We know the holiday season is officially here when Christmas trees start popping up in vacant lots and in the seasonal aisles of our favorite stores. Tree lighting ceremonies are everywhere: The White House, Rockefeller Center, our hometowns. Many of us include a tree in our home, regardless of our faith, because it's just always been done.For me, the tree and its decorations have become a metaphor about parenting, about change, and about aspirations. I saw a new Hallmark ad the other day called "Perfectionist Mom" where the mother proclaims to her children: "this is your tree, decorate it however you want", but then struggles to keep that promise. I laughed out loud as the mother covertly moves five ornaments off a single branch to locations providing more "symmetry". I couldn't help but see myself in that.I do remember our first tree with a newly ambulatory first born. What a magnet she was as to anything sparkly! That year, only the top half of our tree was decorated. Unlike "Perfectionist Mom", my design aesthetic was not going to prevail. It was a glass half full/half empty moment. How would I decide to see it? As I pondered that, my eye kept assessing the barren bottom half.A few years later (with the cheaper ornaments lower down), elder sister understood her boundaries. Younger sister, however, did not notice the tree at all. There it was again: the contrast. Was I glad she wasn't bothering the tree? Yes. Was I pleased she wasn't interested in it? No.I don't think I understood then how much contrast is a part of life. Things we want often exist alongside the things we don't want. What a challenge it can be to simply appreciate what's going well and rejoice in that! Perhaps, like our children, we are wired to always want more. The contrasts seem to fuel the longing, and often, our actions. With autism, we often see our children's anticipation of the holidays build to such a fever pitch that the season itself is hard to enjoy because the awareness of its end is also looming.So, did my disinterested daughter remain that way? Not at all. Of all the wonderful teachers and therapists who have taught her and me so many things, I must give the credit for my daughter's holiday education to that purple dinosaur. Her interest became so keen that I was certain she had developed x-ray vision to locate those hidden treasures. What she lacked in verbal skills, she more than made up for in problem solving, One day I found my then 9 year old in the garage with the car keys poised to pop open the trunk to reveal Santa's stash. That was the day the workshop was moved off site.

The years of midnight runs on Christmas Eve to and from the home of my neighbor-turned-friend became unnecessary in time. But that era will stand out for the spotlight it put on the Christmas tree -- the patient receiver of packages placed in stealthy silence. My reward was to look upon my achievement in the golden glow of tree lights and (almost) not notice the strand that went out a day too soon. My evolution was clear in the contrast.What advice would I give to a younger mother with the benefit of my 21 years of Christmas tree wisdom? I would say that although autism creates very stark contrasts in the early years, and maybe for a while after, time will start to reassure you that nothing stays the same -- in a good way. There are times the gap will close naturally, though belatedly. There are times it will happen with great assistance, patience and practice. There are times that the need to close a gap will fade away.Today, two of my four children view the holidays as adults do: earning the funds, buying the presents, wrapping and giving. My other two have experience with the responsibilities of the season, but they are more aligned with the pure bliss of being on the receiving end. They will forever have a wide-eyed view of things. That's a contrast I never want to change.Next year, your child's wish list will be different. In subtle ways, your wish list (for them) will be different too. Every year builds on the last and your perspective can't help but rise higher. It is no wonder that the top of the tree is the focal point. Whether you choose to adorn it with an angel, a bird's nest, or a star; it is pointing to the possibilities of this season and beyond.Wishing You A Year of Possibilities Fulfilled.All My Best,Marilyn

Marilyn Lord is the Parent Liaison for ACES, and the mother of four adult and teenage children, including a son and daughter with autism.