Bees in My Bonnet

 So what might one write when not quite in a lucid state of mind? What might I say when I struggled to breathe, to prepare my teenage daughter for her life ahead?  I thought a lot about death a year ago. I looked at my life and told myself, 'Well, I guess 44 years is a good enough life. God hasn't promised more or less. Who am I to say that is too soon to go?' Then, of course, I noticed that in Hong Kong they didn't seem to like the number 4 very much. They thought the way it sounded 'say' sounded very similar to the word for death: 'sei'. And in fact, to me, they sound identical. And here I had completed 44 years around the sun, and in my glum state of being, figured my life was rapidly closing up shop.  I asked one of the kids to deliver the laptop to me, and I was able to put together a few thoughts for Priscilla on her orientation weekend.  Here is what I wrote, thinking it might be the last thing she hears from me: Dear Priscilla, I so much wish I c...

 Ever since I was 11 and saw the movie, 'The Boy Who Could Fly' I had my ears perked for any article or mention of Autism. In Hong Kong, there weren't many movies that came out in English, so if there was one that wasn't off-limits for kids, we would see it, even if we weren't interested in it. The novelty of seeing a movie in English superseded our pickiness about content. I had barely heard the word 'autistic' before, and naturally imagined it must be a mispronunciation of 'artistic'. But the movie gave me another perspective. Because I had so many struggles with learning, attention, and getting along with my peers, I was fascinated by the insights I would find in an article or book on autism. I was fascinated that recognition was being given to the various kinds of people in world.  People God made.  People whose outlook was different.  People similar to me.  I could relate to some of what I read, and what I didn't relate to, I began to unders...