If You Pray For My Autistic Son
My husband pulled himself out of bed yesterday morning, quietly pulled his Sunday best from the closet, and went to church while the little man and I slept.
We haven’t been to church together since the beginning of our marriage. We haven’t been to church as a family in years.
And though I’m proud of him for making that decision for himself on such a random Sunday morning, I am simultaneously conflicted in my emotions.
I’m glad he went, if that’s what his heart yearned for yesterday. That’s beautiful.
Although my feelings blur when it comes to meeting in the middle, choosing a place that serves both our needs, and discussing bringing our son along to a service one day.
Might my fears be far fetched? Perhaps. But they’re real.
I fear others’ misunderstanding and judgment of his stimming and frustration, in a place meant to breed love and togetherness, and unity.
I fear the eyes that could continuously look upon us, while we look away to what we came there for: Comfort.
And most of all, my protective motherly mind fears the thoughts of others that we can’t control.
People “praying” for individuals like my son to be “cured”.
My son is autistic. He is not broken.
My son is human. He is not a project to mend.
If you pray for our sweet, non-speaking, autistic, miracle boy, don’t pray for his autism to leave him.
You’re wasting your words and time.
It’s not necessary, nor kind, even if you mean well.
If you’re the praying kind, instead pray for the world to better understand and include unlike minds.
Pray for his innocent heart to remain, as he journeys through childhood, no matter how long he stays there.
I ask you pray for the hearts of those around him to see his light, and joy, and worth, though this world was built excluding him.
If you’re the praying sort, pray for those that surround my son, and all those like him, for patience, education, and kindness.
Pray for his surroundings to grow in grace.
My son isn’t what needs fixing in this life; Of that I am certain.
Help us to preserve the joy and innocence that comes with this colorful, beautiful life of Autism.
We learn something new every single day.
