Autism and religious inclusion

Do you love someone who is on the autism spectrum? Are you an autistic? If so, we need your help!

My daughter is autistic. She is in graduate school, studying world religions. She is also a passionate advocate for inclusion for people with autism. She is bringing these two passions together in her graduate studies by researching how autistics experience religious environments and faith communities.

She has an anonymous survey where she is collecting data on how welcome autistics feel at churches, synagogues, temples, religious centers, mosques--wherever people gather to worship or express their spirituality. She will be attending a conference in Toronto in November and hopes to present her findings about:

• how autistics are included in religious environments
• how the sensitivities and traits of autistics can affect their religious experiences
• what steps religious environments and faith communities can take to become more inclusive and welcoming

If you have experiences (past or present) that you would like to include her research, please consider sharing your thoughts in the anonymous surveys below. She will protect personally identifiable information (PII). Her presentation(s) will provide education about autism, summarized information from her research, and recommendations for being more inclusive. If you fill out the survey, share what you feel comfortable saying; you are not asked for your name.


If you are autistic, please fill out the For Autistic Individuals survey.

If you have a loved one with autism, please fill out the For Families, Friends, Associates survey.


Thank you!

UK trip and the view from the hotel

In August, my daughter and I traveled to the United Kingdom for a 2-week vacation. I have hundreds of photos to record all of the fun, beauty, history, food, and culture of this amazing nation. I can't show all of them (of course), but I will write a few blog posts and feature some of my favorite parts of England, Scotland, and Wales.

Today's post has a simple theme: the views from the hotel rooms we stayed in. With one exception, we could peer out the window of our room and enjoy the view.

London hotel, overlooking the River Thames. This was a great location, near the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and the London Eye.

Cardiff, Wales -- I'm happy to say that the road noise didn't awaken us!

Liverpool, England-- overlooking the Albert Dock

Glasgow and the River Clyde
This city is Scotland's largest, and it is an industrial/business center. We enjoyed the unique and varied architecture.

Carrbridge in the Scottish Highlands
This was a small, charming town--about an hour from Inverness. It was centrally located for the sites we visited in the Highlands and Isle of Skye.

Here is the exception to beautiful views from our hotel rooms. In Edinburgh, we stayed in a Holiday Inn. Our room overlooked the parking lot. Beyond the opposite trees was the Edinburgh Zoo. Although the view is boring, each morning, the noise of excited animals awakened us--a memorable kind of alarm clock.

We ended where we began, in the same hotel on the Albert Embarkment on the River Thames!

And now she leaves the nest

"...there really are places in the heart
that you don't even know exist
until you love a child."
- Anne Lamott

After 25 years of being a mom, I'm finally, really-and-truly going to have an empty nest.

I can hardly believe it. My girls have been with me or near me for so many years that I can barely remember my life before. OlderDaughter went to college nearby, lives only 20 miles away, and works at the same company that I do. BabyGirl attended a college that was a mere 8 miles away--and her apartment was a whopping one mile further than that.

But this weekend, she moves to New England--a distance of almost 700 miles--to attend graduate school. Now don't get me wrong, I am proud of her. Delighted for her! Contrary to what she might believe, the world will be a better place because of the energy, determination, and heart that she is putting into her chosen vocation.

Yet it's hard to see her go. To watch her spread her wings. To know that my job is mostly done.

I began my career as a YA author, in part, to hold conversations with my daughters. When lectures failed to communicate my hopes and fears for them, I found a way to show them how I felt by telling stories.

Today's technology has made communication so much easier than when I was spreading my wings. After I left the nest, it was a challenge for my mother to stay in touch. That won't be true for me. I can call, text, Skype, and chat any time of day or night. I can fly to BabyGirl's side in a matter of hours--if she asks. But from this week forward, life will forever be different. Exactly the way it's supposed to be.

I'll miss her. Fortunately, I'm confident that distance is no match for a mother's love.

"But kids don't stay with you if you do it right.
It's the one job where, the better you are,
the more surely you won't be needed in the long run."
- Barbara Kingsolver 

Random images - Canada

Summer 2015: I cruised through Canada, from Montreal to Boston on the Saint Lawrence Seaway. Here are a few random images from that trip.

Prince Edward Island-- I've just met Anne of Green Gables.

A chateau in Quebec City. You can see the funicular on the cliff, for transporting people from the lower city to the upper city. (I'm scared of heights, so the funicular trip was done with eyes closed.)

Landing in Montreal at night

Random images - great nieces

I visited my niece and her family in Alabama this summer.  Her two oldest daughters allowed me to braid their hair.

This may seem like an unremarkable event, but really it isn't. I love to braid hair. You would think--given I have two girls of my own--that I've had numerous opportunities to braid hair. You would be wrong.

For reasons unknown to me, my daughters were never particularly interested in letting me do anything frou-frou with their hair. Sigh.

Here are shots of my two beautiful great-nieces. (Trust me, they are beautiful from every viewpoint.)

On the same trip, I saw another niece (still "great" but not in the relative sense) and I braided her hair too. I have my fix taken care of for a while.


I must mention that I've recently had a birthday, and Older Daughter let me braid her hair. Simple gifts are the best!

New Years un-resolutions

I hate New Year's resolutions. I never keep them, so why bother?


For my first post of 2016, I'll post the things I am resolved not to worry about.


I will not worry about weight loss.

• I need to lose weight. Always. But I'm not going to focus on a number. Goals haven't worked in the past. I'll just promise to eat better and see what happens.

  
I will exercise as much as I can stand.

• Maybe I'll exercise more than I did in 2015. Maybe not. I bought a FitBit to track my steps since I'm serious about getting healthier. But no goals for exercise. I'll strive to do my best, whatever that is.

 I will not sign up for any challenge about the number of books I read.

• I read a lot. 100+ books in 2015. I'm not sure precisely how many, nor do I care. Part of the pleasure of books is to read as much as I want, when I want. That sounds like a pretty good plan for 2016.

I won't estimate how many books I can write.

• I write slowly. Very slowly. Two books a year are a stretch for me. I'm contracted in 2016 for three, and they're already in various stages of completion. I resolve to finish them. I resolve to write the best quality stories I can. Anything more than that is a bonus.

So there you are. I want to be healthier, read more, and write well. But no pressure, 'cause I work better without it.

Oh, wow, I've just thought of something that I will resolve to do.


I will travel as much as I can afford.

• This photo is from a trip to Costa Rica. I like palm trees, beaches, and the ocean. I think my next trip should be to Hawaii. Yeah.

Spoiling my kids

Younger Daughter attends a college about ten miles away. In theory, I can see her whenever she likes. I texted her a few days ago to meet for dinner and then go grocery-shopping (my treat, of course).

As we were walking around Krogers, picking up items to stock for her apartment, we had this conversation.

Her: You spoil your kids.
Me: Yes, I do.
Her: You're admitting it?
Me: Yes, I am. I spoil you, and I'm proud of it.
Her: Don't most people think spoiling kids is a bad thing?
Me: Probably. But if something ever happens to me, remember us just like this. Laughing. Talking. Being spoiled.

I was in an airport last week, preparing to fly home from a visit to see my parents. The lady behind me in line was flying home from a funeral--for her 24-year-old daughter.

Over the past week, I've been thinking a lot about that lady. I'm sure she would love the opportunity to go grocery-shopping with her daughter one more time. To text whenever they wanted. To talk and laugh. To indulge each other with love.

That grieving mom has my deepest sympathies, but she also has my gratitude. In this holiday season, she's reminded me what my priorities should truly be. May I never forget that gift.

Yes, I spoil my kids. No apologies.

Thanksgiving in the 21st century

In Whispers from the Past, there is a scene where (late in the book) Susanna is thinking about Thanksgiving. In the 19th century, it would've been just another day. In the 21st century, she knew that Mark would be celebrating a national day of thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday in November.

A holiday of thanksgiving has had an interesting history in North America.  Canada began to celebrate it first, as early as the late sixteenth century. Today, their official Thanksgiving occurs in October.

In the United States, we often commemorate Thanksgiving in recognition of a feast between Native Americans and Pilgrims from the early seventeenth century. But the first national celebration didn't come until George Washington proclaimed it in 1789. Even then, the holiday didn't really stick.  There were three more national proclamations in the 1790s, but no more until the 1810s.

After a great deal of lobbying by Sarah Josepha Hale (author of "Mary Had A Little Lamb"), Abraham Lincoln created a national holiday on the final Thursday of November. It wasn't until Franklin Roosevelt that the US started to celebrate Thanksgiving as we do today--on the fourth Thursday in November.

Waiting our turn

For many families, Thanksgiving means hours of cooking, lots of football games, and a week of leftovers. But not for mine. 

While I was pregnant with my first daughter, my husband and I decided to eat our Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant. We absolutely loved it. No angst about getting things ready in time. No over-eating. No dishes to wash. No refrigerator full of stuff to throw out soon.

We loved this simple meal so much that we've kept that tradition nearly every year since. 

Turkey, dressing, yams, and sweet tea!

For us, Thanksgiving dinner involves standing in line (with hundreds of other new friends) while waiting to eat at our favorite restaurant. And we've acquired an entourage. Now that both of our daughters are in their 20s, we include many of their friends in our feast. (And we always leave a big tip for the wait staff and cooks who have made our day!)

I hope your holiday has been as much fun as ours--and that you have many blessings in the coming year.

The making of a makeover

The Raleigh News & Observer has had a Refresh Your Style column for the past 7 years. The column will end in August, and I am its final makeover.

I'd volunteered over a year ago, but a lot of other people had put their names on the list too. When the stylist/columnist, Sheon Wilson, contacted me in July, I was thrilled to hear that I'd been selected for a makeover. To be the last one? That was bittersweet. It's wonderful to be the final person for this experience, but I'm sorry for all the others who won't.

One of Sheon's first questions was: why do you need your style refreshed?

My answer is all about my second career. I've worked in the software industry since college (and still do, part-time). I wear yoga pants and T-shirts to the office. As an author, I love meeting with my readers at author events. Whether I'm at a school, library, or bookstore, I want to be approachable, look good, and feel comfortable (because some of those events can last awhile.)

So here we go. A few photos to document my makeover from Geek to YA Author in August 2015.

Makeover Day 1: The first day started out with a Before shoot by staff photographer Juli Leonard at the newspaper's office in downtown Raleigh. Later that afternoon, Sheon and I hit 2 stores to pick out new clothes-- Lane Bryant in Durham and Dina Porter in Chapel Hill.(And yay, the lovely ladies at Dina Porter's gave me 3 tops as a gift!)

Makeover Day 2: I am at the Samuel Cole Salon in North Raleigh for a new style. My hair stylist is Katie Manselle. She was amazing, listening to my ideas before suggesting some of her own. Within minutes, I was ready to trust her to do the right thing with my hair.

My hair is silver on top, and I wanted it to stay that way. So Katie put on a glaze to brighten the silver and give it a shine.

After the cut, my hairstyle has wispy bangs, a contoured back, and these gorgeous sides that can be fluffed out for a fun look or tucked behind the ears for something a little more serious.

Makeover Day 3: I returned to the Samuel Cole Salon on the day of the After photo shoot. Here's a selfie with the makeup artist, Jenny.

Katie restyled my hair so that it would be fun-and-flirty for the photo shoot.

The image you see here (to the right)? This almost never happens! I do not like to have my photo taken (which made the 2 photo shoots way outside my comfort zone.) To take a photo of myself, especially of me alone? Virtually unheard of. But I really needed to capture how I looked after walking out of the salon. I loved what the salon team did for me!

And here is she--Sheon Wilson, my miracle worker. She helped me select several outfits that I wouldn't have tried on my own. She found the perfect jewelry and shoes to complement those outfits. And she helped me grow to understand that a person can be beautiful at any age or size!

Once the After shoot was over, I drove back to my day job office and found Hubs (who works there too). He took a couple of not-so-candid shots of me--because I was completely rocking that denim jacket and skinny (ahem) jeans.

Check out the before and after!

New stage for this mom

I have a lot of roles to play in my life. Writer, facilitator, trainer, daughter, sister, friend, wife. One of my favorite roles is being a mother. I have two of the most amazing daughters ever born (and I say that with absolutely NO bias :)

Today marks a shift in my responsibilities as a mom, because my younger daughter turns 20. She has left her teenage years behind, which means I am parenting teens no more.

Both girls are twenty-something now. Will they need me less? Of course. They're adults, making their own way, discovering what life has to offer them.

Yet I can't help but take this chance to say how proud I am of my birthday girl. She has way more friends (of every size, shape, color, age, and creed) than I ever had. There is a higher purpose for her life, toward which she strides with grace and intelligence. She reaches out to the world around her with tolerance and curiosity. She belongs.

It is difficult in the modern era to raise kids. There are so many choices, temptations, obstacles, and dangers. Hubs and I were committed to being the best parents we could be. Each of our little girls arrived with a unique set of qualities. It was our job to celebrate their strengths, minimize their weaknesses--and otherwise, get out of the way.



I cannot begin to describe how thrilling it has been to see Baby Girl launch from the nest and soar. She is nothing like we imagined, and everything we could have hoped for. Happy birthday, sweetheart!

I'll close with a quote from Anita Diamante in The Red Tent. I couldn't have said it better.

“Just as there is no warning for childbirth, there is no preparation for the [first] sight of a ... child.

There should be a song for women to sing at this moment, or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name the moment.”

Canada trip

I have just returned from a 10-day vacation in Canada. Here are a few photos of the beautiful places we visited.

Night Landing

We spent our first 2 days in Montreal.

Lunch on Rue St Denis

Basilica Notre Dame

Quebec City was next. Here is a view of the Chateau Frontenac. (That is a funicular that you see, and I rode it, eyes closed the whole way.)

Prince Edward Island was our destination on the fourth day. Here is St Dunstan Basilica in Charlottetown. And below is the front lawn of the house that helped to inspire Anne of Green Gables.

Cape Breton boasts the world's largest fiddle.

And lastly, here is my beautiful daughter contemplating the waves on a foggy day in Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia.

A day for remembering

Today is Memorial Day in the United States, a day to think on the human cost of conflict.  So I'll keep it brief and eloquent by posting the words to the fourth stanza of The Star-Spangled Banner by Francis Scott key.

O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation.
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our Trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Iris in bloom

Iris is my favorite flower. They are blooming right now. It won't be much longer before they disappear for another year.

I'm feeling really thankful for my grandmother Lacey. She gave me some of the bulbs. It allows me to remember her each year.

I'm grateful to the guy who helps us take care of our lawn. He keeps the yard so beautiful that it can be the perfect backdrop to my irises that only show up briefly in the spring.

I had a not-so-good day at the office. It's nice to come home to something that makes me smile!

To sir with love

A friend of mine passed away this week. There is a hole now, in the universe, where once he stood.

I never learned his first name. Seems strange, doesn't it? I called him Mr. D on occasion. But mostly I called him sir.

His daughter has been my friend since high school. I haven't seen Sir since her wedding. I've thought of him often, though. He has my books (with my signatures) so I like to think that he's thought of me, too. (I mentioned to his daughter recently that I didn't know her father's name. We both agreed it was fine to leave it that way.)

On the surface, Mr. D might have seemed like the stereotypical 70's father. In those days, fathers were somewhat distant. They worked. They grilled over charcoal. They mowed lawns and meted out discipline to kids who were generally well-behaved anyway.

But not this man. No, he had more depths than that. He was so very kind. The first time that I went to a sleepover with his daughter, I awakened early and stumbled out to the kitchen. He was drinking coffee and reading the paper. Silently, graciously, he poured me a cup and handed me the front page.

That became our little ritual whenever I visited.  Even if my friend and I stayed up until 3 AM talking, I would blast myself out of bed early so that Mr. D and I could have our morning coffee together.  It was a little thing, a small oasis of companionship between a "70s dad" and a teen girl who should've been outside his notice. But in those shared cups of coffee, I felt like I mattered. And I've never forgotten.

In today's world, that small oasis can never be repeated. We've become too jaded, too suspicious, too careful to permit such relationships. I understand the necessity to protect our kids. I also mourn all of the lost opportunities to matter.

Good-bye, sir, and thank you.

Fave restaurant

My teen daughter and I went to one of our favorite restaurants for lunch. The IRIS is located inside the North Carolina Museum of Art. The food is delicious, the presentation is gorgeous, and you get to leave through the Rodin Sculpture Gallery!

Here are our desserts and beverage.

My blueberry-mango crumble

Daughter's Lemon Cheesecake

Fresh lemonade

Yes, it was a happy meal.

If you've read A Whisper In Time, you may have noticed that Susanna and Mark have a picnic date on the grounds of the NC  Museum of Art.  Just in case, here's a little reminder from that scene:

We biked on the greenway to the Museum of Art and followed it past the buildings as it wound through their outdoor garden of artwork. We continued up a hill and down into a valley, swallowed by a lovely forest. Once we crested the next hill, we left the pavement and locked our bikes.

Mark carried the basket with one hand and clasped mine with the other. We found the perfect spot high on the ridge, cool and fragrant with pine. Glimpses of the museum’s manicured grounds stretched below us...
 
“Mark.” I stared straight ahead, arms wrapped about my knees. “Have you been on picnics before?”
 
“A lot.” He reached up to wrap a stray curl from my ponytail around his finger. “But…this is the first time I’ve been on a picnic date.”
 
That pleased me. “Do you know what happens on a picnic date?”
 
“Whatever you want.”
 
“I don’t know what I want.”
 
“No problem. I have plenty of ideas.” His fingers slipped to my cheek, cupped it gently, and turned me toward him. “Kiss me.”
 
I braced a hand on his chest, the muscle hard and smooth beneath the fabric of his shirt. Our mouths clung briefly and then released.
He smiled lazily at me. “That is official picnic behavior.”
 
“Indeed? Picnics involve kissing?"
 
“The two-person kind of picnic does.” He urged me back against the blanket. I shivered with anticipation and uncertainty, but all thought fled at the slide of his lips over mine.

Okay, I can't promise any official picnic behavior if you go there, but I can promise beautiful works of art, and yummy food if you stop by Iris.

Mark likes it so well that there will be visit to Iris in Whispers From The Past.

Legacy

In the USA, it's Mother's Day.

The lovely thing about this holiday is the opportunity to thank the generations of women who've loved and raised children.

I have an amazing mother--witty, talented, and capable--but this posting is not about her.  It's about two generations of mothers who molded her and my father.

Let me introduce you to four women from my family who forged their own paths and thereby gave permission for the rest of us to do the same.

Marianna, mother to my father, was born 2 months after the Titanic sank. Raised by her widowed mother and 2 older sisters, Marianna came into her own in the Roaring 20s. An artist, student, teacher, mother, and friend, she loved her kids, grands, and greats with her own unique brand of intensity.

While I was writing I Wish, I sought her advice about a scene where my heroine takes a class in 2-D art.

Me: What can someone with no talent learn in an art class?
Marianna:  Have her sketch her hand.
Me: Why?
Marianna: Hands speak, dear one. The wise will see past the skill.

Lacey, mother to my mother, embraced life with fervor until she left us at age 84, laughing and cooking at the stove.  She attended college, married the first time (not my grandfather) around 1930, and divorced less than a year later.  When I asked her how she found the courage to make that choice during a time when divorce was simply not done, she replied, "He was not kind. I deserved better."

Maude, grandmother to my father, loved learning about history and cultures. One of the original Oklahoma Sooners, Maude was a teacher, school administrator, and writer of textbooks.  She worked on her doctorate when it was rare for male educators to have them--much less women. After a faculty advisor warned her that Dr. Maude might have difficulty getting a job, she did all of the work but didn't accept the title. She drew the true joy from her achievement; the trappings didn't matter.

Ada, grandmother to my mother, was born in the late 19th century in the carpetbagger South. She was opinionated, droll, and strong. We called her "Big Mama;" she signed her letters "Big." Ada's connection with her identical twin Ida had a mystical dimension.  One day, late in their lives, Big Mama and I were sitting at a table in her kitchen. She looked up suddenly and gasped. "Something fearsome has happened to my sister." Five minutes later, the phone rang. It was the hospital. Ida had just died.  I asked my great-grandmother how she knew, and she said, "If you're close enough to someone, you just feel things about them."

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers and to all women who nurture children.  We, your legacy, remember what you have done and celebrate it.

Writing in the hospital

My daughter's surgery went well. She expects to be discharged after rounds today.

While we're waiting, I'm sitting in her room, checking out I WISH one more time before we send it to the printer for advanced copies (ARCs).

Yes, a writer's job is never done!

I'm a mom today

I began to write in January 2000. My first 3 or 4 manuscripts were not good, but I was learning. Just like any sport or art form--whether it is ballet, sculpture, or basketball--you have to take lessons, practice, and not give up.

Fourteen years later, I have two books in print with two more coming out later this year. It was a long, hard journey, but it's finally paying off.

I have two daughters, both in college now.  For that whole 14 years, they had to put up with a lot. Messy house. Boring meals. A mother who wanted to be left alone at night.  And they were amazing about it (most of the time.)

Dear Daughter 1 has a chronic illness. Today she's having surgery to manage some of the symptoms.  For the next two days, I'll be camping out at the hospital. She's old enough to do this on her own--but I'm a mom. I can't stand not being there. So she's humoring me and letting me show up :)

I'll take my laptop with me, and I'll be writing in the waiting room. It would be too nerve-wracking otherwise. So losing myself in a new story is a great way to stay occupied.

Enjoy A Whisper In Time. And I'll see you when I get back.

P.S. If any of you have ordered a paperback and it hasn't shipped yet, hang it there. More copies are on the way.

Winter wonderland nurtures writing

The east coast of the United States is in the grips of a massive winter storm.  I live in North Carolina, and we're not used to this kind of frozen precipitation. It is typical to see an inch (2-3 cm) of snow each winter. We had that much in January. In the past 4 hours, we've acquired 5 inches, and now ice is falling on top of it.

This is crazy weather.

For a writer, this is perfect writing weather. I'm curled up with a cup of tea, half-listening to the newscasters, praying for the drivers who have not made it home yet, and pondering how to start my next, shiny-new book.

Keep safe, everyone. In the battle between car and icy roads, the ice usually wins!