The Same Will

I've gone back and forth if I should even put this on the blog. Questioning how much of my kid's stories should be just that...their own stories to tell. Who knows, one day I may even decide to delete this post. But my blog has been something that for the last 7 years (!!!) I have used as a scrapbook, journal, and place to remember.

So it feels fitting for now to document the journey we are on with our Will. Although the term sounds quite melodramatic, I do see how this is a journey. And an important part of a journey is getting to appreciate how far you've come. So here goes...

Autism. A word that conjures up all kinds of fears, stereotypes, and preconceived misconceptions. It's a word that is now frequent in my thoughts and vocabulary.

Will has not received an official diagnosis at this point, but it is becoming apparent that he probably falls on the spectrum somewhere. I still have a lot to learn and am only allowing myself to take in the information at very small doses. It's a journey, and pacing yourself seems important, i.e., I'm not quite ready to hear about everyone's tried and true therapies, treatments, cures, etc.

Without rehashing the last year full of questions, fears, concerns, and more tears than I can count, we decided to go ahead with an autism evaluation. The results felt like good news/bad news. Bad news is that there are definite concerns, but good news is that they want to get him in early intervention and then re-evaluate in a couple more years to see how he is doing.

I'm reminding myself everyday that to Will, there is nothing sad or scary about this. I'm thankful for that. The hard part is on our end. I've already heard countless success stories and know wholeheartedly his future is still bright with or without any kind of diagnosis. But at this point in the journey, I'm still working through the sadness that we even have to deal with this. I'm not sure many parents would choose this path.

But it's the path we are on. It could very well change in years to come. I could look back at this and wonder what in the world I was worried about. Or I could look back and realize this was just the tip of the iceberg. Unknowns are no fun.

This past week, I have clung to 2 Corinthians 12:9: My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. And I've learned something new about grace. We've been given not only saving grace, but sustaining grace. In Max Lucado's book he writes, "Sustaining grace meets us at our point of need and equips us with courage, wisdom, and strength."

As I try really hard not to project what the next 20 years might be like, I am fully aware of my weakness. Take any insecurities you already have as a parent, and then add these concerns. Yep, there is weakness. But in my same study about sustaining grace, I've been able to see how the Lord has provided courage, wisdom, and strength for me before. I'm confident He will do that again.

It is emotionally exhausting times like this that you appreciate so much the support of people around you. The ones that check up on you. The ones that remember big appointments. The ones that take the time to listen. The ones that find a special way to love your child. Words can't explain how much these things mean. I hope and pray I can be the same kind of friend. And I hope anyone reading this will be encouraged to do the same.

So for now, I try to adjust my expectations of what these next couple of years will look like. Instead of the preschool our family has been at for several years and absolutely loves, Will is able to go to a school with services and education tailored specifically for this kind of early intervention. This is something to be thankful for, I know.

And the other thing I know is that he is the same Will that was fearfully and wonderfully made. He is the same Will now as the day we took him home from the hospital. He is the same Will that can give the absolute BEST hugs. He is the same Will I can't imagine our family without.  For that, I am thankful.