My Autismland Cast of Characters

Someone told me long ago that if you can laugh at it, it hasn’t defeated you. I have kept that thought in the back of my mind ever since and I added another: if I can write about it, it hasn’t defeated me either. So that’s one reason since learning I was on the Autism Spectrum at the end of 2016 that I write about it. So with that in mind, writing about it with a dash of humor, here’s some of the cast of characters I live within Autismland for better or worse.

Ms. Stimfield

She is definitely a daily character in Autismland. She is a quick change artist – a leg shaker, a rocker, floor pacer, jogger, and fidgeter. This character is a soother for my sensory overload. Good medicine for my anxiety. A character of repetitive motion that helps me focus. Ms. Stimfield is a friendly character I am thankful to have around.

The Meltdowner

Not so thankful for “The Meltdowner”! The monster of the cast. The ogre may arise over some small aggravation or arrive for no reason at all. At least, the Meltdowner doesn’t come around every day. Its appearance raises the tension in my body to where it feels like an erupting volcano. After its leaving, I am as drained as I would be after being caught in the midst of a noise-filled crowd with little elbow room.

The Escape Artist

Another daily character that is the most mysterious member of the cast. If you came upon someone talking to themselves, pacing the floor and/or performing gestures indicating they are off in another world, you might be leery of the person. I do this but I make every effort of doing it without witnesses. I know if I could see myself on the video camera, my escapism would look strange even to me. No matter, it is a necessity for me. The escape artist has been around since childhood. It helps me cope in a world I don’t understand.

Ms. Chatterbox

Ms. Chatterbox is a delightful character. She shows up when I’m having a one-on-one conversation about one of my limited list of topics I am interested in. If someone asks me about one of my passions/obsessions, Ms. Chatterbox will deliver a monolog. Since I don’t have too many conversations on a daily basis where the topic is down my alley, Ms. Chatterbox isn’t always around in Autismland. However, I do enjoy her appearance. Unlike the Meltdowner who leaves me feeling drained, she leaves me with a bounce of energy after chatting with someone who shows genuine interest in whatever I’m going on and on about.

Ms. Solitaire

To put it simply, Autismland is living alone surrounded by people. I’m most comfortable doing things on my own. I picture myself in public more as an observer than a participant. A worse punishment would be to be amidst people around the clock than to be in solitary confinement. I truly need to have Ms. Solitaire in my daily life such as when I come home from my school classroom assistant job. I love working with the kids and staff but the challenges of social interaction are exhausting. I need Ms. Solitaire to help keep The Meltdowner at bay, if possible. It is Ms. Solitaire who recharges my batteries.

Ms. Perfection

This character makes me think of one word: annoyance. She is persistent in reminding me I have to finish whatever I start. Not only finish, but it is perfect enough that I can walk away from it with nothing left undone. She is exhausting! On the other hand, I’ve gotten many kudos in various jobs I’ve held over my career thanks to being driven by Ms. Perfection.

The Organizer

This is the most useful one of the cast. It prompts me to organize things by color, alphabet, age, genre, etc. It isn’t a chore to organize; it’s a TREAT! I am in a delightful place when the Organizer is at work. The other day I secretly organized my Mom’s kitchen pantry. I did hers because all my stuff is organized and re-organized one too many times. Sometimes the Organizer goes overboard. Anyway, I bet she had cans of food that she didn’t know she had on hand. Since she is neurotypical, I don’t think the pantry will stay in the order I put it in.

Ms. Sensitivity

Another annoying character but not to the degree as the Meltdowner.  Ms. Sensitivity shows up when there are certain noises and smells that raise my anxiety.  She is the reason I wear an eye mask at night to avoid the lights coming from my collection of electronic gadgets.  She is the reason I have one of those gadgets, my “Alexa” home assistant, to play white noise music to drown out my heartbeat or the snoring coming from another room.  Ms. Sensitivity doesn’t kick up a storm when the music playing is my music.  But when it is someone else’s music, she will kick and I will feel like a cat whose tail got caught on a chair leg.

The Distractor

This character heavily endows me on a daily basis with doses of “frustration”!  I can’t read a page without this character’s interference unless what I am reading is “spellbinding” to me.  That seldom happens.  Same with watching TV.  The Distractor doesn’t want me to watch a TV program on my recliner with my hands folded in my lap. I need to have something to do while watching such as a crossword puzzle or fidgeting with my fidget spinner.  Any TV program that can have my undivided attention without the Distractor … well, it seldom happens.  Thanks to the Distractor I haven’t been to the movie theater for a couple of years because it doesn’t make sense to pay no small price to sit in the theater drifting off in the Distractor’s la-la land.

 

I’m sure I left some characters out, but this posting is long enough.  There are characters wearing white hats and others wearing black.  And, some are not entirely white or black just as Autism itself.  It isn’t entirely black or white either.

Golden Solitude

I looked up the definition of “solitude” and came across this definition: the state or art of being alone or remote from others.   I never thought of it as an art, but if so, I mastered it at an early age.  I’m still quite good at it too!

I don’t lump solitude with loneliness.  Loneliness usually pays me a visit when I’m in the midst of a handful of people or a full house.  On the other hand, my visit with solitude is my being alone by choice.  It is a golden opportunity to recharge my batteries.  Without solitude, I fear I would be in meltdown country around the clock.

Yearning for lone time isn’t limited to those like myself who live on the autism spectrum. It is just that being on the spectrum, lone time is more a necessity than a choice.  I need it for my mental well-being as I need to eat and breathe for my physical health.  As honest as I know how to be, I am most content when I am doing my own thing by myself.

Solitude reminds me of Jesus Christ.  It is told in the Gospels of times when Jesus would go off by Himself to a mountainside or a garden to have prayer time with His Father.  Jesus spent much time in small groups with his disciples; while other times, he was followed by a multitude of people in the thousands.  He did take time, though, to have alone time with the Father.

Time by myself is a break away from the challenges of social interaction.  There are no verbal instructions to process.  I can escape into my own world.  I can hear and utter my thoughts to myself.  When I go to the park for solitude, I go to worship too.  I can pray to God or sound out my thoughts in the midst of God’s wonders of nature:- the tree limbs bending down to the wind, the beauty of the flowers, watching the ducks go about their business, and the rhythm of the waves on the lake.  Many of my blog postings were born on that trail in the park of golden solitude.

 

 

 

 

 

My Eye on the Ball

One of the common autism traits I both possess and enjoy immensely is “unsociable” hobbies.  It’s not that I don’t like people; I just don’t like to be around them much.  I can’t recall ever liking to play games unless I could compete with one person – myself.

My favorite one is going on a date with my tennis ball and racket at a nearby college campus. The campus has the tennis cages where there is a practice wall.  I confess it is a big treat if all the cages are empty or at least all the ones on one side of the wall.  I’ll usually play less time if there are others around, especially if accompanied by blasting I-pods.  This may sound like a boring way to play since the wall always wins every match, but I’m not out there to win.  Just play that’s all.

I don’t remember all the tips my tennis coach gave me in high school but I imagine “keeping my eye on the ball” was one of them  I know if my eye is on the ball, I improve the odds of the matches against the wall being longer.  In other words, I’ll spend more time hitting the ball and less time fetching it.

It occurred to me this is true in my daily walk with my Lord and Savior.  Just as I need to keep my eye on the ball, I need to keep my eye on Jesus.  This is easier said than done because there is the constant temptation to take my eyes off of Him and look at whatever is on my plate.  Sometimes what is on my plate has the visual appearance of a dark night without a star in the sky.

If my focus is on the darkness, I will drown in that darkness.  The depths of despair will overwhelm me.  Such as when I’m having a meltdown.  A meltdown is common to those of us on the Autism Spectrum.  There is no more such thing as a “good” meltdown as there is a good tornado.  When one comes, if my focus is on the overwhelming tension rising in my body, it just aggravates it.

A meltdown is tough but I don’t have the words to say how much it helps to feel the Lord’s presence.  I can’t explain it better than that.  His Spirit is comforting me as if He is literally holding my hand.  He directs me during the meltdown such as where I could go or what I could do to help until the storm passes.  The reassuring voice tells me to hold on; it will pass.  If I keep my eye, or focus, on Him, I will not drown in the pit of self-pity and despair.

If I keep my eye on the tennis ball, I have longer matches and more fun playing against a wall.  If I keep my eye on Jesus, life is far more enjoyable and calmer than it would otherwise be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Aspie Quirks

My first inclination when I see someone in public that I know is to scurry for a hiding place.

I go berserk inside when someone is following behind me or I sense someone’s eyes are feasting on me.

A tiny noise such as someone chewing, sipping, or humming makes me cringe.

Although I despise talking on the phone, have anxiety when the phone rings or a message is left, I bought the newest of a brand of cell phones because I’m obsessed with Android apps.

When a social function is canceled, I respond with “That’s too bad!” and then I CELEBRATE!!

I don’t have to listen to talk radio to hear a conversation.  I have plenty of pretend conversation going on in my head.

I owe a debt of gratitude to whoever came up with the idea of the store SELF check-out.

Instructions: “It’s on the third shelf from the top on the left side of the closet next to the package of red, yellow, and green folders.  You can’t miss it.”  You wanna bet?  Just watch me!

I am obsessed with raking or picking up leaves.  I have a hard time finding a stopping point UNLESS the neighbor comes outside.

Most of the conversations I plan out in my head never take place.

I was such a jerk for saying that forty-nine and three months ago.

Quadruple check alarm before going to bed.

I’d like to make friends with someone who doesn’t like making new friends.  Weird, I know.

 

 

 

 

 

The Thorn

A thorn sticking into one’s flesh is a might uncomfortable.  I just imagine in my childhood exploring days on my Grandparent’s farm that I encountered enough thorns that I learned to be wary of thornbushes.  There are thorns on bushes and then there are thorns we encounter in our lives.  Apostle Paul knew a lot about thorns.  He had one according to 2 Corinthians 12:7-10:

And lest I should be exalted above measure by the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I be exalted above measure. Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 10 Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Paul didn’t say what the thorn was and so no one knows for sure the name of it.  The important thing isn’t what it was but how Paul chose to cope with it.  First off, he prayed about it.  Then, he continued praying about that thorn until an answer came.  The answer wasn’t what he had hoped himself.  The Lord did not remove it.  Paul accepted the answer without throwing a tantrum or cutting back on his mission trips to spread the Gospel.

Instead of removing whatever the thorn was, the Lord granted Paul the grace and strength to live with it.  Paul has a positive attitude by seeing this thorn in a different light.  Instead of seeing it as a roadblock; he saw it as something that humbled him and helped to make him a better Apostle than he might otherwise be.  In other words, it helped him from getting a swelled head over the talents the Lord did bless him with.

This thought of a thorn being a humbler makes me think of one of my country’s presidents. He wasn’t one of those born in a log cabin.  Quite the contrary!  He was born into wealth and privilege.  Even early in his career, he had his eyes on the presidency.  But on his road to the White House, he encountered a thorn in his flesh that would remain with him for the remainder of his life.  Its name was polio.

An unforgettable day for Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR) was when he couldn’t get out of bed on his own two feet. From then on, his legs would be useless to him.  I don’t think FDR would have been the president he was if he hadn’t been humbled by this thorn in his flesh.  I think his battle with polio inspired him to say one of his most familiar and quoted lines:  There is nothing to fear but fear itself.  FDR knew about fear; he knew about thorns.

He led a country through a depression and a world war.  He served in the Oval Office longer than his president before or after him.  But although the leader of the free world, he still had to have someone to put him to bed every night and help him up the next morning.

We all have thorns to deal with on any given day.  I discovered near the end of 2016, at the age of 58, the name of the thorn I had unknowingly lived with all my life: Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD).  Some call it Autism, others call it mild Autism, or highly functional Autism, or Asperger’s Syndrome.   My trying to figure out which of the names suits me best is as useful as trying to figure out what Paul’s thorn was.

I perceive the negatives of ASD are the actual thorns.  I say that because there are positives to my constant companion.  I source my passion for writing as an ASD trait.  I appreciate the compliments I received from my God-given talent of writing.  But I know that if I ever were to leave the Lord out of my writing, my words would fall on deaf ears.  I often think of myself as merely taking dictation.  The Lord gives me the words.

I don’t pray for the Lord to remove my thorn.  I’m thankful that at the right time, place, and way I received the knowledge of what this thorn was called.  I cope with it better now that I am no longer in the dark about it.  My thorn gives me empathy on my job as a substitute teacher’s assistant working with children who have similar thorns.

If it wasn’t for my thorns, I reckon I’d need many servings of humble pie.

 

Obsessive, Compulsive, and Autie too!

I wear a necklace around my neck most of the day.  The necklace is the “plain jane” variety.  It’s not for decoration sake.  I wear it under my shirt to discreetly hide why I wear it.  Its sole purpose is to carry my spare remote car key.   I wear it even though my main key is either in my purse or in my pocket.  It doesn’t make sense, logically speaking, to have two identical car keys on my person, but that’s obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) for you.  I’m obsessed with losing my key to transportation.  If I were to somehow lose my main key, I’d have a spare one on me…literally speaking.

I am compulsive with the location of my remote key.  It’s a repetitive irresistible urge that is against my own “thinking” wishes.  I make a mental note of placing my keys in one of the compartments in my purse.  When I later go to hang up my purse, what do I do?  I check to see if the keys are in the compartment.  Logically speaking, I know they can’t jump out and walk off.  But to get rid of the urge, I check anyway.  That’s OCD for you.

When I got my first smart watch, I was so excited because electronic gadgetry is an obsessive interest.  Having such interest is a common Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) trait.  My gadget collection keeps growing thanks to my overattachment to its items and thus, having a hard time of letting go of the old while bringing in the new.  But what I couldn’t have seen coming is that one of the smart watch applications would add another item to my OCD list.

It was the health application that counts my steps per day.  The default goal was six thousand.  If I stayed idle for more than an hour, I’d feel a buzz on my wrist with my watch displaying a message to get moving.  And like an obedient child, I would.  My ASD tendency is to obey the rules and keep up the routine which was stepping up to the default.

Since I started jogging in place, I found it to be a way to “stim”.  Just like rocking in a chair or pacing the floor, it is repetitive movement.  Stimming is one of a number of my ASD traits.  It may sound strange, but jogging for me can be more “soothing” than tiring.  Within a week after my smart watch came into my life, I was doing far more steps than 6000.  At the time I am writing this, logically speaking, I don’t need to do 20,000+ steps per day, but tell my OCD that.

Woe is me!  I don’t really know where my ASD ends and OCD kicks in.  Since I know I have both, I don’t reckon it really matters.  I guess it is kind of like having a set of fraternal twins.  Double the trouble, but a double opportunity to rely on the Good Lord and keep a sense of humor about it all.

 

My Take on the Spinner

I remember the “must-have toys” back in my day were the hula hoop, mood rings, and the slinky, to name a few.  I remember the cabbage patch doll rage when my nieces and nephew were in school.  Then, there is the Pokemon phase which as far as I know hasn’t faded yet.

It seems a new toy fad has appeared.  Amazingly, with all the super-tech toys on the store shelves, the new “must-have” toy is a simple one.   All it can do is “spin”.  Beats me as to why a spinning toy has spun so many fans.

It is so popular it has its own Wikipedia page.  According to the page, the spinner is a type of stress-relieving toy. A basic fidget spinner consists of a bearing in the center of a design made from any of a variety of materials including brass, stainless steel, titanium, copper, and plastic.  It has been advertised as helping people who have trouble with focusing or fidgeting (such as those with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), Autism, or Anxiety Disorder) by acting as a release mechanism for nervous energy or psychological stress. Experts were divided on this claim, with some supporting it while others disputed its scientific basis and argued the toy may actually be more distracting.

It can be debated as to whether it lives up to its stress-relieving application, but there’s no doubt the spinner is an eyesore to school staff.  I work in that environment as a substitute teacher’s aide.  Teachers don’t mind their students having such, but do object to having to compete with a spinner for their attention.

I am a member of two groups it is advertised as supposedly aiming to help.  I have both Autism and Anxiety Disorder.  I first bought a fidget cube, the spinner’s cousin, to see if the cube would help me with focusing and fidgeting.  Since it cost me more to have it mailed than its price, it was a small investment.  I was delighted the cube lived up to its billing.  I fidget away with it while at home.  I keep the cube in my pocket at work and fidget as needed.  Since it is easy to hide, I can fidget away with no one catching me in the act.

It is a common Autism trait to be more attached to things instead of people.  Well, I have become attached to my cube like I am attached to my favorite pillow and faded jeans.  After becoming attached to the cube, I had the urge to purchase a spinner too.  I reckon “fidget toys” is a new one to add to my list of obsessive interests.

As of this writing, I have had a spinner for two weeks.  It has earned a place on my list of favorite things.  I take it with when I go walking at the park, or fidget with it while I am jogging in place in my room or while staring at my computer screen with a case of writer’s block.

As far as the cube and spinner being distractions, that’s not a problem for me.  My Autism strength is being routine-oriented.  There isn’t a toy invented that will distract me from my chores or get in the way of following my daily routine.  I’m a “work first, play later” person.

In conclusion, I’m a fidget spinner fan.  It’s only because I have an uncontrollable need to fidget that I bought it.  The spinner isn’t for everybody.  I showed my spinner to a handful of students I work with who are on the spectrum and judging from their reactions, they gave it a thumbs down.  Some find it an annoyance or a distraction, but it is a soothing treasure for me.

 

 

 

A Crowded Nightmare

The nightmare happened on a day near the end of the school year for a 6th-grade boy with autism. There was something different going on at school that day. A break from their regular routine to attend a gym competition. For him, any change in routine, good or bad, can be another nightmare.

The competition was among the older grades. I was taking part by helping the coach take score. I noticed him coming in with panic written all over his face. He looked around as if he had stepped out of a car and found himself in a far away place. His world had been thrown off kilter. I felt empathy because I had been in a similar boat many times.  Routine is essential to me too.  I just have coping skills he doesn’t have.  I don’t think it was just the crowd, but the hustle and bustle of basketball shooting, frisbee throwing, and relay racing. There were whistles blowing and kids roaring with boos and applause.

The teacher aide recognized he was in sensory overload. She had him sit down with some of his classmates who were taking all the commotion in stride.  In no less than a minute, he got up and stepped out on the gym floor spinning in circles. He made an indescribable sound but a familiar one to those in his inner circle. This is his own unique distress call when he is potentially in meltdown country.  When he almost ran into a student who wasn’t steady on her feet, the teacher brought him back to the sidelines. He sat there for maybe five minutes. That was as long as he could take before getting back up and spinning once again on the floor.

This time the aide brought him back but she sat down on the floor with him. She gently rubbed his arms and hands to soothe and reassure him it was okay. Her idea worked and he calmed down enough to remain seated.

Although he could pass for a high school football player, he is a gentle soul. Even in meltdowns if he physically hurts anybody, it is himself.  After the last contest, she had no problem whatsoever getting him to go back to the classroom. He was the first one in line as his class walked back.  He was more than ready to return to the familiar place and resume the routine. His crowded nightmare, at least the one that day, was over.

I Want To See

The four Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John gives us a narrative of the life of Jesus when He walked on this Earth among mankind.  One of the things that gives me comfort and encouragement are the stories where Jesus showed compassion on people who in the eyes of society did not deserve such.

Jesus didn’t limit his precious time on this Earth only to those who were in step with society.  Such as He visited the home of an unpopular chief tax collector named Zaccheus.  He had a conversation at a water well with a Samaritan woman who had a sordid past.  He allowed a woman described as one who lived a sinful life to pour perfume on his feet.

In Luke 18:35-43, there’s a story of Jesus showing compassion on someone who was among society’s forgotten.  Jesus was near the city of Jericho where among the people was a blind beggar sitting on the way side.  The blind man heard the commotion of the multitude and asked what was going on.  He was told that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by.  He recognized the name.  Even though he was disabled and an outcast, he had heard about Jesus, His teachings, and miraculous healing power. 

The blind man cried out, “Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me”.  He was hoping that Jesus might be willing to heal him too.  It didn’t hurt to ask!  Those around him were not encouraging him.  Instead, they were doing their level best to shut him up.  I guess they thought Jesus had no time for blind beggars any more than they did.  They probably would have preferred the blind man had left so he could be out of sight and out of mind.  Maybe he made them uncomfortable because of his disability.  Those with disabilities in today’s world could identify all too well with the blind beggar in this story.

The blind man ignored the pleas for him to keep his mouth shut.  In fact, he just got louder with his plea of “Thou son of David, have mercy on me”.

Jesus heard the pleas.  He could have looked the other way and continued on his journey to Jericho.  Instead, he stopped and beheld the man who couldn’t see him.  Jesus commanded him to be brought forward and when he came near, Jesus asked him what did the beggar want.  It had to have been obvious he was a blind man.  But Jesus wanted the man to tell him in his own words what he wanted.  Just as Jesus wants us to come to him in prayer with our troubles even though He already knows all about them.  The man’s response was short and to the point:  Lord, that I may receive my sight”.  He simply wanted to see.

It touches my heart that Jesus didn’t tell the man, “Your blindness isn’t my problem.  It’s your problem.”  Jesus didn’t just utter words about loving thy neighbor; He lived those words.  He taught us our neighbor isn’t only those who looks, acts, and talks like us, but those who don’t as well.  It isn’t just loving those who are physically and mentally healthy, but those who aren’t.

Jesus granted his request telling him, “Receive thy sight: thy faith hath saved thee”.  The man’s sight was instantly restored.  He glorified God and so did the people who witnessed another one of Jesus’s miracles.

The man’s faith did make all the difference.  If he had listened to the crowd who urged him to shut up, he would have gone away still a blind man.  He took it on faith that what He had heard about Jesus being God’s son was the truth.  He believed Jesus had the power to heal him and stubbornly refused to let anyone stop him from calling out to Jesus for mercy.  

On my job as a substitute teacher’s aide, I have the privilege of helping students who are outside of the student body mainstream.  Some of them have Down Syndrome, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), or are blind, deaf, or depend on a wheelchair to get around.  I also have the fortune of working with kids who are living on the same Autism spectrum as myself.  I can’t cure them of their disability any more than I can tell my constant companion of autism to go away.

But I can help them with their classwork, clap at their accomplishments, hug them when they want one, and encourage them to play on the playground.  I can see them and let them know I do.  Just like Jesus saw the blind beggar instead of looking the other way.

 

A Damsel’s Answered Prayer

The name “Rhoda” may not be the first female name you’d think of if someone asked you to name a female character in the Bible.  She didn’t receive much Bible coverage since she is only mentioned once in the 12th chapter of Acts.  This chapter is primarily about Apostle Peter and his miraculous escape from prison.  Rhoda had a supporting role in the story.  She just answered a knock at the gate and reported what she saw.  That was the easy part.  The hard part was handling the doubt and skepticism from those around her.

Peter had been put in prison by King Herod who had James the brother of John killed with the sword (12:2). Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Herod had 16 of his soldiers to guard one man, Peter.  Church members prayed for God to rescue Peter from the hands of Herod.  An angel appeared to Peter and broke the chains off his hands.  Peter walked out of prison passing all the guards without any interference from them.  Peter went to the house of Mary the mother of John, surname Mark.

This is where the damsel, Rhoda, comes into the story.  She was one of those inside Mary’s house who were praying for Peter.  She perhaps was probably fairly young since a damsel was a young unmarried woman.  Peter knocked at the outside gate’s door.  Rhoda heard the knock and went outside.  Peter must have spoken because it says in verse 14: And when she knew Peter’s voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but ran in, and told how Peter stood before the gate.  

Bless her heart, Rhoda was so excited that she forgot all about letting Peter in and runs into the house to tell them their prayers had been answered.  According to verse 15 of this chapter, what she got in return for her good news was being told she was mad.  Perhaps because of her age, they didn’t take her seriously – a child seen but not heard.  Or, too, although they were praying for Peter’s deliverance, their faith was weak.  Maybe feeling a sense of hopelessness since they had only recently lost James who died by the sword.

I do relate to their doubts.  Sometimes I pray about something but without the faith that I should.  That the outcome is already written on the wall, so to speak, and there isn’t much of anything that can be done to change the expected dire outcome.  The church members were perhaps expecting the worst news that Peter would meet a similar fate as James.

Rhoda stood up to this skepticism by insisting that Peter was outside.  She refused to back down even though they didn’t believe her.  When she wouldn’t back down, they still shrugged it off with saying she had seen an angel.

Have you ever tried to convince someone of something you took on faith to be the truth and was met with disbelief?

I’ve told a number of people about how I learned I was living on the Autism Spectrum and how I believe the Lord brought it all about.  I don’t believe the who, where, when, and how was a matter of coincidence.  When it came down to it, the Lord gave me my diagnosis when He saw fit to give it to me in the way that He did.  Some folks take me at my word and are supportive but I have met some skeptics.  It can be discouraging to receive a less than supportive response when it is about something you are so enthused about as Rhoda was about Peter.

Rhoda did not have to wait long for vindication.  Peter continued knocking outside and when they opened the door, they found out Rhoda wasn’t mad after all and that Peter wasn’t an angel.  It doesn’t say whether Rhoda said something like, “I told you so”, or not.  She sure had a right to since they had accused her of being crazy.

This young woman set the example of praying with faith.  She wasn’t praying for Peter just for the ritual of doing so.  She believed her prayer for Peter went beyond the house ceiling.  She was thrilled to see Peter but I don’t think she was as shocked of Peter’s return as the other people who didn’t take Rhoda’s word for it.  They didn’t believe until they saw Peter with their own eyes.  Although they prayed for Peter’s survival, they had some serious doubt that they would ever see Peter again.

When telling others about the Lord working in our lives, sometimes we’ll be met with skepticism.  Perhaps even from people in our inner circle.  Rhoda, after all, wasn’t in the midst of enemies but with fellow believers.  We must stand firm in what we believe to be an answered prayer or a conviction on our hearts to do whatever even when others tell us we are crazy.

Such as some might have thought Noah was crazy when he was building an ark, Daniel facing a lion’s den for defying King’s orders by praying to God, and Abraham going on a journey to a promised land even though he did not know where he was going.  We know the outcome of these Bible stories.  The ark withstood the flood, the lions didn’t touch Daniel, and if you look on a globe or world map, you’ll find a country named Israel.