God's "Good Morning": The Spiritual Journey of a Mother Raising a Special Needs Child

By Betty Raymond Gubler

The manuscript of God's "Good Morning" is just what the subtitle claims. It is a retelling of my spiritual journey raising an autistic son who is now fifty-four years old. Our son lives at home with his parents and will do so until my husband Greg and I become incapable of parenting him due to old age or our passing at which time, our son will live with his sister. Thus, this relationship is a lifelong commitment. This manuscript is a story of the growth of faith, hope, and love. My intention of writing such a manuscript is that of my desire to share with other parents of a special needs child my experiences dealing with this daunting challenge. This is not a clinical manuscript, but rather a manuscript of personal growth from shock, despair, and discouragement to acceptance, peace, and joy and reveals the miraculous healing of my broken spirit. Although this manuscript is written for parents of special needs children, it would also be found inspiring by a general audience of readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888321508

Book preview

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God's Good Morning

The Spiritual Journey of a Mother Raising a Special Needs Child

Betty Raymond Gubler

ISBN 979-8-88832-149-2 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88832-150-8 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Betty Raymond Gubler

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Preface

Journey to the Dawning and the Rising of the Sun

The Spiritual Journey of an Exceptional Parent

And the Greatest of These Is Love

Don't Fight Tomorrow's Battles Today

A Trust, Not a Burden

The Eternal Why

The Spiritual Development of a Special Needs Child

The Trials of a Sibling of a Special Needs Child

A Measure of Success

Resources to Rely Upon

Family Closeness

To Become Like Him

From a Cottage to a Palace

The Gift Sublime

The Parable of the Talents

When God Touches a Life

That His Works Be Made Manifest

Our Own Miracles

Joy Cometh in the Morning

Good Timber

God's Good Morning

Invictus

The Children's Friend

He Was Like unto Us

Endless Association

Making a Conquest of Life

One More Day

God Will Not Forget

Affinity of Souls

A Christmas Reverie

Motherhood—Partnership with God

Fatherhood—A Lesson in Divinity

This Is Life Eternal

Worth Striving For

Comfort through Prayer

I Have Fought the Good Fight

Walk with the Lord

A Faith to Live By

The Resurrection and the Life

Increase of Love

Love Speaks

And These Two Shall Be One

The Meaning of Life

The Joy of Earth

Lonely Hearts

The Persuasion of the Heart

Another's Footsteps

A Vision of Gladness

The Voice of an Angel

Not a Burden, but a Blessing

Photos

Endnotes

About the Author

To my son, Lance, who has taught me more of God and heaven than any other mortal I have ever known.

Celestial Mission

In Heaven the children of God were assembled

Awaiting their call for their mission on earth—

What anticipation! What chance for advancement

In seeking their worth through the channel of birth!

Our Heavenly Father with each made appointment

To chart out each life and each mission below.

Inspired by His wisdom, we all made agreement

To follow the plan ere to earth we did go.

One, noble in spirit, said: "Father, I offer

My life for Thy glory—but let me return

To dwell in Thy presence forever and ever.

Let me through my earth mission this reward earn."

My son, said the Father, "thy role I have chosen—

For thou a refiner of earth lives will be.

Thou needst not be tested for I know thy spirit—

But thou wilt test others their value to see.

Yea, some will abhor thee, despise thee, and shun thee

Not knowing the greatness and worth of thy soul.

You see, though thy body on earth will be living,

The light of thy mind will remain with Me whole.

How mortals on earth will receive or reject thee

Will measure their soul mettle. Such is thy role!

My son, this great mission to few can be given.

Thy rich reward's promised! Go forth, valiant soul!

Lo, out of My daughters and sons I have chosen

Thy mother and father with spirits benign.

Thy mission shall test them and grieve them—refining

Their souls like thine own—purified and divine."

Thenceforth went that spirit—celestial, all-willing

To live as was planned by the Father above—

An infant so precious—the first in the household

Conceived by the parents in beauty and love.

What gladness they felt at his coming, not knowing

The handicap chosen by his spirit bold.

His eyes were blue heavens, his sweetness unmeasured,

His hair seemed a halo of bright shining gold.

As time passed, the parents became apprehensive.

He did not develop as most children do.

They held him more closely and loved him more dearly—

While longing to help him the older he grew.

The blessing they pleaded for echoed their anguish.

Their tears were their prayers to the Father above.

Just help us Thy purpose to understand, Father,

They prayed, seeking comfort, the touch of His love.

The mother and father accepted their mission

Not wholly realizing what greatness for them

Awaited, but angels in Heaven were making

For each a celestial-earned diadem.

Preface

Parents have many expectations when their first child arrives. This is a story about our firstborn son, Lance, revealing the challenges and blessings he has brought into our lives. To us, he is a magnificent human being. Our love for him as he is, as well as our understanding of special needs children has grown immensely through the years. Although Lance's progress has been incremental, we take joy in each and every step along the way. We consider it an honor and a blessing to have this special son in our care.

I wrote most of God's Good Morning during Lance's childhood years as a way of keeping an account of what my husband Greg and I experienced during these years concerning Lance's problems and progress as well as our own as his parents. Then for years, I put away this manuscript, although I continued to write in a diary or a journal. Because I had developed the habit of writing about my daily experiences and thoughts in a diary or journal in my later teen years, my memories of Lance and his development continued to be recorded after I put the manuscript away. Lance is now in his early fifties. Greg kept encouraging me to publish a book about our experience of being parents of a special needs child as a means of sharing with other parents of special needs children our spiritual journey with our amazing son. This has been a journey that involves our commitment to our son for the remainder of our lives, at which time he will live with his sister Amy who, though almost three years younger, has acted like an older protective sister to him.

Here in this preface, I will include a brief summary of Lance's first years. When Greg's stepmother, Ella Hinton Gubler, passed away at the age of ninety-nine, we were given a packet of letters we had written to her and Greg's father in which we included information about how our son Lance was doing, our joys and our heartaches. In the following chapters, I will, in greater detail, include the memories that were written during Lance's early years. However, I have taken the freedom of adding to and updating the information as I read again what I had written so many years ago.

After a whirlwind courtship while attending Brigham Young University (BYU) in Provo, Utah, Greg and I were married in the Salt Lake City Temple on May 31, 1967. Due to the love that we felt for each other, during our courtship, we made a commitment that our marriage would be a special one, its specialness being a priority throughout our mortal lives, not allowing the quality of the love in our marriage to become something mundane or taken for granted. We also talked about the family we hoped to have, wanting at least four to six children.

I was attending BYU–Provo graduate school working on a master's degree in English while teaching freshman English classes as a graduate assistant. Greg, having served for four years in the Marines and then fulfilling a church mission in Japan for two and a half years, was completing his junior year at the university. It was a day of celebration for us when in the spring of 1968, the doctor confirmed that I was expecting a baby. It was a time of happiness and excitement for us, a baby of our own being greatly desired. Shortly before Greg's graduation from BYU in the spring of 1968, we learned that he had been chosen, from a field of many applicants, to receive a Fulbright scholarship to study the Mandarin language at Nanyang University in Singapore.

We had hoped that Lance would be born before Greg departed for Singapore on September 27, 1968 (also the day of Greg's twenty-seventh birthday), although the day before Greg's departure to Singapore, the doctor said after examining me that he believed it was too risky to induce labor even though Lance's due date of birth was October 3. Shortly before Greg's flying to Singapore, we moved from our apartment in Provo, and I stayed with Greg's parents in Bountiful, eagerly awaiting the time of Lance's birth as well as our being able to join Greg in far-off Singapore.

Following my twenty-hour labor, Lance was born by forceps delivery on October 15, two weeks after his expected due date. Lance was very lethargic and didn't breathe immediately. Unable to look behind me and see our little boy, I waited anxiously on the delivery table, growing very fearful about not hearing his birth cry. After a few minutes, with help from the doctor and nurse (Greg's stepmother, Ella, was the head nurse of the maternity ward.), Lance finally whimpered slightly. Soon, he was laid beside me, a sweet and beautiful, blue-eyed, blond-haired son who only wanted to sleep. I called him my reluctant spirit, meaning that although he was born nearly two weeks past his due date, he wanted to spend a little more time with our Heavenly Father before embarking upon his mortal mission. He weighed seven pounds and three ounces and was twenty inches long. What I have long remembered, a memory that I continue to cherish, is the sweetness of his breath on my cheek as I cuddled him in my arms while still on the delivery table. It was love at first sight! The only disappointment was that Greg wasn't there to meet our newborn son.

Lance and I left the hospital after only a two-day stay because we weren't financially able to pay for a longer stay. Although Ella, because of my early release from the hospital, told the doctor she would stay home with me for a few days, she stayed home with me only one day and then returned to her job in the hospital. Because of the pain I experienced while trying to nurse him, Lance was put on the bottle with formula when he was ten days old. He always seemed hungry, but slept well at night. By the time he was six weeks old, he was sleeping through the night. He seemed healthy, active, smiling, and alert. I loved rocking him when I wasn't busy cooking, cleaning, or supervising my three young sisters-in law and their brother.

On December 7, Lance and I flew to Singapore to join Greg. On December 11, 1968, I wrote to Greg's parents: How grateful and happy I am to be here with Greg. Lance slept most of the time except for when I changed and fed him. The stewardesses adored him. They came and sat down with us and asked to hold him. He had some big smiles for all of them. After boarding the plane in San Francisco, we had stopovers in Hawaii, Guam, Manila, and Saigon. Greg is thrilled with our little boy. When we arrived at the airport in Singapore, I couldn't be with Greg until passing through immigration checkouts. Greg kept motioning for me to let him see Lance. One of the immigration officials understood and let me take Lance over to Greg.

Greg and I were very proud of Lance who received much attention and adoration from our Singaporean church members. I rarely got to hold him once we were in church as the Singaporean members wanted to hold him. Greg was called to be the branch president of our branch—soon to be ward—in Singapore. On December 29, I wrote to Greg's parents: Greg is so wonderful with Lance. One of the members told me today that she is fascinated by Greg and Lance. Greg watches Lance and studies everything as if he's afraid he might someday forget. Lance is very active and alert. Now he entertains himself by making many different sounds. Greg gave Lance a musical mobile for Christmas. Lance laughs at it—and shakes his legs and fists at it defiantly.

On April 5, I wrote to Greg's parents: Now Lance is almost six months old. Every day, he is more wonderful! Being such a good little boy, he is adored by our church members as well as people here at Nanyang University. Lance sits up alone now, but is not quite ready to stand alone yet without a little support to balance him.

Lance turned one of his feet slightly inward (we thought from the fetal position), but the Singapore doctor we took Lance to said this would be no problem once he started walking. Lance had the designated immunizations. Because we needed to pay the cost for Lance's and my fares for flying to Singapore and also for the later trip back to Utah, while in Singapore, I was hired to teach English classes to Chinese students in the mornings Mondays through Saturdays at Nanyang University while Greg was home with Lance where we were living in faculty housing. Then in the afternoons, Greg attended his Mandarin classes while I was home with Lance.

The following aerogram was torn so I don't have the date, but it was probably July or August when I wrote to Greg's parents: Lance is still very precious and unspoiled. He's about ready to walk and drinks most liquid from a cup. He says Da-Da, Na-Na, Ma-Ma, and Bye-Bye.

When Lance was a year old, he developed a fever and a rash, but those soon left. He began talking, saying words like Mommy, Daddy, ball, car, bye-bye, as well as Waggle Waggle because of a cat that visited us frequently whom Lance referred to as Waggle.

We left Singapore in January of 1970. At home in Utah, Lance, now fifteen months old, developed the habit of getting on his knees and rocking in his crib as well as rubbing his forehead along the carpet. With corrective shoes and the use of a night brace, he began walking without tripping at sixteen months. He began to be fearful of new situations and places. Also, he stopped communicating with words. We felt that he understood us, but he didn't talk to us. I became quite concerned and thought he must have had problems with an undiagnosed earache and that his hearing was damaged because of it. We later learned in Utah from attending meetings of parents of autistic children that autistic children, upon reaching the age of fifteen months, seemed to lose their ability to speak. Their behavior also changes considerably.

At two years of age, Lance played for a long time with his blocks, lining them up or sorting them by color. He began collecting bottles of all sorts and sizes and loved to put toys and blocks inside a gallon-size milk bottle and shake the bottle. (I had washed the bottle and cut the top off of it for him.) I loved holding him in my arms, talking to him, and singing to him while I sat in our rocking chair. Lance was potty-trained at two and a half years of age, had very few accidents, and liked to be clean—almost to an obsession. He didn't like dirt. I sometimes took him to a park and held him in a swing with me, an activity he enjoyed. He behaved well at church and Sunday school meetings, separating from his parents without being afraid when he was old enough to attend the nursery. Lance preferred to play by himself instead of socializing with other children and found it hard to share certain toys or objects such as bottles.

Lance was tested at Primary Children's Hospital July and August of 1971, but no diagnosis was made or explained to us. (About five years later when we returned to Utah from Florida and took Lance back to the Primary Children's Hospital for a follow-up visit, we found out they had earlier written on Lance's records that he exhibited autistic tendencies. We wish we had been given this information during our first visit. It would have given us an earlier start in studying about autism.) We were instructed to enroll Lance in speech and behavior modification classes. This became a very difficult time for me, having giving birth to Lance's sister Amy, September 8, 1971. We left for Florida in our little Datsun three days later. Lance sat in front with Greg while I sat in the back, taking care of Amy. Once we arrived in Tallahassee, Greg began his work on his doctorate, a PhD degree at Florida State University (FSU).

I worked with Lance, trying to increase his vocabulary by sharing nursery rhymes and stories and showing him the many pictures that we had bought in a special wooden box while still in Singapore. At age three, Lance began to have tantrums, bumping his forehead on the carpeted floor quite forcefully. Twice a week, Greg took him to attend one-half hour speech and behavior modification classes taught by students majoring in special education at FSU.

I wrote to Greg's parents on October 22, 1971: Lance is wearing corrective shoes now for which I'm so happy. He has a little buddy, Randy, who is almost four years old. Randy is here quite a lot so I've gained another son—a redhead full of mischief. Amy weighed ten pounds at her six-weeks' checkup. She looks so beautiful to me, and I just feel so blessed to be the mother of such precious children. I think there are four more spirits ‘up there' waiting to join us. We are all well and feel that Heavenly Father is close to us and blessing us each day.

Greg wrote to his parents on October 31, 1971: Surely do appreciate your fine letters and I know Betty does. It is an emotionally critical period for her so she needs concern and love.

I added to my diary on November 6: Lance enjoys looking at books now and names objects such as blocks, trees, shoes, trucks, and spoon. I'm making an effort to tell him bedtime stories. He enjoys the attention and cuddling he gets. Yesterday, he told Greg that he loves Mama, so maybe we're reaching him.

On January 7, 1972, I wrote to Greg's parents: While Amy is in her crib, she rolls onto her tummy and wriggles around until her head is pressing against the bars. Then she watches Lance very intently while he's playing and coos to him. Lance plays peek-a-boo with her by putting a blanket over his head. Amy sucks in her breath—wide-eyed. When Lance pulls the blanket off, they both laugh out loud. It's so delightful to watch them.

When Lance was four years old, we moved to Gainesville, Florida, where Greg taught at the University of Florida for two years for a professor who was on leave. We enrolled Lance in the Sunshine School. His vocabulary slowly grew in terms of echolalia. He constantly asked, What is this? because that's how I quizzed him with the pictures I showed to him. He enjoyed listening to the Mother Goose and other nursery rhymes. Sometimes I would substitute wrong words on purpose, and he would correct me. That's how I knew he was listening to me and learning what I was teaching him. He also enjoyed putting simple puzzles together and humming simple tunes.

On September 12, 1972, I wrote to Greg's parents: Our dear Amy Ruth was one year old last Friday and so adorable. We have been fortunate to have received from members in both Tallahassee and Gainesville many clothes for Amy. When we sang ‘Happy Birthday' to her, she was so precious. I was sitting on the carpet, and she walked over to me and gave me a big hug and a slobbery open-mouthed kiss. It will always be a treasured memory to me. She walks well now, has eight teeth, and says ‘Mama,' ‘Daddy,' ‘No, no, Amy,' ‘Up-down,' and ‘Hi there.' What a blessing she has been to us this year! And our Lance is equally treasured. He has such a wonderful love for books now, as well as having stories read to him.

On January 2, 1973, I wrote to Greg's parents: A week before Christmas, I weaned Amy from her pacifier. She kept getting out of her crib and pounding on the door. When all was quiet, Greg and I peeked in and found Amy was lying on Lance's bed asleep on his pillow. It was a most precious sight! After she gets out of her crib in the morning when Lance gets up to go potty, they both land on our bed about an hour before we wish they would. These will be treasured memories in the years to come, I'm sure!

At ages four and five, Lance habitually unraveled his stockings right down to the tops of his sneakers and pulled strings out of the carpet in his bedroom, making bald spots. He seemed to require very little sleep—and often had stomach upsets from eating his food too fast and not chewing his food properly. (This continues to be a problem, but he has fewer stomach upsets.)

On August 5, 1973, disappointed that we were unable to get Lance accepted in a program offered for autistic children at Shand's Teaching Hospital, I wrote the following to Greg's parents: Perhaps the gift of peace is greater than the gift of happiness. Presently, I feel that happiness is an elusive and fleeting goal, at least during this mortal life—that this life is indeed a vale of tears. There is only one choice and that is to struggle on. How I yearn with all my heart to know the love of a mother and of a father. My experiences in this life of becoming an orphan and living in an orphanage as a young child will make me extra appreciative of once again dwelling with our Heavenly Parents. I have come to the understanding that our suffering in this life is to heighten our joy in the life to come and that if we go through this life untested, we have proven nothing. So I yearn for that time—for the Divine Approval, the perfect love, the reunion of father, mother, and children—our mortal weaknesses having been cast off. And I think especially how magnificent my Lance will be, and everyone there will see and know it. I can just barely perceive the glory of that life—enough to make me try harder in this life to withstand each test, to try to be brave, to smile, to cheer our kindred spirits who are indeed being tested in their own ways. I am determined not to fall short of the goal. There are too many that I love so much and I cannot disappoint them. There is so much in my heart that is just pouring out—so much that needs someone to listen and to understand.

On October 16, 1973, I wrote to Greg's parents: I teach Home Primary and Sunday School for the benefit of our precious Lance. Amy surely enjoys these lessons and loves the little songs. Lance was five years old yesterday. How beautiful he is—and what an unusual five years this has been. Spiritually, I've never hurt so much or been blessed so much in my whole life. Lance is a most wondrous refiner. Oh, how greatly I love him!

As I mentioned earlier, we had Lance tested again—this time at Shand's Teaching Hospital. Again, no diagnosis! After two or three days of our taking him to the hospital to be observed, one of those who had observed him brought him to us. About all she had to say was that he was a very interesting little boy who had neurological problems. I felt somewhat upset that instead of their seeing him as a precious child who needed help, they simply saw him as an interesting little boy. Their program for autistic children was already filled, but she offered us, his parents, counseling (at $30 a session) to help us overcome our grief. I'll write more about this in chapter 3.

On May 22, 1974, I wrote to Greg's parents: Our little family will be moving back to Tallahassee on June 12. We have applied to have Lance attend the morning session of the Gretchen Everhart Center. I guess wherever I go, my first thought will be: ‘Are there people and facilities here to help Lance reach his potential?' I have yet to see a little boy I could love more. He is dearer to me because of his learning handicap. It has drawn me closer into a partnership with Heavenly Father. Amy is a typical female chatterbox. She likes to talk to her daddy on the telephone and sing the alphabet to him. When he comes home, she tells him what I did all day, then says, ‘That's a good Mum Mum.' Also, she likes to play ‘Horsie' with Lance. She'll grab hold of the back of his shirt, give him a push, and off they'll gallop giggling and laughing. They can also get into a lot of mischief together. They played with the pepper can while I was cleaning the apartment once, and when I caught them, there was pepper all through the house.

At age six, Lance attended the Gretchen Everhart School back in Tallahassee, Florida, where Greg was finishing the work on his PhD dissertation. Lance was taking Ritalin, as prescribed by a doctor, in order to be less distractible and have more eye contact. His language improved noticeably. I wrote in my journal on June 25, 1975: I don't know why, but somehow I had the idea that because I had experienced so many trials in my childhood, I would be exempt from suffering in the future. So Lance's problems have really floored me. But I guess the trials of the past had not sufficiently refined me, and it was needful that my spirit continue to be molded. The emotional pain has been excruciating, but I trust the final product will meet our Heavenly Father's approval if I continue to endure. I cannot say that at times, I have been without sorrowful and disillusioned thoughts concerning this trial. But there have been other moments—moments of unutterable sweetness that could be borne of only experiencing such a trial—that more than compensate for the burnt dross. People are more precious to me, their heartaches more touching. Though I often can hardly bear my own, I would wish to bear the crosses of others or at least support and comfort them. It is easier to comprehend that all mortals are my brothers and sisters through our Divine Fatherhood. And I have learned through my need for love that I must give love to others whose need is as great as mine, if not greater.

We moved to the small community of Farmington, Utah, in April of 1976 where Lance was enrolled in the Monte Vista School. He rarely played with other children but spoke with fondness of his classmates. He also began attending a Special Primary for special needs children. Having read literature of medical disapproval of children being put on Ritalin, I took Lance off the Ritalin during the summer, deciding to let his hyperactivity impact on me rather than his teachers. I wanted him to be able to control his hyperactivity on his own rather than be medicated. The summer went well for us without Lance being on the Ritalin. Without mentioning it to his teacher in the fall, I never put him back on Ritalin, and no teacher seemed to have noticed. At least none complained.

Lance loved to ride in the car and became very observant of traffic. He especially enjoyed seeing the trucks, his favorite truck being the car carrier. We often took our children with us and parked our car near the airport so we could watch the planes taking off as well as coming in for a landing. (Since September 11, 2001, I don't think this would be allowed.) Lance expected things to go routinely and things to always be in place. He had a nervous habit of licking his hands and furniture with his tongue. He also did this to his tricycle wheels, but was never interested in sitting on the tricycle seat and pedaling it around. Amy took over enjoying his tricycle. Lance always found a warm place in the hearts of his teachers. We were grateful that he was blessed to have excellent teachers.

At age eight, Lance read and spelled very well, but math was learned mostly by memorization. He attended a special education class at Bountiful Elementary School. I would spend one day a week, Tuesdays, I think, helping his teacher, the wonderful Jeanne Earl, so she could work with some of the students while I worked with others. Jeanne Earl stayed with Lance's class for three years. She loved the children and wanted to teach them as long as the principal agreed to let her advance with them. I give her credit for teaching Lance to be such a good reader. She gave me some much-needed advice, although I don't think I always followed it. She told me to let her be Lance's teacher and for me to just concentrate on being a mother to him. She recognized how stressed out I was while trying to help Lance catch up with the so-called normal children, thus making life harder for myself than it should be.

Lance greatly increased his eye contact and became more interested in people, although he was still very shy. He spoke in good sentences and could follow through a series of requests without being reminded. His memory sometimes seemed fantastic. For instance, on hearing Amy recite a poem she had learned at school, he immediately recited it word-perfect. We hadn't even been aware that he was paying attention to her. The poem was called The Balloon.

A little boy was careless once.

He lost his little yellow balloon.

It went up so high—into the sky.

And ever since it's been called the moon.

At age ten, Lance dressed himself, except for tying his shoes. In fact, he had been dressing himself since he was three years old. He liked to pick out his own clothes and usually matched them well—favoring the color blue. He bathed himself, although I first adjusted the heat of the water and shampooed his hair. Also, he enjoyed being with a special friend in his class at school and was no longer a loner in his special education class.

At home, Lance enjoyed being outdoors when the weather was pleasant but sulked when it snowed. He enjoyed pulling up weeds, sweeping, dusting, and emptying the waste baskets. After a meal, he cleared the dishes off the table, putting them by the sink. Because of his shyness, he could be trusted to stay in our yard while playing outside, but needed guidance walking to places because he wandered to whatever attracted his attention and didn't check to see if there was traffic when crossing a street. I made sure that he was holding my hand whenever we walked to church and had to cross some streets.

When we went on walks together, I would tell him it was his job to keep his mommy safe. Although he mechanically turned his head in both directions when we came to a place where we needed to cross a street, he didn't focus with his eyes to see if traffic was coming. I often had to tell him that we couldn't cross the street because traffic was coming. As the traffic went by us, I told him something bad could have happened to us if we had crossed the street when he had indicated it was safe. At the next street crossing, I again reminded him that he needed to keep Mommy safe and for us to cross the street only when no traffic was coming. Still, although he turned his head in both directions, he didn't focus, so without my guidance, he would have crossed the street in front of oncoming traffic, expecting no harm to come to him. This problem continues to this day. He, however, had an excellent sense of direction and location.

He attended the Course 9 class in Sunday school—which I attended with him. One Sunday, when we were discussing ways they could help out at home, the boys were amazed to hear that Lance made his own bed since their mothers made their beds for them. Lance could give the prayers and recite scriptures. He was a persistent young lad and tried hard to succeed. Considering his handicap, his progress seemed astounding. Five or eight years ago, I never would have dreamed of how much progress we would witness. (I wrote this in April of 1979.)

When we moved to Hawaii where I taught English classes at BYU–Hawaii, the agreement was that I would teach only part-time so I could be home when Lance and Amy were home. The final chapter in this book will tell of Lance's years in Hawaii and then of our retirement with him in Pennsylvania. I will also explain why I gave this book the title of God's Good Morning.

Note: Because this book lent itself to my quoting several scriptures, all the biblical scriptures I quote come from the King James Version. I, being old-fashioned, still prefer to capitalize pronouns referring to Deity, although I recognize this is no longer necessary. Because I use the pronouns he, him, and his when referring to special needs children, these pronouns, being generic, also include the pronouns she, her, and hers. I've divided this book into mini-chapters, each of which addresses concerns and topics I've encountered as a mother as well as how my spiritual growth beginning with my childhood years greatly blessed me as I dealt with being the mother of a special needs child. It is my sincere hope that in reading about my experiences, this book will provide hope and inspiration to others who face similar dilemmas and challenges.

1

Journey to the Dawning and the Rising of the Sun

After I graduated from college in 1964, my youngest sister Annette and I spent a few summers in New Jersey where our then-bachelor brothers Sonny (Robert) and Peter worked and lived. Since we were products of a broken home and hadn't spent much of our childhood with each other, the times that we could get together were very precious to us, although exceedingly brief. Because I taught school after graduating from college, I enjoyed using some of my salary buying a bathing suit, winter coat, and school clothes for Annette. At the end of summer, Annette and I returned to our respective homes in Maine after visiting some of our family and relatives. My half-sister Annette, born after our family broke up, lived with our mother. I don't think I met Annette until the first summer we spent with our brothers in New Jersey. I had lived in an orphanage twice and also with two different foster families.

An experience that so often flashes before my mind occurred during one of these trips back to Lee, Maine, from Franklin Lakes, New Jersey. The summer (1965) was over, and we were preparing for our return trip to Maine. Our brothers spent the day at work as usual. Instead of our brothers resting that evening, they decided that we would leave New Jersey at about 6 p.m. so that we could take advantage of traveling in the evening coolness that was to come. We left in high spirits, singing and joking, excited about visiting our loved ones back in Maine. For one thing, we were going to visit our mother. I hadn't seen her for a number of years, so I was eager to reclaim the privilege of belonging to her and basking in the warmth of maternal affection and pride that I craved. Finally, my destination was what I had longed for it to be for years—home! We were going home!

As the heat of the day gave way to the coolness of the evening, the chattering and laughter became less frequent. It seemed a sweet joy when darkness fell because it enveloped us with a feeling of coziness even though the freeways we traveled through New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts were heavily traveled. A delicious weariness fell upon us. My brothers agreed to take turns driving so that while one was driving, the other could sleep. Annette fell asleep, so I sat in the front seat chatting with my brother Sonny who was driving, mainly to keep him awake and alert. The speed at which we traveled, usually from seventy to ninety miles an hour in the fast lane, filled me with a sense of urgency. I must not fall asleep! I made it my self-appointed duty to stay awake to entertain the brother who was driving. Because Peter and Annette were sleeping in the back seat, Sonny didn't want to wake them up, so he did most of the driving.

The sky became dark blue and then deeply purple. The many lights along the freeway were a myriad of colors and fascination. The sky finally became a heavy black proclaiming the deep of night. I wanted to escape into its tempting coziness—to close my eyes. Yet there was that ever-present