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Paul's Prayers: A Mother’s Account of Raising an Autistic Son Kindle Edition
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For many of us in the midst of the autism wars we are consumed with fighting against scientific, governmental, and pharmaceutical corruption. But as much as I rage against the epidemic, I also try to be aware of why it might be that God has placed me and so many others in the middle of this battle.
Susan Anderson's phenomenal book contains passages which will take your breath away and humble you. Here is one such example:
We gather around our dinner table. Rob suggests to our son, "Paul, why don't you pray for us?" I look around at each face, guests and family. The food is good and hot. Each person prepares for the long haul of Paul's prayer. I note our teenagers' stirring facial expressions: What is he going to say? The smirk, thinking, Here we go, get ready for anything. As I read the nonverbal clues of each nod of the head, I am reminded that God doesn't waste anything. I think of this as the perfect training ground for my kids in learning tolerance, compassion, and humility. Paul launches with, "Jesus, thank you for this food, and help me know how to talk to people. Help me make good decisions. Help us to know what we're supposed to do about anything. Show me where you want me to live, and if I can build a house, and how to make friends and how to make conversation . . ." And he continues. Finally, we cross ourselves, and agree with "Amen." We believe.
There are many such passages in the book, and they speak of a path of hard grace which so many of us struggle with in our lives.
Among my friends who are not religious, they assume that because I try to have faith, that life must be very calm for me. In fact, it is quite the opposite with me. I have quite a quarrelsome relationship with the Almighty. I cannot understand why so much pain needs to exist in the world.
Recently I ran across some writings which compared trying to have faith with the story from Genesis of Jacob wrestling with an angel. The idea was that faith was hard. It is an enormous struggle.
I feel that struggle every day in trying to care for a severely autistic daughter, a twenty-year-old now, who is still in diapers, has trouble walking, and cannot speak. God has sent me a mighty angel with which to grapple.
And at the same time I have a seventeen-year-old son who just became one of the top ten runners in the 100 meter to have ever competed in the forty-one years history of his high school.
Each day is heaven and hell for me, with one child who must constantly be watched, and the other who is more self-sufficient than many adults.
In another section of her book, Anderson writes:
My son suffers. Sometimes I wonder how long a person can stay in the same season of life. I wonder how long he can stand this state of being. Can he go on like this-this restless-this wanting? I hope for a change in him. Autism is puzzling. This wonky-eyed boy who flaps his hands, talks to himself, behaves this way for reasons not seen by the naked eye. Everything Paul receives through taste, touch, sight, smell, and hearing is pronouncedly acute. For instance, it's cold outside and we wear mittens. Paul doesn't like the bristly feel of the yarn. He would rather feel the snow on his fingers, to the point of numbing. The television messing up with static and white noise? We might get a bit annoyed, but this garbled fuzz sets him off like a firecracker.
When I read passages like that I know the writer had not only captured autism, but also much of what is fundamentally wrong with our world today. You don't have to have an autistic child to feel it in your gut.
What we write about in this blog is the struggle many have with various aspects of the health care system which are not in alignment with principles of compassion and fierce concern for those who suffer. I know for some our brand of criticism is too spicy.
But what we do here is wrestle with the angel. I make no apologies for it.
Susan Anderson wrestles with the angels in her book, her great compassion for her son, her dedication to God and family, and a determination that it must all mean something, if not for her son, then for some greater purpose.
To those who have hardened their heart against such stories I ask that you open your hearts to the message of this wonderful book. There is enormous grace in this story and it will be a tonic to your soul.