COPYRIGHT.GWG.Destin11.LeisaHammett.com My 17-year-old skips down a sidewalk in the middle of Vanderbilt University. Ironically, it's the very campus we drove to daily for many years of grueling early autism intervention. That was then. This is now. And seeing her like that there, the word that lit up like neon in my head was: "Development." And then: "It's all about Development."

Hours earlier, I perused her school IEP (Individual Education Plan) and noted the levels of educational assessment: Kindergarten. Seventeen years old in body and stature, kindergarten in academic status. Sometimes I think her language is even more delayed. In fact, I'm sure it is. And then attitude? Teenage. No question. Square on. There were times as we crossed the busy streets of the nearby hip Hillsboro Village shopping district when she did not want me to grasp her arm, shoulder or hand for safety. She began "stemming" angrily as we left the area doctor's office because I chastised her before the medical staff for grabbing medical objects out of a tray. I reacted. Fearful for her saftey, fearful for the safety of the doctor's office property.

We play this little confusing game–confusing for both of us, I think. Mother and daughter. Adult and child. Adult and teen.

Earlier that day, I met with the baby-faced customer service representative at my local bank. I asked him about his infant girl. He'd met my girl when I was in to see him this summer. He said that as a lifeguard, when he was younger, he'd watched the love and dedication of special needs moms. All he was charged with was saving their lives if needed, he explained, adding that he knew that the moms were charged with so much, so much more. Development, I told him. Appreciate it. Don't take typical development for granted like most parents of neurotypical children. I don't. I marvel at it. I marvel at what development looks like when it is on time. When it's complex machinations actually happen. What a wonder our brains. Our bodies. I do not begrudge this miracle for others. Nor do I pity my own.

And all that said, all this stuff about autism. Well, we had yet another proposal to show GraceArt today. The fifth in a month, none of them solicited. This one while we were in The Village. We'll see if they follow through, but a manager who knew us from elsewhere said she wanted to give us her restaurant's gallery space for a month-long solo show. She has her second solo show scheduled in May, at the Green Hills Library. So, some development has gone awry. Quite a lot of it. But then, Grace's art, that's one of the many wonders of this odd thing called autism.

And the 17-year-old who skipped down the side walk? During her IEP meeting last week, her lead teacher talked about her happy spirit. "Grace arrives at school with a smile on her face. And, she leaves school with a smile on her face." And, when I showed the above picture from her cousin's wedding in Florida last weekend, my Shaman friend admired: "Look at the Light! LOOK at the LIGHT in her! If only we could all be Special Needs kids!"

Development. It's all about Development. But….Maybe it's about developing our hearts, our spirits, our sense of play. Maybe when we point fingers and label "delayed," it is we who have it all backwards.

What do you think?