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“I need to tell you a dream, Mommy. I dreamed that you and I were holding hands and we were flying. Not up to Heaven, just flying together. It was so beautiful, I didn’t want it to end!”
For those of you who are not familiar with my “Ben’s Dream” project, the inspiration for this piece of art came to me three years ago, when my boy slipped into bed beside me one morning and whispered of a dream where the two of us were holding hands, flying together. The image of flying with my boy over his signature houses touched my heart so deeply that I asked him to draw a picture of what it looked like and then set it aside for the right time. After several years of finding my own voice through art and allowing myself the space to grieve this autism journey that we have traveled together so far, I decided it was time, last summer, to make “Ben’s Dream” come alive on the canvas.
And so, began the “Ben’s Dream” project. The project that I have been documenting in a number posts over the past nine months and recently had the privilege of celebrating at the Children’s Museum of Richmond as a kick-off for Autism Awareness Month!
I have to say, I experienced a myriad of emotions throughout the creation of this piece. Grief. Fear. Hope. Frustration. Boredom. Acceptance. Excitement. Parts of it, near the end, really felt like a labor of love. Especially the days spent cutting-out layers of foam core in order to create the relief effect for the houses. At the same time, I sensed God urging me to carry-on. Bring this cycle to completion, my child. It will be worth it in the end! To witness the pride and joy on my boy’s face on Friday evening? It was oh, so worth it!
With no further ado, allow me to share a few scenes from our Night at the Museum.
An hour before the opening, my girl and I set-up a table filled with prints and magnets of “Ben’s Dream” along with several trays of “Hope” necklaces which I made using recycled puzzle pieces coated with resin, hearts punched from the scraps of Ben’s Dream, and crocheted glass beads. (A portion of the proceeds is now on its way to The Autism Society of Virginia!)
With the table all ready and time to spare, we made our way into the museum to find both my boy and husband playing in the Water Works area…My boy’s tie half dragging through the water and pants all splotched wet, I willed myself not to make a big deal out of it. There was a time, in my boy’s earlier days, when just the thought of splashing in water and riding a carousel would have sent him over the edge. Look at him now!
Before our friends arrived, I managed to take a few photos of my boy with the exhibit of his signature houses. Each of these houses was used, in the form of a print, within our collaborative piece, “Ben’s Dream.”
Among our very first visitors were these sweet friends (including my girl) from school. In the two hours to follow, the number of smiling faces walking through the doors to show their support left me both humbled and overjoyed! Grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. Old friends. New friends. Church friends. Babysitters. Teachers. Therapists. Each sharing their hearts with our family along our journey. Many asked for Ben’s signature on their prints, to which he happily obliged by neatly printing his name with a heart sweetly drawn beside it.
A wonderful surprise visitor arrived in the last hour. Miss Esther! The occupational therapist who taught our boy to hold a crayon and draw his very first house during his preschool years! We came full-circle that evening.
Our night at the museum was much more than an art exhibit. It was a celebration of how far we have traveled on this autism journey with our boy. A celebration of all those beautiful souls who have made a difference in our lives. May every family of these special children experience the joy of flying with them in their dreams!
While I am far from being a skilled horsewoman, horses feel like kindred spirits to me. Something about looking into a horse’s eyes seems reverent-like you can see straight through to their souls. So gentle. I have this whole romantic notion of what it would be like to live on a dude ranch. Wide open spaces. Mountains in the distance. Hair blowing in the wind as I gallop through the fields… And then there’s reality. Me. A mama over 40, not even having sat on a horse since middle school, taking her first adult lesson several years ago. Trying to trot, two-point, post and steer without peeing in my pants at the same time quickly put any thoughts of taking-up life on a ranch into proper perspective. That said, I do look forward to getting my horse- fix every other Saturday when we bring my boy to his horseback riding/therapy sessions at Mesa Vista Therapeutics.
Donkeys and llamas raise their heads in acknowledgement as we make our way down the gravel driveway, slowing for Clementine, the pot-bellied pig, the occasional chicken, or Little, the blind farm dog. When my family spills out of the car, the familiar farm smells of hay and horse manure greet our noses. Teenage volunteers muck-out stalls and saddle-up horses in preparation for eager Saturday morning riders. My boy scopes out the horses in the stalls, hoping to see one of his favorites waiting just for him.
I still remember those first lessons with my boy around the age of 7. Hours before leaving each Saturday, he ruminated over the possibility of having to ride any other horse other than his favorite at the time, Winston. Once there, I watched as my boy slouched in the saddle and struggled to remember his right from his left when steering. Progress was slow, but my boy enjoyed himself and that’s worth something all on its own. Fast-forward two years later, that same little guy, legs long in the stirrups, now confidently tells us (and himself) that he doesn’t have to ride the same horse every week. He can be flexible and besides, Winston is stubborn. He sits-up tall and chats easily with his helpers about everything from porch lights to Presidents. He deftly holds the reins and steers his horse around barrels, trots, two-points (one of his favorite skills), and practices posting. My boy is at ease with his body and the horse beneath him.
Our Saturday crew is a diverse one with special needs ranging from high-functioning autism, to down syndrome to cerebral palsy. I have witnessed one teenager, with the support of another rider, start-out a session with his muscles seized-up in a cross-legged position only to relax into the slow rhythm of the horse’s gait and fall asleep by the end of his session. His older brother, who happens to have down syndrome, sits jauntily atop a stately black horse named Breeze, confidently urging him to “Giddy-up!” Each time this beautiful boy makes his way around the ring and passes his grandmother, who is visiting for the weekend, he smiles broadly, waves, and proudly greets her with a joyful “Hi, Eemaw!”
Something magical happens when you put a horse and a person in need of healing together. Something both physical and spiritual. The slowing of the heart-rate. The relaxing of the muscles. An unspoken bond of love and understanding. And, as a parent of a special needs child, to be able to witness this connection is a gift.
Throughout this journey with my boy, there have been times when I feel like I am constantly on the receiving end. So, as I pondered Autism Awareness Month and all that it means for our family, I thought how nice it would be to give back in some small way. Throughout the month of April, I will be donating 25% of all art sales from my Etsy site, Dandelion Studio, to Mesa Vista Therapeutics. Not interested in purchasing any art right now? No problem. Just hop on over to the Mesa Vista Therapeutics website and you can make a donation right on their website! Won’t you join me in celebrating autism awareness and the beautiful people who are helping our children live their best lives?
The Blue Mug 