Who Will Notice? Who Will Cry?

There was only one thing clear. There was only one thing to be noticed. She was is only caregiver. He was obviously infantile. He had full physical appearance of a man in 3rd or 4th decade of life. A full Adam’s apple, hair on his face chest and a deep voice. However, his responses were typical of a 6-year-old child. He spoke most readily in the affirmative. No matter what the question was, he seemed to want to please me as the questioner. The right answer must be ‘yes’. It seemed he did not want to disappoint me. She was the only one in the room that would notice and cry.

This 50 year mother old accompanied her son 35 years. It was clear that she loved him deeply. The medical assistants had done their part. They had taken his blood pressure, measured his pulse respiration and temperature. They did their work with accurate precision. They input the data into the computer including his chief complaint as related by his mother and specifics as best as he could tell them.

It was clear that without his mother no one would notice, and no one would cry.

Being autistic and completely dependent upon others to navigate the common encounters of life is something I can write about, think about, pray about. I have no idea of the complexities of wondering who will notice or will cry.

His complaint was that his feet hurt. His mother noticed that he could not stand or walk because of the severity of the pain in doing so. It would be several weeks before he could see a podiatrist willing to accept his insurance, make an appointment, examine his feet, provide relief and support for in ability to walk without pain.

The only one who notices is his mother. The only one who cries is his mother.

The Holy Spirit laid upon me the most obvious thing. He told me I must notice. He told me I must examine the calluses and recognize the pain of being delayed and ignored. The treatment is delayed and the pain is ignored. It hurts the mother and her son.

Within 15 minutes I was able to give significant relief of his pain and incredible joy to his mother by simply examining the calluses, using a scalpel to shave the thick skin and apply a soothing ointment. It was as if Jesus himself had made the lame walk. He entered the clinic limping and he left leaping.

I wonder if anyone noticed his pain except his mother. I wonder if anyone cries but he and his mother.
I wonder from my own life. Does anyone notice I am here? Will anyone cry when I am gone?

Do something of value to make someone notice Live your life in such a way that someone will cry when you are gone.