So, what now?
Two-and-a-half years ago, my son was diagnosed with autism. I had the feeling that something was going on with Miles before the official word from the psychologist, but I was not ready for the heavy journey that accompanied a diagnosis.
Autism is sometimes referred to as ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). Due to the nature of ASD, every person who has autism is at a different place on the spectrum. It’s been said that if you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism. In other words, each person and each family has a unique journey.
My journey consisted of a mourning process that made me question why Heavenly Father had given me this challenge. I mourned the loss of the life that I thought Miles was going to have; I mourned the loss of the life that I had hoped for him. I was devastated that life was going to be more difficult than what I expected, both for me and for Miles.
My life felt like it was crumbling apart, and I asked to be released from my duties as Elders Quorum president. I felt as though I had failed in my responsibilities as a priesthood holder. To add insult to injury, I was asked to step down from a leadership position at my workplace, as stresses from home and life were escalating. It was a low time for me, and I’m sure that I would have become a hermit if it weren’t for those around me.
After my wife and I received Miles’ diagnosis, we took a lot of personal time to deal with this life-changing news. We emerged stronger together than we ever could have apart, and we accepted that life would be different for our family. Even with the support and comfort within our family unit, I couldn’t help but feel like asking the world, “So, what now?”
Once we had a label for the elusive behaviors we’d been witnessing, we quickly realized that Miles was still the same kid. He is funny; bright; overly social; and cute as can be, but we had to figure out how to navigate life for a child with special needs. In a moment of complete hopelessness, we found help where we should have looked in the first place.
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Our ward is located in a small town 30 miles from our province’s largest city. We have a great mix of members from all over Canada, the United States, and beyond. The ward members are so diverse, but many (more than you’d expect) have close experiences with children with special needs. Our bishop at the time was a child psychologist. He was the first to suggest that there was more to Miles’ behavior than just a 2-year-old who didn’t like sitting still in church. As we investigated avenues of treatment for Miles, people seemingly came out of the proverbial woodwork.
A new family that had recently moved to the ward has a son with ASD, as did a member of our stake presidency. Other members worked with special needs kids or had family members with ASD or other special needs. There was no question that the Lord guided us to this ward. As true saints do, everyone was willing to help us, and that has remained true these nearly three years later.
The young women sit with my wife and kids in sacrament meeting when I am unable to attend church. A special calling was created to help Miles attend Primary, and the best part of all was when the bishopric designated a 5th Sunday for the families of children with special needs to tell their stories and explain how the ward could help.
Our ward family put their arms around us—figuratively and literally—and helped us know we weren’t alone. We went from being stuck in a rut and desperate for a way out, to being lifted and carried along so that we could thrive in our situation.
Our wonderful ward helped us out when it would have been easy to ostracize us and leave us behind. My wife and I agree that we’ve never seen as much love as we did when our family’s journey began with autism.
I know that not all stories end like ours when it comes to having support through challenges, be it a special-needs child, mental illness, same-sex attraction, rebellion, etc. The purpose of my post is to give hope to those struggling through life’s challenges. A ward family is there to help and lift. We need to allow each other to exercise our baptismal covenants “…to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9).