what Erik's been doing

I spoke to the director of Erik's group home last week.   She told me how he was doing.   He was well, which was good to hear.
   
She also told me about an experience that warmed her heart.   The week previous, she was walking between the 2 group homes, grappling with a lot on her mind.  Approaching one house she heard something and couldn't place what it was.   She kept walking and came across the front porch of Erik's house she saw him sitting on it, walkman headphones on, singing at the top of his lungs.  He didn't see her.  She couldn't make out what he was singing but every now and then she thought she heard "God" or "Jesus".  She stopped and listened and felt blessed.  There Erik was - singing praises very loudly on the porch - in a way that only Erik could do.   She told me "if I could only have videotaped that moment, every person we showed it to would be equally blessed."  Loved it that Erik was hanging out during the afternoon sending up praises to God.   I can imagine it very well.    Read a previous post about Erik's singing here. 

On the flipside she also told me how she had seen Erik's stubborn-ness come out one day.   He's got a reputation at his group home for being easy-going, which is usually true.  But not this day.  The Promise Singers had just given a concert and they were being fed lunch.  Erik had his tray of food and sat down, but not at the table that had been reserved for their group.   The director went over to Erik and tried to get him to move and he looked at her like she was asking him to do the craziest, hardest thing ever - and he was not going to move - he wanted to EAT his food.  (you remember how Erik feels about food?)  Nothing worked.   She said she only wished she'd had a Dallas Cowboy cap or something to place at the other table then maybe he would have moved.  That's funny, it might have worked.


But this reminded me of another time my mom told me about.  When Erik was growing up sometimes things didn't go his way and he would be upset.  So he'd take his little suitcase, put some things in it, and go sit on the curb outside our house.  He'd sit there.  Waiting for someone to come take him away from where he wasn't getting what he wanted.  We don't know who he thought would rescue him from his fate. (Batman? John Wayne?) It was good his little rebellions never lasted long.