rd floor condo on 17th St., NW where we enjoyed having historical landmarks for neighbors and dwelled among the fantastic cherry blossoms that graced the landscape that time of year. The morning started off like most Tuesday mornings at our house. My husband was at work, while my daughter was at school in the 1st grade. My son, Nathan, was home with me, awaiting the speech therapy appointment we had for him each Tuesday morning at 11 o’clock. The events that unfolded on that, otherwise, typical day would change the course of my family’s life forever.

“Honk! Honk! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Horns, blasted and sirens sounded. I hurriedly slid open the glass door that led out onto our balcony which overlooked the city street. With all the commotion and loud noise, my mind raced back to that dreadful day…September 11, 2001, when I was a contractor working down the street from the Pentagon. I could almost smell the smoke of the plane all over again. I looked up the block and down it once more. The sounds were getting louder and louder. I heard a crowd of voices, but could not tell where they were coming from.

“Thump! Thump! Thump”!

I thought I could feel the ground rumble, just like I did back on 9/11. Fear pierced my veins as I gazed toward the street corner where the loudest sounds were flooding the air. Suddenly, I saw it: A HUGE mass of people pouring into the block, in between the buildings and onto the street. It looked like the center of an hourglass. As the mass made its way down 17th Street, I thought we were under siege! I screamed to Nathan, “Go get your shoes on, quickly! We have to go! Now, Nathan, right now!” I ran to the hallway closet and grabbed the umbrella stroller. Though Nathan had long outgrown it, I knew we would need to move fast, and with his autism, he may not follow my commands as quickly as needed. I strapped him in and ran quickly back to the balcony to see where the mob was headed. That is when I saw him. There was a strange nucleus right in the center of the swarming crowd; a single person who was walking calmly amongst the chaos, right down the center of my street! As my eyes focused on him, I recognized him – Sun kissed face, straight dark hair tucked behind his ears, short goatee, dark, kind eyes. It was Jesus. It was Jesus. It was Jesus!

Without another thought, I rushed out the door, pushing Nathan in the stroller, down the hall to the elevator. I pushed the button countless times, yelling, “Come on elevator! Come on!” Then I whispered to Nathan, “Jesus is here! Baby, He’s here!” The moment the doors opened, we ran in and pressed, pressed the ground floor button. The ride down seemed eternal, but no sooner had the doors opened that we pushed our way out and fell into the tail-end of the mass following Jesus. They seemed to be headed towards the Washington Monument! The crowd was thick, maybe even 3 city blocks or more deep. Nathan sat, covering his ears, with his Nintendo DS sounding from his lap as we pushed our way through, trying to run, trying to see, and trying to touch Jesus. As we pressed on, I pulled out my iPhone and opened my “Autism Mom Distro” which was linked to Twitter and Facebook. I texted a broadcast message to all the autism mothers groups for which I belonged,

“Jesus is here! He is in DC, making His way down 17th Street. He has crossed Constitution Ave. and is headed for The Mall! Come! Bring your children with autism! Come now!!!!”

In this dream, I could see myself from a bird’s eye view, pushing through the crowd while the sounds of front doors were opening all over. Moms were coming out of their homes in the surrounding blocks, out in the suburbs, in the outlying towns, all over the state, all over the country, and finally, all over the world.

“Click. Click. Click.”

The sound of the doors opening played in my ears like a broken record. I could see them, like a live satellite image of the world! First, the bird’s eye view of the DC Metro area. Then, like a Google Map image, I could see the state, the country, and so on. I could see them coming, all of them! It was so surreal! Moms were making their way towards Jesus with their autism-afflicted children in arms. Next, I dialed my husband at work, despite being smack in the center of the mass. People were nearly crushing my arms as I held the stroller tightly with both hands and balanced the phone on my shoulder. As soon as he picked up the line, I screamed,

“He’s here! Come quickly and meet me on the lawn of The Mall! Bring "Baby Girl!”

“Who’s there, Vicki?” my husband asked, sounding alarmed.

“It’s Jesus!” I screamed with my voice shaking. He knew I was not joking and simply said,

“I’m on my way.”

I could see on opening in the crowd ahead of me. It seemed as though the mass had stopped moving forward and was somehow fanning out on both sides. I tried to jump up and down to see if I could catch a glimpse of where Jesus was in all of this chaos, and I did see Him, but only for split second. Up ahead was the reflecting pool, and I thought I saw Jesus baptizing someone! I carefully stood up on the rear wheels of my son’s stroller, balancing and trying to see Him more clearly. The crowd fell silent. There He was, baptizing a girl in the name of His Father. When He brought the teenage girl out of the water, I recognized her face. It was the young lady I saw many evenings on my way home from work, standing on the corner of 14th Street, waiting for a buyer. I often wondered who she was and how she ended up selling her young body that way. I was overcome with hope and joy for her having been saved by God’s grace! I pressed forward with Nathan, begging people to let us through, begging their forgiveness as ran over their toes with the wheels of my stroller. Tears streamed down my face as my arms grew weary and weak from pushing, but I couldn’t stop. When the stroller’s front wheels stopped abruptly and jammed against the edge of the concrete walkway surrounding the reflecting pool, I tumbled onto the concrete surface, barely keeping a grasp on the handles of my stroller. I gazed across the pool, only to see Jesus leaving the water as if His work was done! I screamed out to Him,

“Father!” and shoved Nathan, seated in his stroller, across the concrete towards Jesus. I fell onto the hard surface, scraping both knees and palms. The stroller thrust forward, and slammed right into the feet of Jesus! Nathan’s hair was blown into his face from the thrust. Jesus smiled at him, and then lifted his chin with his hand. Gently, he blew Nathan’s hair out of his eyes with a soft breath. Nathan turned to me smiling, and said,

“Hi, Mommy!”

I ran to him, embracing him tightly, and kneeling at the feet of my Lord, thanking Him repeatedly for freeing my son from his silence and for healing him of his autism. That’s when I heard another cry coming from the crowd,

“Mommy!”

I turned and saw my husband, who was carrying our daughter in his arms, running towards us. Tears filled his eyes when Nathan called out to him, “Daddy!” and leaped into his arms, hugging him and his sister. Suddenly, Nathan scrambled down and started walking toward the crowd. There at the edge stood a mother, dumbfounded, staring at us with her autistic child in her arms. Nathan took the child’s hand and sweetly said, “Come on. Come with me.” as he led him to Jesus and placed his hand in the hand of our Lord. Jesus knelt down and hugged the little boy, then whispered into his ear,

“Did you know that “Autism” is not really “Autism” anymore? It is “Awe ‘tis Him”. In the Holy name of my Father, be free.”

Then he waved His hand across the crowd, and “autism” was no more. Instead, there was resounding “Awe ‘tis Him!” coming from the crowd as they cheered and sang praises to God in thanksgiving.

In my dream, that Tuesday morning was beginning for us. We lived out a miracle and told everyone we met all about it. More importantly, in my dream, Nathan told everyone about that miraculous day! When I awoke from this incredible dream, I felt as though it was real. After shedding many tears, my mind came to rest on the concept, “Faith is not believing that God can - It is knowing that He will.” Then, the Lord’s peace washed over me.

tags: autism blog, Jesus, The Healer

As seen on The Autism File Global Website - The Story behind The Hope Chest

Thu, 10 Feb 2011 14:47:00 EST

As a parent of a child with autism, can you recall a particular conversation with your child’s therapist, teacher or intervention specialist when it was explained what “pairing” means relative to your child’s learning style? I sure can. One afternoon, after a meeting with my son’s ABA program coordinator, I was thinking about her answer to this basic question: “Why is it that my son is able to complete certain tasks here at the center, yet when presented with those same tasks at home, he is unsuccessful?” Her answer was that he “paired”, or associated, those tasks specifically with being at the center and that he had difficulty generalizing, or demonstrating, his mastery of those skills across various settings. As I pondered on that concept, I asked myself, “What would I want my son, Nathan, to ‘pair’ with ‘Mom’, if anything?” It only took me about a half-second to conclude that, more than anything, I wanted him to pair “Hope” with “Mom”. My non-verbal, 6-year old son with autism is such an inspiration to me that I often say of the two of us, “I am his voice. He is my heart.” It was in that spirit that I provided him a unique visual queue, one of “hope”, for him to pair with “Mom”. I tapped into an old hobby of mine, that of jewelry making, and designed a pendant using the written word “Hope”, (alongside a small puzzle piece dangle), to wear as a means of expressing my endless optimism that he would overcome his autism. I affectionately coined that pendant, “Eternal Hope” and wear it to this very day, as Nathan has come to expect it. Soon after I designed that pendant, I made others to share as gifts for friends who were also mothers of children with autism. Word spread in my local autism community about my hope-inspired pendant, and I soon found myself inundated with requests for more. That was the beginning of The Hope Chest Keepsake Jewelry, my labor of love for the autism community.

Article featured in Autism Health and Wellness Magazine on The Hope Chest

Thu, 30 Dec 2010 00:15:00 EST

Sunday, August 29, 2010 Nathan’s Voice Seated in her workshop, Vicki Sotack completes the finishing touches on a special pendant designed for a mother of twins with autism. Keeping two pair of needle nose pliers steady, one in each hand, she closes the final jump ring and exclaims, “There! It’s begun!”. “Didn’t she just finish the piece?” one might wonder. She did, however, when Vicki nears completion of one of her keepsakes, she finishes the piece thinking, or saying aloud, “It’s begun.” In her mind, what has “begun” is the constant expression of support one projects for a loved one when they put on sterling silver awareness jewelry designed by The Hope Chest Keepsake Jewelry, (Vicki’s “labor of love” for the autism community). As a parent herself of a young child with autism, Vicki had an incredible desire to express HOPE for her own afflicted child in a way that he was certain to understand. Her young son, Nathan, incurred what she believes to have been a vaccine injury and lost his ability to speak entirely. Amazingly, he has proven himself exceptionally bright and quite linguistically inclined, despite having developed autism, immune issues, and a complex seizure disorder. Although Nathan is non-verbal, he has an incredible ability to read, and possibly in more than one language. With this unique ability in mind, she came up with an idea! An Evolving Idea With jewelry making as a favorite hobby, Vicki designed an inspirational necklace which included the written word “HOPE” in the center, to signify the ongoing commitment she has to her afflicted child. She thought that a constant visual reminder would reinforce the special message she wished to relay to her son - that she would never give up on him and that she had endless optimism that recovery from autism was possible. Soon, she found herself using the written word in many of her pendant designs to express messages of LOVE, FAITH, or HOPE to her son. Over the course of about a year, Vicki channeled her emotions over the trials and triumphs experienced in confronting Nathan’s autism into her creative outlet of jewelry making. After sharing some of her creations with other “ASD moms”, and at their urging, The Hope Chest Keepsake Jewelry was born. Idea into Action Today, Vicki designs what she affectionately coins “Journey Necklaces” in support of those touched by autism, (as well as other hope-inspired collections found on her website at www.hopechestkeepsakes.com). Her “Autism Journey” collection is her largest line and was clearly inspired by her son, Nathan. To further honor him, she often says, “I am his voice. He is my heart.” It is obvious to all whom know her that she truly feels that way, and her dedication to him, and to the autism entire community, is apparent in the efforts she makes on their behalf. In Her Own Words… One of the most important things I have learned from my son on our journey through autism is that his autism, though affirmatively present, does not dominate the very core itself of his being. His incredible personality and a wonderful heart define him much more than the affect autism has on “who he is”. Likewise, his autism is not solely the apparent, undeniable, or permanently crippling disability once thought. Instead, it is a complex and unique “shell” of sorts…an oftentimes-puzzling outer layer. Once peeled away, an incredible brilliance shines through…and I am left standing in awe. Certainly, autism is treatable, and Nathan is living proof of it. His progress toward healing demonstrates that the efforts invested to help him have not been in vain and that overcoming autism is not only a dream, but is his very agenda. I am confident that God has an incredible plan for our little boy, and for all of those whom accompany our family on this challenging journey. We are committed to the belief that, “Through Him, ALL things are possible”…even recovery. It is because of that belief that we will NEVER give up. Our family presses on, hand-in-hand with Nathan through the many corridors of autism and we are not alone. Instead, we have the company of a handful of amazingly committed doctors and research scientists, many incredibly dedicated teachers and therapists, and literally countless undefeatable parents of children with autism, just like me. There is a familiar saying that states, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Today, like many parents of children with autism, I have on my running shoes. HOPE, I promise you, is forever present. May God bless each individual with autism, and all of those who love and care for them. -Vicki K. Sotack, “Nathan’s Voice” Visit us online at www.hopechestkeepsakes.com and begin your personal expression of HOPE or “fan us” on Face Book at www.facebook.com/hopechestkeepsake for all relative “happenings”. Posted by Autism Health and Wellness at 1:58 AM

tags: article on The Hope Chest Keepsake Jewelry

The Promise

Sat, 27 Nov 2010 00:35:00 EST

My son, Nathan, was born on "Good Friday", 2004. It was a good day in so many ways. He was born via scheduled C-section and was absolutely beautiful. Though I was a little "ify" about nursing, he seemed forever hungry and I soon learned that nursing was a wonderful time of bonding between us. Everything was going so very well, until the night he was given the Hep B shot. The next morning, Nathan could not latch properly. He gasped and choked and spit. It was terrible. He cried and cried, and so did I. After too many appointments with the "lactation consultants", feeding was a struggle, at best. During the next 7 weeks, Nathan and I saw his pediatrician countless times. He claimed that he had an "immature valve at the top of the stomach", thus allowing for "reflux". He put him on one medicine after another, and tried to weigh his liquids down with rice, thinking it would stay in his stomach. Instead, the thick fluids nearly suffocated my baby. Week 7 yielded 3 visits to the doctor's office - Monday, Wednesday, and the terrible Friday that I took him in running and screaming, "My baby can't breathe! Somebody help him!!!" That particular day, the "brilliant" doctor we had been seeing had taken a vacation day and a sub was standing in for him. She quickly listened to his lungs and called for an ambulance. My baby had aspirated and had pneumonia. After being given antibiotics and steroids in the hospital, and after several nebulizer treatments, we were sent home with the instruction to keep his head elevated while sleeping, so I sat all night long for weeks on end, holding my newborn in the rocker. One particular night, I fell asleep in the rocker in my son’s room, and dreamt that I was asleep in that very rocker, holding Nathan. In my dream, I awoke and found myself sitting in the dim-lit room, with a familiar friend sitting in the corner, on the chair opposite me. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I recognized his face immediately. It was my friend, Jesus. He was speaking to me in a soft, low voice. I whimpered, “I am afraid my baby is going to die.” Jesus calmly replied, “No, Vicki. He is going to be just fine. In fact, he will grow up to be a man with strong convictions - healthy and strong, someone you will be especially proud of.” I said to Jesus in a bit of a “testy” tone, “Even if he is going to be okay, how I am supposed to raise him? I don’t even know what I am doing! How can I raise him to be a good man???” Jesus said sweetly, “You aren’t going to. I am." With that, I stood up and walked over to sit at His feet and lay my head on His knee, holding my sleeping baby close to my heart. Then, I fell back asleep. Later, when I woke up from my dream, I had a sense of peace inside like I had never felt before…until, the fateful day Nathan was given another round of vaccines, and he slipped, slipped, slipped…right out of my arms and right into “autism”. Though Nathan’s regression appeared to be a sudden onset, the slipping seemed to last for a whole year. My fat, healthy, 20 lbs-at-6-months baby went from the healthy end of the growth chart to “failure to thrive” in 12 months. The grief of watching him lose skills was more than I could bear and my heart sank inside my chest as I cried and cried in desperation. So very many times, I cried out to God, “You PROMISED! You PROMISED me that he would be okay!” To this day, I still have my moments, attempting to hold God’s feet to the fire, as if all my anxiety, strength, fear, determination, could even register on His scale as even the most remote threat. 4+ years have passed since Nathan was diagnosed. 5 years since the trigger of regression. He has come sooooo very far, but he is still very affected by autism. He wants desperately to speak, but cannot…yet. He understands language so well, but cannot organize his mouth to form the words flowing inside his head. At age 6, he is so very aware of his disability, and it is getting more obvious to him by the minute. In fact, in the last two weeks, he has had more tantrums than he has in his entire life to date, and I am crushed, not knowing how to help him. Tonight, I begged God to take my voice and to trade it for Nathan's. I begged Him to strike me down, if that is what is needed, such that Nathan may speak. I tried to be silent for just 30 minutes when everyone was still awake and maneuvering around the house, just to see if I could do it…You know, to feel what it might be like to be like Nathan, with some strange sense of being under a “gag order”. Of course, I did not get to experience even that short period with any sensory processing issues, no auditory or visual processing conflicts – just simple silence. My eyes welled up every time the thought passed through my mind that “this” is what Nathan goes through 24hrs per day, every single day of his life. I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack. It was dreadful. God, I want my son FREED from this God-forsaken Autism!!!!! I want him to have the liberty that we all enjoy. Please, God. PLEASE. I would do anything, just heal him! In the quiet of this moment, with only the sound of my fingers pecking away at this keyboard, and the occassional sniffles left over from my tears, I meditate on God…and on His promise. Not only the promise He made to me about the son I am already so very proud of, but the promise He has made to us all, “For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, Plans to give you HOPE and a future.” –Jeremiah 29:11 Now, that promise, I am banking on. "Are you listening, Lord? I heard what you said, and I believe You. Give Nathan HOPE and a FUTURE."

tags: blog, autism, young child, mother of child with autism, heartache