Category: Devotionals for Parents with Autistic Kids

Oh, be careful little eyes what you see.

I remember singing that song just about every Sunday when I was in elementary school, and when my mom wanted to remind us how we ought to behave, she would sing a bar or two. It even would pop into my head as an adult, while trying to decide how to spend my time.

Now that I have two elementary schoolers myself, I am trying to teach them the same concept – that what you see, hear and think about will affect you, so be careful. They don’t sing that song, so they will have to settle for my lectures running through their heads!

My son loves Lego.  There are some awesome sets out there. There are also some really cool sets that are a bit too dark for my tastes. For months he has been obsessed with several sets that I have repeatedly told him I didn’t think were good for his psyche. He would insist that he was just pretending with them, that he knew that they were just toys and wasn’t going to let them affect him negatively. Meanwhile, he was constantly in trouble at school for fighting, or goofing off.

About two weeks ago he finally took my advice and started obsessing (that’s part of being autistic – something is either an obsession, or isn’t even on the radar), about sets that were cool, but not so dark. And guess what?

The first week he was only in trouble at school a few times, and the second week he had excellent behavior. He was also more pleasant to be with at home. This then translated into him having more time to do what he liked – computer, and less time spent doing extra jobs.

God’s word proves true, yet again: )

Philippians 4:8-9

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

Work for words

It seems to be working – lately we have been giving our son jobs to do if he can’t control his mouth. Last week there was one evening where that snowballed a bit, and he ended up with quite a few jobs. After getting a few jobs for saying mean things like, “you’re stupid,” when I told him he needed to stop playing computer so that we could go pick up my husband, (his dad!) from work, he got upset about how many jobs he had, and couldn’t seem to shut his mouth off, ending up with 10 jobs. Some of them were very light, though, like, “go feed your sister’s fish.”

But lately he has been able to keep the job count a bit lower. I am so proud of him. I understand how hard it is to control one’s tongue,  as I was constantly in trouble for that same thing as a child. I never dared call my mom a name, but I did get into verbal wars with my siblings, constantly. I still have a long way to go on total tongue control, which means that my poor son does not have a perfect example to follow.

Thank goodness for Jesus’ example. Jesus wasn’t always, “Minnesota Nice.” He said things that were hurtful, unpopular and got himself into trouble sometimes. But Jesus wasn’t always loud and brash, either. Sometimes he used no words at all, but let his actions do the talking.

My prayer for all of us today, and especially for those of us with Asperger’s Syndrome or Autism is that we would be able to control our tongue – to really think before we speak. I pray that we would remember to carry our gripes to God, first, so that He can help us sort through what really needs to be communicated, and what we should just let go of. Often things we find offensive are just us misunderstanding a situation, or being far too petty. I ask God’s love for us, so that we can let that love cover a multitude of sins in ourselves and others, forgiving as he has forgiven us.

What will happen to him after I die?

Isaiah 49:15  Though your mother may forget you, I will not.

Once I had allowed God to comfort me over the losses I felt, there were still fears about the future that lingered. I should add that, I still need to seek God’s comfort on a regular basis, but the deep devastation that I first felt is not usually there. It does still rear its ugly head at times. But knowing that God comforted me once, gives me the courage to let him comfort me again.

The biggest fear I had was, what will happen to him after my husband and I die. Even if we are able to leave him money or set up a plan that seems like it will create a safe, fulfilling environment for him, how do we know that things will go as planned.

I thought of the stories of nursing home abuse, or of people stealing money from the vulnerable relatives they are supposed to be helping. I remembered friends who were horribly abused by foster siblings or stepparents. I knew that I would never be capable of setting up something that could guarantee his safety.

Then God reminded me that He had created my son, and he had a plan for him. Like His plans for all of us, it might include some tough times. God agreed that yes, my son might experience horrible abuse after I am gone, but that God was bigger than that and would be able to bring my son safely out of that. God reminded me of how the beautiful things he has done in people’s lives who have endured such difficult situations. He reminded me how much I was growing, and how much more meaning my life had because of the tough situation of having a child with special needs.

I am thankful that there are now many excellent services for adults with special needs, such as specialized employment and group homes. I am also thankful that my daughter truly loves her brother, and will most likely be willing to help him out.

I hope and pray that my son does not have a tough time after I am gone, and I will do my best to set up help for him, but I find comfort in knowing that no matter what life brings, God will not leave him.

All of our hopes and dreams are gone

 (My child has Autism Specrum Disorder? Devotional #2)

Romans 8:28  God works all things together for the good of those that trust in Him.

I had to let go of the dream of getting to know all of the neighborhood moms while watching my son play ball with theirs. I had to let go of the dream of having a house filled with the friends that my son had invited over. Gone were the dreams of making new yummy treats that he would be excited to try, or checking out new restaurants as a family.

The dream of a wedding to attend, grandchildren, even just a house to visit him at faded. Gone was the certainty that someday my husband and I would have an empty nest to enjoy. The reality that my life may never change much from what it is right now, was very depressing, to say the least.

You don’t realize how many hopes and dreams you have for yourself and your children, until you are forced to let them go. You don’t realize how much of your own joy you have tied up in what you think your children will become.

The only dream I had left was the promise that God works all things out for the good of those who trust in him. He reminded me of all of the people who lived fulfilled, but very different lives, such as Mother Theresa, Amy Carmichael, and numerous other heroes of the faith. They may not have had the home in the suburbs, the 2 kids and the 7 grandkids, but they were more fulfilled than most. I just had to adjust my view from the America Dream, to God’s dream for us.

Though it was still hard to hear about how well everyone else’s son was doing in T-ball, while mine cried because he hated it so much, I actually began to feel a bit honored that God would entrust our family with the challenge of living counter-culturally in such an obvious way.

I pray that you would be able to get a glimpse of the good that God has for you in the midst of this very difficult situation. And if you can’t see any good right now, remember that God does not break His promises, so keep holding on. He will work things for good, because He promised He would.

It feels like our son has died.

(My child has Autism Specrum Disorder? Devotional #1)

Psalm 23:4  Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for your rod and your staff, they comfort me.   

The son we had grown to know and love seemed to disappear. He was no longer just the bright boy who refused to use his words, the boy who had amazing hearing and a memory that wouldn’t quit and who was just too sage to speak his mind.

He was no longer just the boy with the infectious laugh that everyone couldn’t help but giggle with, even when they had no idea what was funny. Gone was the guy who just loved to shoot baskets, throw rocks into the river and roll bocce balls for hours at a time.

Our son seemed dead. Instead, we were given a boy we hardly knew. One that could talk but wouldn’t, but not just because he was being sage or stubborn, but because it was actually difficult for him. A boy who didn’t throw rocks or roll bocce balls on end just because he enjoyed it, but because he had a disability that made it difficult for him to stop and change what he was doing.

Instead of seeing our son as quirky, but whole, I now saw how broken he was. Thank goodness for my husband, who is more of a rose-colored-glasses, glass-half-full sort. I think he was able to keep a better perspective on things than I. My heart was truly broken.

Though I had suspected this reality since he was six-months old, having to come face-to-face with the fact that I would never be the mother of a “normal” son, required a lot of letting go.

The only thing that got me through this difficult time was Psalm 23. As I walked through the house I could see the deep canyons walls on either side of me. The path I was on was dark, with no sign of the valley ending. Having the promise, that God would comfort me brought me through to the other side, and it will bring you through, too.