Last night, after narrowly avoiding a meltdown at church, Gideon put his head down on his knees said, “my brain is doing whatever it wants to do. It’s not listening to me.”
He is trying so hard, y’all.
And my heart breaks. I rub his back and sit with him. God, what do I do? What do I say?
I’d just whisked him out of a sermon preceding the Lord’s Supper. What happened? Earlier he’d been telling some friends that were newer to church what the service would look like, and remarking that it would “be calm and quiet.” He was looking forward to it.
We talk, and he tells me that a kid from school said a mean thing to him.
We talk more, and I learn that he’s sad that many kids he grew up with are different than they used to be, and that school is different, too. That loud places are getting harder to be in. That he hopes he can get back on his previous medication, so that he “can get his life back.”
I remember that I had gotten onto him for a very justifiable reason right before church. Although I remained calm part of the time, part of the time I didn’t.
I’m trying, God. He’s trying. Help us. This boy needs Your wisdom, not mine.
I pray again for wisdom, reminding myself that it’s a promise He will give generously to all those who ask.
I hold him, and he holds me. This boy has taught me so much in his 10 years. How else will God use him to teach and grow me?
My phone chimes, and David lets us know the elements are about to be given out, if we are able to make it. Gideon stands up resolutely and tells me that he doesn’t want me to miss it.
My heart breaks more.
And we walk back into the service, passing by everyone who saw our abrupt and not-so-subtle exit a few minutes before. My brave boy.
I confess I don’t hear the communion service very well tonight. But snippets of prayer stand out and grateful tears touch my cheeks. That the Holy Spirit is always with us – that’s you and me, too, Gideon. That I am firmly, completely, and wonderfully saved. And Gideon, too. God wants autistic people in His family, too!
I’m so glad I’m beside Gideon during this communion service. Even if I missed the sermon.
I’m with you, Gideon. And you’re with me. Always.
We’re with Jesus. And He’s with us. Always.