Are all children with special needs considered a lovely bit of light by their mothers? Or perhaps, those with autism? I think maybe it’s a bit of both, a person whose mind is wired creatively and maybe their chromosomes are just a bit unique. Sunbeam is defined as a beam of light from the sun that you can see. That you can see, that is my favorite part.

Light is all around us, most all the time, but one can not articulate its’ origin. No, it encompasses the world around us and envelopes our very selves so there is no beginning or end to measure or take note. Sunbeams are quite different, a stream of light dictated by those particles that you long to grasp, but they float and no matter your efforts, futile at best, they remain a mystery of light.

Amos is my sunbeam. His light is quite measurable by me and it is born from darkness that falls more often than I care to admit. Joy with him ebbs and flows and his smile and very self are the sunbeams that remind me that life is better because he walks this earth. There’s no question that the path is steep, perilous, exhausting, emotionally demanding, and frustrating. When life is real and messy and unexpected, seeking joy leaves me gravitating to light’s origin. Spying that spectacular sunbeam which shan’t be captured, shining peace, continues to defy my fearful imagination.

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