abstract blur organic fresh fruits and vegetable on grocery shelves in supermarket store defocused bokeh light background
“Father, I don’t want to do this.”
After James finished his junior year, he had the opportunity to participate in a work apprenticeship program. He’d agreed, but as the time grew nearer, he dug in his heels.
Kids on the autism spectrum find routine comforting, but James’ disability leaves him almost paralyzed. This radical change from anything he’d experienced filled him with more fear than he’d shown before, and he gripped my arm as we walked toward the grocery store entrance.
“It’s not a big deal.” I kept my voice calm. “Everybody’s a little nervous during their first day on the job.”
“Don’t go away.” He pulled my arm tight to his side. “Please, Father, don’t leave.”
I gave his hand a reassuring pat. “Relax. Everything’s going to be fine.”
We took a booth in the dining area, and it wasn’t long until the program director joined us.
“Hi, James,” she said in a gentle voice. “My name is Christie.”
James averted his eyes and kept his voice low. “Um … Hello.”
Christie kept smiling. “What would you like to buy with the money you earn?”
He studied her for a moment. “I think … I would like to buy … a very good tablet.”
“This is how you can do it. We’ll see you soon, Dad.”
I returned five hours later at the end of his shift, and that became our new routine, walking him in to drop him off and going back in to pick him up.
Six weeks later, he showed off his tablet after church where our friends shared our pride in his accomplishment.
“So, James,” Bishop Leo asked, “what did you do at work?”
“I … straightened shelves and … cleaned the checkout stands.”
“What was your favorite part?”
“I think … I liked taking breaks the best.”
That’s my boy.
William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.