With great struggle comes great victory
With great struggle comes great victory. If you sow
sparingly you will also reap sparingly.
For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of
glory far beyond all comparison. “If there is no struggle, there is no
progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are
men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without
thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many
waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it
may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle.”
I hate the struggle of autism. Now don’t get me wrong and
let me be VERY clear. I do not hate my son! I would die for him. Moses is not
autism. He is a happy, empathetic, loving, passionate kid. He is not autism.
That is not his identity. He has
autism. There is a big difference in the way that we say it. I never say that
my son is autistic because that is not who he is. That is definitely his
struggle but it is not his identity. I hate that it can make it so hard for him
to communicate. I hate that it can make it difficult for him to experience
rest. I hate that people misunderstand him because of it. For a while, I have
wanted it to go away. You see, when I was younger, someone once called me the connoisseur
of comfort. Autism makes me so incredibly uncomfortable! But slowly, God is
changing my mind and transforming me to see that I also love this struggle of
autism. Struggle isn’t something to avoid.
Last week, I volunteered in Hannah’s kindergarten classroom
with another parent. We were having the normal conversation that two moms have when
they first meet each other.
“So, do you have any other kids? Do you have another job
beside being a mom? How is school going for your kiddo?”
Regular stuff. Then we got to the question, “So, why did you
decide to put your child in this school?”
She told me the usual, “We did our research and really liked
what this place had to offer” and then she reciprocated the question.
“Well, I really wanted to homeschool Hannah and still do.
However after having my son, we decided that homeschooling wouldn’t be the
optimal environment for Hannah to learn in and we decided to put her here.”
“So, do you mind if I ask what is going on with your son?”
“Sure, he has autism.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“Well, I’m not.”
In that moment, it felt weird to have that as my first
reaction. There are many times that I have wished that Moses didn’t have
autism. Why did I respond that way? Over the weekend, it really had me thinking
about what has been going on in my heart and the changes that could be taking
place in my thoughts of autism. God has slowly, and I mean over the process of
4 years of appointments, exclusion and grief, been showing me how to understand
a bit of what the author of the book of Hebrews meant when he said of Jesus
that “for the joy set before Him, He endured the cross.” I never quite understood
what that meant but now I think I’m starting to understand.
Now, I’m starting to see a little down the road when Moses is having one of his hard weeks. A week that could be filled with regression in
potty training, more drooling, more tantrums, screaming, biting, pinching or a
meltdown every time I try to redirect him. Down the road of these hard weeks is
huge successes! Things like taking steps, jumping for the first time, pulling
up his pants, saying “I love you.” All things that we have been working on or
waiting on for years. Now, these hard times are reminding me that there is
great…no, ridiculously awesome ahead of us. For the joy set before us, we
endure and we even are beginning to be thankful for the struggle. Without the
struggle, we wouldn’t appreciate the victory. Without the lows, we wouldn’t
realize how crazy good life is. Without the screaming, we wouldn’t remember to
thank God for the quiet.
Maybe that’s why I said that I’m not sorry for Moses's autism. If he didn’t have autism, we wouldn’t enjoy life as fully! It’s funny
how most people think that because of his autism, we enjoy life less. I
wouldn’t say we enjoy life less. I would say that we feel life’s struggles more
deeply and maybe more frequently, but I would also say that we experiences
life’s victories more sweetly! I wouldn’t want to take away Moses's autism
anymore. What I would want to take away is my unwillingness to enjoy the ride
when things are tough. Man, I have so much more to learn!
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