Overcoming sensory challenges takes persistence
It was a beautiful day in Seattle: the sun was out, warm but not hot, with a light breeze and calm waters at the Kirkland waterfront park. We’ve been here many times as a family. But this time, we were there as the Famspring family.
At our booth, we spoke with individuals on the autism spectrum, parents, and other providers in the community, and it all felt very personal. All of us were there—family, friends pitching in, even our dog. Over the course of the day, Famspring families stopped by, teammates showed up organically, and we found ourselves having genuine conversations. It was, overall, a deeply satisfying day.
Huge thanks to Washington Autism Alliance and Arzu Forough for organizing this. We’ve attended their events before, but this one felt different. Maybe because we were fully part of it. After 3+ years of running Famspring in the Seattle area, we had real experiences to share. More importantly, we had the chance to listen—to understand how we can continue shaping what we do. This felt like a milestone.
Participating fully. For a small business—and for any family in the special needs community—”showing up” is never a solo act. It’s a collective effort that starts days in advance. We wanted our presence to be more than just a booth. We wanted it to be a thoughtful space for families to connect. This meant thinking about the details, from selecting the right sensory-friendly giveaways to having a shaded canopy. It was not all smooth, and planned – but we keep chipping away.
Such participation is only possible when family, friends, and the community lean in. While we managed the logistics of the booth, our support system stepped in to help us balance being both providers and a family that’s participating in the event. Individually, these tasks might seem small—renting equipment, setting up displays, or getting coffee —but they all add up, and we never mind asking for help. It’s a reminder that creating a meaningful experience for our kids and our community requires a village, and we are incredibly grateful for ours.
Connecting genuinely. This was very much a local, community-driven event, with many of the exhibitors being small businesses like ours, all trying to connect in a meaningful way.
Our son’s music therapist from AIM (Arts for Everyone) had a booth next to us, and we ended up helping them set up while catching up. We also got to know about organizations like Manos Unidas in Kenmore, which focuses on building disability-inclusive communities, and connected with teams from Kyo, ABA Centers, and Gersh Academy. Some were new introductions, while others were familiar faces, but all of it felt easy and natural.
As the day went on and more people started coming by, the energy picked up. Kids were drawn to the colorful mats in the front of our booth, families stopped to talk, and conversations started flowing.
One interaction, in particular, stayed with us. A young woman, probably in her early 20s, came up and introduced herself quickly, then began asking us a series of questions—what we do, where we are from, how many clients we have, and whether we could help her find a job. In the middle of it all, she asked if she could sing the Indian national anthem, and when we said yes, she began singing right there in front of our booth. She sang the entire anthem, and we just stood there. Spellbound would be a good word to describe how we felt.
Her father stood a few steps behind, smiling, and later shared that they had driven all the way from Olympia to attend the event. He told us how much his daughter loves learning about different cultures and how she has memorized the national anthems of several countries. It was a powerful reminder of how unique, vibrant, and inspiring this community is.
Interweaving work and life. This is, in many ways, the reason we started Famspring, and something we try not to lose sight of.
At one point, our son Manu had enough of standing around the booth, so my husband took him over to a biking activity in the parking lot. Outdoors for All had set up a range of adaptive bikes—another incredible organization—and Manu got some time to just be out there and enjoy himself. He has always dreaded putting on and taking off the helmet – even today, he was anxious. But he took his time and managed it all himself, thanks to constant practice. They grabbed lunch on the way back and brought me some as well, but I didn’t get a chance to eat it, since I was busy talking to people.
After we wrapped up at the booth, I stopped by a friend’s place nearby, had a late lunch, and went for a short walk before heading back. We returned all the rented equipment, and before we forgot, made sure to send thank-you notes to everyone who had stopped by.
What stood out to me was that we didn’t have to explain anything about our situation to anyone. The entire event was built around a shared understanding of special needs. This made it easy to be present, spend time with other families, and feel a quiet sense of pride in being able to give back, even in a small way.
It was an exhausting experience—planning, coordinating, being fully present through the day, and then following up afterward. This post should probably have been written a week ago, but, like most things, it took a little longer than expected.
At the same time, we wouldn’t have it any other way. Life is short, and the path we are on is different in many ways. We’ve come to believe that embracing it fully is the best way forward. What was reassuring at the event was seeing so many others doing something similar—building their lives and their work around their personal journeys, and finding meaning in that overlap.
It reminded us that we’re not alone, and that there are others walking a similar path.
