The Autism Gospel - Learning to Speak

Not every child on the Autism Spectrum has the same difficulty with language. For this reason, the saying goes, “when you’ve met one autistic child, you’ve met ONE autistic child”. My child happened to have various forms of language difficulty. For instance, not only did Noah have dyspraxia which affected his tongue muscle and made speech a practical impossibility, he also had neurological processing issues that inhibited his ability to access the parts of his brain which control language and communication.

So when my friend’s children were babbling and cooing, Noah remained silent. This, coupled with his lack of eye contact, helped Noah present himself as one of the most stoic and solemn little people you’d ever meet. Our home was notoriously quiet. I remember my friends commenting on how well behaved Noah must be because when we were on the phone they never heard him. Of course, the reason they never heard him was because he never made any noise. Ever.

He would watch television and play with toys and listen to quiet music. Often he’d sit and listen to my niece and I (who hasn’t quit talking since she started) carry on a conversation. But it took Noah a long time to make that initial contact with anyone through language. One of the first things he would do is bring me his sippy cup and stare at my feet. I’d say, “Noah, would you like some more juice? Can you say ‘Juice please?’” In return, all I could get was a glimpse of the top of that beautiful blond head. Because he couldn’t nod or gesture or point, this is was what communicating with Noah was like for the first three years of his life.

Despite the desperate moments when he’d become so frustrated that he’d lock away inside himself, I don’t regret this time of Noah’s development. I always viewed it as a period of unique growth that Noah needed. It was as if he was taking in the world and deciding how to process it before he even tried to vocalize his place in it. I respected that. I still admire the quiet observer in him. It seems to serve him well.

It is this kind of “in-between” place that I find myself right now. I am between worlds, so to speak – no pun intended. I am between lives, jobs and destinies. So much like Noah, I am learning to take it all in and observe quietly.

So many of you have asked me, “Why quit your job now that you have a degree in it?” “What in the world are you going to do with a seminary degree?” “Do you ever think anyone else will hire you at a church?” There are a variety of answers to these questions, some short and some longer. But mostly I am just having an “autistic season” I guess.

I am, in some ways, locked away within myself during this season. I am coming to see it as a blessing from The Giver of all good things. Instead of being in the middle of the fray, I am quietly observing from a distance. Whereas before, I was writing, saying, singing or teaching all the right words, now I am simply listening.

In this time of listening, I am asking God to teach me, again, to speak. Not my old language, but one that is new. As a fallen being (a little more fallen than most some would say), I am ill equipped to speak of his majesty and greatness the way I’d like to be. I doubt it will ever be possible to achieve the verbal ability to disclose his greatness with any accuracy. Often I feel like Noah in that my tongue seems dyspraxic in its ability to speak with the words I’d like to use. I also feel that I can’t access the appropriate parts of my brain necessary to capture the ways I’d like to communicate his redeeming work for our world. His idea of Kingdom is so vast and beautiful that I am simply learning to hear it. So I’m listening and waiting to learn how to speak.

I am praying for the chance to learn the new language of this great love that surpasses reason. I don’t believe for a moment that I’ll ever be able to fully understand it, but I’d like to be able to speak about it a little more fluently. I hope to be taught by the Master how to access the parts of my brain and, more importantly, my heart that will allow me to minister to the hurting, the disenfranchised and the marginalized of society. Somehow during my journey this far, I neglected the opportunity to hear this language and I surely don’t know how to speak it.

I pray the Lord will be patient and extend his loving-kindness to me as I redevelop this piece of myself. When Noah was in this stage of learning, he was very restrictive about the people with whom he would attempt to communicate. I had the opportunity to serve as Noah’s primary translator to the world. With just one shrug of his shoulders or, if I was lucky, glance of those sweet blue eyes, he would reveal to me his need and I would then attempt to draw it from our world into his. It sounds tedious, and I suppose some days were longer and more difficult than others. But I will always remember this time as a gift. Noah has showed me how to hear, listen, observe and learn.

I feel the tables have been turned during my current season of life. Mostly I spend my days in reading as much as I can about God. I think this will improve my fluency some, but I pray that I will be gifted to retain a portion of this knowledge. I, too, am finding the value of simply listening and observing. I pray a lot – for peace, for direction and for purpose. I pray that when I am ready, God will let me speak for him again someday.

We never thought Noah was really picking up on anything in those early days when he was on the fringes of our world. But he really was listening and processing the places in which he’d been placed. What we thought was a pervasive developmental delay was actually, in reflection, a form of wisdom. So I’m praying that I can take a page out of Noah’s book and immerse myself in this autistic season. Just as I kept an eye on Noah during this season of his autism, so also, I know that I am not alone.

“I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go…” Genesis 28:15

Speak Lord, for your servant is finally listening…