Skip to main content

My friend, a sunset

My friend Andy invited me to a Toastmaster's Christmas party last night in the home of one of the members of a Toastmaster's group he belongs to.

Andy is a big teddy bear of a man, 40 years old, never married, who has a form of autism that makes social settings difficult for him.

It's not that he is shy or that he doesn't want to be around people. The difficulty is that his autism leaves him without the social skills to read how other people are responding to him in a conversation or with their body language or through other physical expressions that most of us are able to clearly interpret.

Andy has a brilliant, encyclopedic mind. He loves to share the endless facts in his head, and believe me, he knows something about every single subject you could ever bring up. But since he has a hard time reading people he often does not know when to pause in a conversation, when to listen and respond to their points, when to let others have their say. He is working on that.

He did pretty well last night, though. He was cordial and friendly and even sweet at times. He joined into the political discussion at dinner with about 12 of us around the table. He had no trouble holding his own, fascinating the group with historical facts and his own unique take on things.

He lives alone and his job keeps him basically isolated. He fills his leisure hours with books and computer games and anonymous chat lines. He would like more social settings where he could establish a few long term relationships--have a girlfriend, and male buddies to hang out with.

We have lunch together from time to time and we've had several outings with our friend Clare, a mutual friend we both love and appreciate, someone who listens intently to Andy and offers him unconditional acceptance and warm friendship.

Carl Rogers, the imminent American psychologist who transformed psychology with his humanistic approach to psychotherapy, once said: "People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don't find myself saying, 'Soften the orange a bit on the right hand corner.' I don't try to control a sunset. I watch as it unfolds."

I thought of that last night as I observed Andy in the crowd. "Hello, Mary Jane, you look charming tonight," he said as one of the group entered the room. His smile, which transfigures his large frame into such a warm human presence, is a magnificent part of his real self. His smile makes him immediately huggable and radiates an openheartedness that says, you will like me if you give me a chance.

In those moments Andy is a sunset unfolding, not to be controlled by me or others, but just to be embraced and welcomed and appreciated for his courage to find his place in the crowd, to be genuinely acknowledged, and to experience what all of us want and need so often, the love of others.

© 2011 Timothy Moody

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

If I had five minutes to evacuate--what would I take with me?

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...

I Saw the Delicacy of Life

I was flying Across the deep And I saw the delicacy Of life Wrinkles on the faces Of the old So pure they glistened Like awards The joy of children Running with abandon Their laughter ringing Like chimes in the wind I saw the soft moving waves Across the sea And the trees releasing Their rainbow leaves Birds joined me on my flight And I saw the surface of their wings Adorned with patterns Glorious and unfurled I saw the tears of the sad And the smiles of the glad The suffering in mourning And the celebration of birth As I descended toward the ground Slowly, slowly, softly I saw the gentle grass of the field And smelled the fresh earth It was a perfect landing © 2018 Timothy Moody

Actions Make a Difference

“We make progress in society only if we stop cursing and complaining about its shortcomings and have the courage to do something about them.” ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, Physician/Author Pictured here is Kikuko Shinjo, 89 years old, a survivor of the Hiroshima atomic bomb blast. As a 17-year old nursing student she helped nurse victims of the carnage back to health. Many of them died in her care. She says she holds no grudge against America and encourages interaction between the Japanese and Americans. She has devoted her life to peace, saying, “I want all the people around the world to be friends, and I want to make my country peaceful without fighting.” Today she makes colorful paper cranes and donates them to the Children’s Peace Monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.