Today, my son still has autism. Every day for the rest of his life, he will have autism. But today, or rather right now, I don’t want to dwell on the difficulties autism brings and will bring when he comes home from school at the end of the day.
I don’t want to wish autism away, or long for “normal”, or play hide and seek with glimpses of the real Samuel peeking out during moments of great progress. I don’t want to wait in angst for my hope in “all things new” to be realized. I don’t want to advocate and grieve over the blindness of so many who hate who my son is and what he might do for harm instead of good. I don’t want to grieve over the lost dreams of what I thought our life was going to look like, or the perfect pictures of my son laughing happily and eating more than 4 different foods. No, not today. At least not right now.
There are times for each of those things, and one or more of them may present themselves and demand my attention today. But at least for now, at 9am in the morning, all I want is joy in the satisfaction of my God whose loving-kindness has been poured upon my head in His lavished grace.
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