My heart is heavy. We took the boys to church as usual; Matthew was very tired to start with. Then, in the lobby, he decided he meant to wear his belt with these jeans and we must go home and get it. I explained that church was starting in a few minutes. He had a meltdown. “No, don’t say no, I have to get it!” He began to thrash around the more I tried to calm him. He swore loudly, some very bad words. He even kicked the wall of the lobby, but thankfully it didn’t crack or even leave a mark. By now we had an audience. I was having no luck calming him; then an elderly white-haired lady came over to us, pointed to Matthew and declared: “In the Name of Jesus, be quiet. You will not disturb this House.” That was all. He was instantly as meek as a mouse, took my hand and we went in and took our seats beside my husband and Jacob. Matthew lay down in the floor and fell asleep. When he woke up he was fine. I don’t know what I feel now. Mortified, humiliated; grateful to the elderly lady who was bold (and she didn’t raise her voice, either!) I am nervous now about taking Matthew next week. I never thought he would lose control in church. I’m so disappointed. He brother was fine. Hubby and brother were both already seated and didn’t witness the meltdown. I love Matthew so much. I think he could knock me off the face of the earth and I would still love him. But I worry about him! He’s got to gain some self-control, and maybe he just can’t because of his brain being affected. Incidents like this are not uncommon with autism and bipolar disorder. He has both. I think about when he was a baby, so perfect and precious. I used to hold him on my shoulder and waltz in the kitchen, softly singing “Amazing Grace” which is in 3/4 time, just right for a waltz. When I stopped after 4 verses he lifted his baby head, like, “More please.” Without words. He had the purest heart I’ve ever seen in a baby. I’ve given up trying to figure out what went wrong—-vaccines, or something else. The divorce of his mom and dad? No, it’s a chemical mixup in his brain. When he is rude he cries afterward and asks for a hug, and says “I love you. I’m so sorry.” He’s 15 now. I would give my life to see him healed and healthy mentally. That’s of course no option. All I can do is keep on praying and loving him with all my heart. I can’t even cry, I’m so stunned.