Purpose High
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Autism hurts. It hurts every day, every night. Weekends and holidays, it hurts. The pain is real and raw. When I received the first of two diagnoses of autism over two decades ago, it was as if God was in the room with me. I imagined Him there as the doctor's words hung in the silent space of dismay. I visualized God handing me a box, unwrapped and plain looking. Once home, I dropped to my knees, removed the lid, turned the box upside down, and emptied its contents all over the floor. God had given me a puzzle with no instructions. Bits and pieces of life and faith, autism and altruism carpeti...
Autism hurts. It hurts every day, every night. Weekends and holidays, it hurts. The pain is real and raw. When I received the first of two diagnoses of autism over two decades ago, it was as if God was in the room with me. I imagined Him there as the doctor's words hung in the silent space of dismay. I visualized God handing me a box, unwrapped and plain looking. Once home, I dropped to my knees, removed the lid, turned the box upside down, and emptied its contents all over the floor. God had given me a puzzle with no instructions. Bits and pieces of life and faith, autism and altruism carpeting the room like a human tapestry. I have laboured over the autism puzzle for most of my adult life. As the nonverbal world of autism spoke to me, I built a life from these scattered pieces. For me, autism has been a sacred teacher and a faithful friend guiding me to my divine purpose and true potential. Guiding me to joy, love, and hope. For five blessed years I poured the hurt onto paper and I called it Purpose High - Living with Autism. Come fly with me.
