Nothing I did as a mom seemed to help my son. None of the therapies; none of the love; none of the counseling—personal, marital, and family. Nothing could “fix” our son. But daily, as I sat and whispered Maranatha, Come Lord Jesus, the Lord showed up. He let me know that I was more than Joel’s mom, Matt and Justin’s mom, Wally’s wife. I belonged to God. I was rooted and grounded in God. My life had purpose. My true self began emerging.
In 46 years of marriage and 33 years of raising a son with autism, we have journeyed from place to place. Some of the journey has been through deserts, some through rocky terrain, some through raging waters, some through places of incredible beauty. It has been through seeking God every step of the way, and in intentionally taking time to dig wells to collect the life-giving waters of His presence, that we have moved from strength to strength.