The Chicken Dance

 

Love never fails. . . .

-- 1 Corinthians 13:8a

 

My good friend Linda Moreland Weinmaster has a little boy, Adam, who has autism. Every day of her life is like a hurricane: humoungus meltdowns, screaming fits, and lots of stares. I admire how she holds it together for Adam and for her two older sons, who are healthy, and her patient husband, former Cornhusker football standout Kerry Weinmaster.

 

With grace and a heaping helping of a humor, this former Omahan, now of Lawrence, Kan., has thrown herself in to her life as the mother of a severely handicapped child.

 

She also helps other families with autistic children, both informally as she meets them, and formally, in her work to establish that thimerosol, a preservative that contains mercury in children's vaccinations, is what has caused the explosion in autism over the past few years.

 

There has been a 700 percent increase in the nation, and a 10,275 percent increase in Nebraska alone. Estimated overall cost: $2 trillion.

 

In Linda's case, the thimerosol was in the shot she received to compensate for her Rh negative blood during pregnancy. She didn't have that shot with her older two boys. Her research indicates that more than 80 percent of autistic children are boys; possibly, estrogen in little girls protects them from developing it. There may be a link between these substances in immunizations, and other conditions that are on the increase, ranging from ADHD to Alzheimer's.

 

Linda appears on radio talk shows. She writes op-eds. She speaks. She lobbies. She shares information with anyone who'll listen.

 

When I first met Adam, he was perched on top of their refrigerator in a Batman costume. He wouldn't look at me. He wouldn't come down. I reached my arms out to him; he didn't acknowledge them. He was speaking rapidly and staring off into space.

 

Here's how Linda describes what it's like to mother an autistic child:

 

"When you hold them, they arch their back. They wriggle to get themselves out of your arms. When you talk to them, they avert their eyes.

 

"When he gets on a schoolbus, I'm waving like crazy, but he doesn't wave back.

 

"If somebody is angry, and coming toward them with hands on hips and a big frown, they don't get it. They neither use gestures nor 'read' gestures."

 

For many years, they could barely go anywhere as a family because of Adam's erratic behavior. She has had to do countless hours of special therapies with Adam, and has had respite helpers for a few hours a week to give her a break.

 

Her husband and two older sons "have given up everything," she said. The two older sons "don't like having friends over because of Adam. They're terribly embarrassed by his actions, but of course, they love him, so it's confusing. The stares when we go out and he tantrums . . . he gets in people's way. He stands too close. He doesn't know things other people know. He says exactly what's on his mind: 'Eww, your breath stinks.' It would almost be easier if he were terribly deformed."

 

Linda's lucky: half of autistic children don't speak, but Adam does. He'll even parrot back her "I love you" at bedtime, which thrills her.

 

But like most autistic children, he can be overly aggressive. Linda tells of driving 20 miles a day to take her older son to school, and all the way down the Interstate, Adam, who kept wriggling out of his carseat like a mini Houdini, was pummeling her and pounding her, throwing things at her, nearly making her crash.

 

"They're just aggressive and they don't know why," Linda said. "He'll throw anything: videotapes, shoes, glasses. . . . If anything is ever different from the way he left it, like his chair pulled away from the table, he goes nuts."

 

So there's a lot of pain. But sometimes, life with Adam is funny and sweet, too. Once, at the neighborhood swimming pool, Adam was running on the wet pavement. The lifeguard shouted at him: "Adam! Don't run!"

 

Silence. Everyone stared. Adam then shouted back a line from the movie, "Heavyweights":

 

"YOU ARE A STUPID LOSER WITH A USELESS, SKINNY WEINER!"

 

The lifeguard still gets teased about it.

 

Linda next went to the grocery store, and was telling the clerk the story, when she noticed that the man behind her in line was sobbing.

 

The words came spilling out. "My little boy was just diagnosed as autistic and I don't know what to do," he said.

 

Linda could have just said, "That's too bad," and rushed off - avoiding the effort and the pain - but oh, no. Not Linda.

 

She took him aside, put her arm around him, comforted him, and started writing down phone numbers and websites.

 

"I felt for him because I know what a devastating blow that is," she said. "These kids will never be able to live on their own. It's only a dream that they can do something. You really get tested because it just keeps going - problem after problem after problem."

 

How about her faith? How has this affected that?

 

Tears roll. "It makes you think," Linda said. "Why, God? Why give this to me? I want to have fun in my life. How can You let these kids suffer in such pain?"

 

She said that, although she plans to "have words" with the Lord when she gets to heaven, she understands why she's in the place she is.

 

"It's because I'll fight," she said.

 

Most parents of autistic children are so beat down, they aren't politically active or able to do research. So Linda's there, doing it for them. She knows what they're going through, and what they need.

 

 "I just keep thinking that someday, Adam will be in a better place and we'll all understand."

 

Until then, she'll keep on going . . . keep fighting . . . and keep making life as enjoyable as she can. For example, Adam loves her to give him "puppy and kitty licks," even in public. So she does.

 

"Every day, he does this thing to me," she says, demonstrating a one-two punch that Adam thrusts in her direction. "It means I'd better get my chicken act ready."

 

The two of them run outside, and Linda staggers around the yard flapping her arms and dancing around . . . like a chicken. Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!

 

The neighbors are used to it. They know they're witnessing the most powerful force in the universe, even in the form of a silly-looking chicken dance.

 

It's love.

 

Love in action, love under stress, love that never gives up, love that keeps going even when life isn't understood, love that is admirable, love that is inspiring . . . love that never fails. †