I have long considered myself “the average person.” Want to know what the majority of America thinks?  Just ask me.  I am the average person.  I am an average height, average weight, have an average shoe size, and my hair is cut to a very average length.  I live in an average house in an average neighborhood, and if it wasn’t for that second half of my third kid (2.5), I would have the average number of children.  Need more proof?

I had a pleasant childhood with limited drama.  I had no major hobbies or passions that drove me in life.  I did well in school, but did not necessarily enjoy learning.  I mostly read short magazine articles, but would have much preferred to watch TV.  I heard about people sitting around discussing their deep thoughts, and I thought “what for?”  I had the attention span of a five year old, and the only game show I had the skills to be on would have been The Price is Right.  Think you are better than me?  Well, exactly half of you were.

What happens when “the average person” is smacked in the face with the news that her daughter has autism?

I was forced to leave the comfortable life of the average person behind to become someone more than average because my daughter, Lizzie’s life depended on it.

My hope is that each paragraph I write will touch you in a way that will both allow you to evaluate your own life and encourage you to know you capable of more.  After all, if the average person can do it, you can too.