Invisible disabilities are disabilities that are unseen to the world. Our kids appear 'normal' or 'typical.' And it can be an uphill climb, unless we rely on the God who sees. Invisible disability is not invisible to our God.
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 our search for ways to relieve my Mom’s loneliness, I learned four effective strategies. Their effectiveness makes me want to go back to my days as mom to a child with special needs and give them a try with him, too. Since that's not going to happen until somebody works the kinks out of time travel, I'll pass the caregiving lessons on to you.
One night, around 2:00 a.m., I saw a Facebook post: “We’re having an awful night. Anyone else awake? Is it just us?” What followed was an endless stream of comments from mostly moms talking about being awake with ASD kids. Here was a space where we could be seen and understood, be heard and not critiqued, and could connect.