When I look at you, I don’t see …

Autism.

When I look at you, I don’t see …

Behaviors.

When I look at you, I don’t see …

A Problem.

When I look at you, I don’t see …

An Inconvenience.

 

 

When I look at you, I do see …

My son.

When I look at you, I do see …

A fellow human being.

When I look at you, I do see …

My brother in Christ.

When I look at you, I do see …

A young man with great challenges.

When I look at you, I do see …

A young man who has to work hard every single moment of his life.

When I look at you, I do see …

Someone who is just as valuable and important as anyone else.

 

I will never understand those …

Who do not see in you what I see.

I will never understand those …

Who do not recognize your need of love and acceptance.

I will never understand those …

Who dismiss you simply because of a diagnosis or behaviors they don’t like.

I will never understand those …

Who walk away … physically and emotionally.

 

When I look at you, I see the child for whom I have prayed.  I never imagined autism and could never have fathomed the difficulties and changes that diagnosis would bring into my life.  But, you are still the child that I prayed and longed greatly for.  You are the answer God has given.  You are a treasure.  You are a joy.  You have taught me the greatest lessons in life I never could have learned otherwise.

You are important.

You are valuable.

 

For your entire life, everything has been a battle.  And for awhile, I thought all was lost.

I started to give up.

But Jesus stepped in and He began to move in ways that previously had only been in my dreams.

In the last couple of years, you have made great strides towards your freedom and independence.  And you have worked hard for every bit of progress you have made.

Just in the last couple of months, your ability to communicate has grown considerably…

And you were able to make a step of faith and ask Jesus into your heart.

 

The battles you fight daily are still just as hard.  You are walking through such a challenging time right now with a massive transition from a classroom and staff that were familiar and comfortable to you into an entirely new classroom with new staff and new routines.  It is hard.  Today was hard.   I’ve been watching you since you came home from school and I could see the stress etched on your face as you withdrew to the solace of your bedroom.  And yet, tomorrow you will get up and walk through it all again.

Have I told you how proud I am of you?

I am.

 

I admit I cried some tears today.  I’m losing a battle with discouragement and weariness.  It wasn’t because of you … although, maybe in a way it was.  Every now and then, the reality hits me that those who should be closest to us, are the ones who don’t understand you at all.  The ones who could be covering the both of us with love, protection, and support as we walk together this journey of autism, are the ones who seem to keep the greatest distance.  I will cry more tears I know but, as I have been reminded in the last couple of weeks, those who choose not to see you nor acknowledge what God is doing in your life are the ones who are missing out on the blessing.  It is their loss.

 

Tonight I am wearied by the journey and saddened by those who just refuse to see the real you.  Tonight I am grieved by the difficult day you have had to walk through and the confusion I know you must have felt.  Tonight it feels as though I can’t do this one more day.  Tonight it feels like the burden on my shoulders is a bit too heavy.

But tomorrow, I will remember who really fights our battles.  I will remember the One who promises to never leave us.  I will remember the One who shares the yoke and helps us bear the burden.  I will rise and remember that I can do all things through Him who gives me strength … and I will continue to teach you to do the same.

“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”
Philippians 4:13