When Everything is Okay

It's October. Sensory Awareness Month. So, I feel like I should write. Lately, though, my words have been few. Some days I feel as if I've lost the ability to string my words together. Everything seems so chaotic, separate and disconnected. My words have been a reflection of that. 
I wonder if that's what it's like for O when his body can't interpret the sensory information in his environment. Chaotic. Separate. Disconnected. 
Yesterday, I took O to the dentist. We waited. He had his appointment and then we waited some more. It was in the waiting that he was most anxious. In that idle time. In the waiting room full of children and their parents. As each name was called, he waited to hear his own. When would he be chosen? When would we get to leave?

There are many days when I forget. Forget how it used to be. When we first began our journey into understanding O's difficulties with sensory processing.
Things are different now. Yet, so much is the same. 
I still consider his feelings, opinions and potential reactions before anyone else's. I still evaluate each day - each circumstance - based on how I think he will respond. But, I also pray more. For him and with him. Yesterday, I talked to him about the power of Jesus and how it was within us, helping us to be brave. It's a lesson I'm still learning, but it seemed right for him, too. 
Not long ago I actually forgot to bring O's food when we went to my sister's house for dinner. What?! Maybe it had been a crazy day. Or, maybe it had been such a "normal" day that his dietary restrictions slipped my mind. Even though it had my husband scrambling to the nearest McDonald's right before meal time, it seemed significant that I forgot. It felt normal. That never would have happened before!
There are still areas of pain, though. The look of uncertainty before putting on a new piece of clothing or lining up for school. Resistance to trying new foods - or even enjoying old favorites. Creating rules for his toys, time and relationships that cannot be broken. Separation. Chaos. Disconnection.
But, even in the midst of those, God has continued to provide us with glimpses into the fullness of joy. Playing catch in the backyard. Riding a bike. Flying paper airplanes with good friends. Telling jokes at the dinner table. Laughing at his favorite books. 
In the weeks since school started, there have been many days that I've stood with O on the playground, waiting for the bell to ring. 
He says, "I'm scared." 
And, I say, "It's okay to be scared. You're going to be okay." 
One day, I realized something. Those are O's initials - O.K. So, I started telling him, "You're going to be O.K. Because you already are O.K." It made him smile. The more I said it, the bigger he smiled. Of course, as many things go with O, it has now become our routine - most mornings that I drop him off, I have to remind him that he is O.K. I don't mind this routine...because it's a good reminder for me too.
Maybe that's what I needed to say today. To O, to you and to me. That everything is O.K. Even though it doesn't always feel that way.