Orange Chicken

I read this post with tears spilling forth.

Joe B is a terrific writer.

Coincidentally (?) his blog came across my radar when I first started working at The Little Church, when I first became really acquainted with the world of autism.

I've read everything he's ever posted, on his previous blog, on this one, and in his book that I bought.

I could picture the scene at the food court. There are students at the school where I work who are as big as Mike is. Students who could hurt the women who teach them, though I've never seen as extreme a display of anger/frustration as Joe describes in this post.

But it made me think of the courage of these young women who regularly leave the school to take the kids out into the world, to have lunch at local restaurants, to shop at Target, to go to the grocery store to buy ingredients for their baking projects. Each time they venture out on one of these junkets, they take the risk of a behavior problem, an outburst of frustration coming from not having the words. At the very, very least, they risk stares, disapproval, disdain. And they go anyway. They're not "chicken."

"If you can't touch Brother Joe, then touch someone who is touching him," the pastor says.

Touching Brother Joe with this post. And giving thanks for those who touch the kids at the my school.