There are many verbal autistic people or people who are caregivers to autistic individuals who feel strongly that autism is inherent to the makeup of self—to the essence of who one is now and forever. I hear this song often, and I believe it is true to some extent. I believe God knew exactly what He was doing when he sent Isaac here. And I believe he allowed autism to drastically shape his mortal life experiences. In this way, Isaac’s autism is part of who he is now and forever because through living with and in his autistic experience, he is learning and realizing a potential that he would not have been able to reach without his autistic mortality. However, ultimately, I view Isaac’s autism as a disability—NOT the essence who he is. It is something he has to work with and through and in during his mortal sojourn. Isaac is not his autism.
Isaac’s autism helps him feel a special and contagious delight in seemingly ordinary things. It probably contributes to his incredible ability to hear complicated piano pieces—their rhythms and harmonies and dynamics and then to recreate them by ear. His mind can capture details and lists of information that I can’t even begin to assimilate. His autism also creates conditions for poignant suffering. And it is this suffering that I want to speak on for a moment: I don’t pretend to fully understand the unevenness of the human condition. I watch Isaac struggle to communicate. I watch him struggle to connect. I see how his senses become overloaded. Too much to smell. Too much to see. Too much to hear. It seems his skin begins to boil and his brain seethes with that heat which then flashes in his eyes. I see him seeking some kind of relief from this physical and emotional turmoil through repeatedly harming his own body. The suffering he endures alone often strikes me as infuriatingly unfair and futile. I have had the desperate thought many times: “I do not see God in this. What good can come of this?” I do not understand many things about this experience. However, I do know that God is good. I do know that He loves His own. I know that Isaac is His. I can find rest in this Truth while holding space for my uneven comprehension of the purposes of suffering in His Plan.
This Easter we studied this Goodness of Jesus as we looked at His many “Names.” As I studied with my children, it struck me how limited language is. Words cannot express His depth and majesty—His limitless power and capacity to minister to, heal, and rescue each individual ever to exist as a mortal. We have so many names for Him to help us begin to comprehend His specific and infinite capacities in each of our lives. He is Everything we need. Everything Good. And He offers it all to us. I am so grateful for the hope we can have in Him.
And every Easter, my son Isaac is in the forefront of my mind. His life is a sacred and special gift. He is an incredible young man with endless potential. I can’t wait to sit with him one day—to witness him free of all limitation and suffering—mental, emotional and physical. I can’t wait to converse with him and watch him soar and rejoice in a perfected body. Jesus offers this hope to all of us.
I love this quote by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “I testify of the holy Resurrection, that unspeakable cornerstone gift in the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ! With the Apostle Paul, I testify that that which was sown in corruption will one day be raised in incorruption and that which was sown in weakness will ultimately be raised in power. I bear witness of that day when loved ones whom we know to have disabilities in mortality will stand before us glorified and grand, breathtakingly perfect in body and mind. What a thrilling moment that will be! I do not know whether we will be happier for ourselves that we have witnessed such a miracle or happier for them that they are fully perfect and finally “free at last.” Until that hour when Christ’s consummate gift is evident to us all, may we live by faith, hold fast to hope, and show compassion one of another…” (Like a Broken Vessel, General Confeence Oct 2013)
May we all savor the joy, endure the suffering and uncertainty, and learn to trust in the ultimate beauty of God’s perfect plan for His children.
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