When I am packing Ben's lunch, and setting out his breakfast, I take a minute to empty the dishwasher. It takes a bit of juggling to get the glasses to fit, and each kind of large bowl has its own spot. But the silverware is fast. I dump it into the drawer. 

 

When Ben comes to find his favorite spoon, he notices. He cannot resist the urge to make things right, and lines them up in their little cubicles. This is whether or not the driver has already arrived and we are running late. The forks must be nested. 

 

I do not reward him for this small chore per say. Not like the afternoon when he takes out the recycling, and uses it as a bargaining chip to earn computer time. 

 

I believe the feeling he gets from making things better is enough for him.

 

There is a video about a puppy named Starfish. She was not born with the ligaments that keep her legs under her and she was splayed, well, like a starfish. The vet thought she should be put down, but someone heard about it and rushed in to care for the dog. It took months of therapy, in the water, confined between walls, on the grass. Through it all Starfish kept wagging her tail and trying again. The story is ostensibly about the animal, which is a heart throbbing one for sure. But I am also moved by the effect on the family that adopted her. 

 

Seeing this puppy struggle to walk gave them a dose of zest for their own life. Helping Starfish helped them too. 

 

Talk about economy of blessings. 

 

I confess to spilling the silverware on purpose. It is the occasion for Benjamin to feel like he can help. While I would not go so far as to suggest that Starfish was afflicted for the purpose of giving a family a cause to work on together, I notice that it did. 

 

Which makes me curious about the behind the scenes influences around my son's autism. Is it possible that helping him to navigate his own life is actually instrumental in me learning how to live mine?