Goldfish, Faith, and a Very Loud Amen

As parents, we often wonder how much of what we model for our children actually sticks. Do they notice when we volunteer our time? Do they recognize the sacrifices we make because we love them and want to give them the best life possible?

Raising a child with a developmental disability is no different. It simply adds another layer, or in Noah’s case, several additional layers with occasional confusion sprinkled on top.

With Noah, we are constantly wondering: What does he understand? What is he hearing? Does he understand what we are asking him to do? Does he understand our expectations?

Often, I have no idea.

Getting Noah to answer a question can require persistence, patience, and sometimes a carefully placed threat involving Goldfish crackers.

“Noah, if you do not answer the question, you do not get Goldfish.”

“Fine. Fine.”

Then he answers the question correctly.

Clearly, he knew the answer all along. He simply needed to determine whether responding was worth his time. Apparently, Goldfish crackers provide the necessary motivation.

Recently, I have heard Noah chanting the Our Father in his bedroom. Picture this: It is 9:00 p.m. Everyone is settled in bed, the house is quiet, and suddenly Noah’s deep voice begins:

“Our Father, who art in Heaven...”

Noah has attended Mass at least once a week for his entire life. He has heard the Our Father spoken, sung, and chanted more times than I could count. Still, I wondered whether any of it had truly stayed with him.

It did.

Something about the rhythm, the words, or the familiarity of the prayer connected with him. Now, when he is alone in his room at night, he sometimes chants the prayer as he settles himself to sleep. It is part prayer, part bedtime routine, and part private concert performed by Noah in his deepest possible voice.

When I hear him praying, I feel proud and peaceful. I know the Lord knows what is in Noah’s heart, even when Noah cannot always express it to the rest of us. Still, as his mama, it is comforting to hear those words and know that his faith is there.

Of course, the fact that Noah chooses bedtime to share his prayer so loudly with the entire family cracks me up. Apparently, the Lord is not the only one Noah wants to make sure is listening.

These moments remind me that Noah is always listening, even when he does not respond. He is absorbing far more than he shows us. We might not know what will stay with him, when he will reveal it, or why a particular experience resonates with him.

Then, one quiet evening, he gives us a glimpse.

Sometimes it takes a threat involving Goldfish crackers. Sometimes it takes the quiet of his bedroom. Either way, Noah reminds us that what we teach, model, and repeat may be reaching him in ways we do not immediately see.

Has your child ever surprised you by repeating something you did not realize they had learned? Please share your story in the comments. We would love to hear about the moments that gave you a glimpse into what your child was thinking, learning, or carrying in their heart.

If this story made you smile or reminded you of someone you love, please share it with another family. You can also follow us on Facebook and join us on the blog for more stories about life with Noah, including faith, family, Goldfish crackers, and the occasional bedtime concert.