Beauty and the Beast

I just finished another summer at my job teaching teenagers with autism. This year was fraught with challenges that I never thought I would be able to handle with the patience, understanding, perseverance, and love that were needed every day.

Every day I came home unsure what I was learning from all this. Why was I struggling so much with my boss and my co-workers? What change was I making in these lives? Why did I feel insufficient day after day?

I still don't quite know the answer to these questions. Maybe I don't need to know. All I know is I loved those kids. I love those kids. What difference I made in their lives, I may never know.

What difference they have made in mine will be something I will hold on to forever.

Right when my heart was about to give up on gaining anything out of this experience, the love of my life, Parker, proved to me that patience and love will reach these kids if you just give it time.

It was during music time that I began playing "Beauty and the Beast" on the piano for my kids, when Parker insisted I was doing it wrong. He pulled his chair towards me, reaching over me to play a few notes. What I thought was going to be some silly banging on the piano was the introduction to this beautiful song that is very dear to my heart. I began to play chords while he played the melody, and I began singing these words:

Tale as old as time, true as it can be
Barely even friends, then somebody bends...
Unexpectedly...

I was touched to the core of my spirit. I was in shock that this 18-year-old boy had such a musical gift that I never knew about, and that he was finally sharing it with me. I began crying, and by the time I got to the last lyric, I could no longer form words. Parker touched my forearm and looked at me sympathetically. He finished the lyrics I could not say, singing the final, "...beauty and the beast." He then went on to say, "Off to the cupboard with you now, Chip. It's past your bedtime. Good night, love."

He then wiped my tears away, looked me in the eye and said "Oh, thank you."

I actually feel that music allows my soul to transcend my body and get as close to God as I possibly can. I can physically feel my soul leave in a way, so that it can dance around the sky and explode while my body rests, allowing my spirit to rejoice. It is something I cannot explain to anyone, but in that moment I knew Parker understood. Music was the way that his spirit could break free, as well. It brings Parker to life, where his autism leaves and his spirit takes over. When he looked in my eyes and said "Oh, thank you," I knew I was looking at the real Parker. The deepest part of Parker I would ever see.

I think in that moment, I was as close to God as I have ever gotten.

That one moment made absolutely everything worthwhile and I knew why I was there. Every struggle, every challenge, and every moment of impatience was worth it for the absolute sacredness of that one moment.

My soul still rejoices thinking of that day, and my body's reaction is to simply cry. I sit here and weep for the beauty that I have been blessed to see and experience.

It was not until later that my mother made me realize that in the eyes of the world, in that moment, Parker and I were "beauty and the beast."

In my eyes, he is the beauty.