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I had a lot to say during Autism Awareness Month. I wrote a blog, then I wrote another one...and I just couldn't put it out there. The gut wrenching stories I read day in and day out. Ours was just one more.

"We have to tell the real story of autism." Britton's words.

Britton encouraged me. I was telling him all about how I was feeling. Grieving the "if onlys." If only I had known about the vaccines. If only you didn't suffer with so many seizures. If only we could open a center for young adults with autism.

If only, if only, if only...If only...autism was like it's portrayed on television...if only those who believe autism is a gift knew the dark underbelly of the original diagnosis. IF ONLY...I try to do what Britton says we must do. Tell the real story of autism. I'm not sure many people enjoy hearing it.

I mean, look around. Hollywood shines it up, and pretends it's a quirky, peculiar...even FUN way to be. AND...maybe for some, it is. But not many. MOST, or at least the majority I know, have life altering, difficulties. They are medically fragile and have very little chance at independence.

I was bemoaning the giant gap between what autism is like at our house versus the television portrayals. Sighing and eye rolling, about people who "choose" to call themselves autistic, versus those who have no choice. The "great divide" between the two.Britton reminded me of how he believes God sees the situation.

"Calling words has no meaning. We know who we are. He tells real boys. Be free."

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​So there you have it. Real boys, and their "real mommas," should just know who God says they are, and be free. If ONLY...it was that simple. I laughed, telling Britton, "if anyone wants this autism diagnosis? They can have it! We will gladly give it up. It's never been a gift at our house."

We've been between a rock and a hard place for quite some time now. Autism/seizure struggles, leaving us worn out and weary...our hands empty and our hearts broken. Everyone has seasons like that... when they are left with nothing to hold on to...except...what and who they believe in.

It's been months and months of seizures every 24-48 hours...new drugs, new doses, new dosing schedules. We have tried to be cautiously optimistic, but the reality is, our hearts are still broken and our hands are still empty. Because nothing has made any difference....at least not anything we can see or touch.

I don't know if I can pray more, maybe? I don't know if I can cry more, probably? But I do know that I can trust more, no doubt about that. I confess there are days when I wonder where God is in our story.

"He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way" Lam 3:33 MSG

Britton's been in bed A LOT...by a lot I mean, all day...more days than not. I don't know what to do....We read...he picks a book, out of two or three or four that I offer. We read the message bible frequently. This past month, Britton and I have been reading in the book of Genesis. We came to the story of Joseph.

That story is just not long enough for all that happened. Even the movies about him take a few hours to watch. Britton and I read it in about 30 minutes.

The bible doesn't give much detail considering how much happened to Joseph. Reminds me of how we put epitaphs on tombstones to capture a whole life in a few words.

Joseph's life took a turn in one afternoon--when he lost everything! He was a happy-go -lucky, bursting with testosterone, seventeen-year-old. Life had been pretty good for him. He was the child of Jacob's old age, and his daddy thought he hung the moon. Jacob was not shy about treating Joseph special. Which did not set well with his TEN older brothers.

His dad sent Joseph to check on his brothers tending sheep. Speaking of choices? Don't you wonder about the wisdom of that? I wonder what happened when Joseph found them. Did he get sarcastic? Maybe he told them he was gonna rat them out to their dad, AGAIN? Because, the bible tells us he had done it before.

Maybe he rubbed his fancy coat in their faces.But it seems most likely that since the bible says, "they hated him and couldn't speak a kind word to him." They were just done with daddy's favorite.

The bible also says they saw him coming, and plotted to kill him before he even got there. Whatever happened that day, they grabbed the opportunity because Daddy was too far away to save Joseph. I also wonder if Joseph was clueless to their hate? Or...was it the arrogance of youth that made him too trusting?

They dropped him into a "cistern," then sat down and had lunch. Joseph begged them to rescue him. But they ignored his pleas. They had hard hearts eaten up with jealousy for most of his seventeen years.

When the opportunity to be rid of their "spoiled, privileged baby brother appeared, they jumped at it. "... when a caravan hauling slaves came by...they may have patted each other on their backs and talked about how even God was on their side. Call it providence, fate, destiny...chance? Hindsight gives us the bigger picture.

I began wondering about Joseph's experiences. His life changing fast enough to give him whiplash. Thrown into a well, and in a few hours, sold to the highest bidder. (Britton typed at this point..."how far?) I finally figured out he wanted to know how far it was to Egypt.) I looked it up.

Joseph walked over 700 miles to Egypt...A rope around his neck, pulled behind a wagon or perhaps a camel. His soft hands and fancy clothes gone. Don't you wonder how long it took to walk that far? Weeks, months? But did it really matter to him? He was a slave. When they arrived, he was put on the auction block and sold again. (Britton asked me, Did he cry? I would've cried!)

I felt the chills I get sometimes when God is speaking to me. Showing me something if I'll just look. Joseph's epitaph would be "He was first a slave...then a convicted felon, then he became the prince of Egypt."I can relate to Joseph's story, can't you?

I used to have a "regular/normal life." Whatever that means...I counted my blessings. A great husband, three healthy kids and a job I enjoyed. I lived a pretty uncomplicated life...then everything changed in one afternoon. A slew of vaccines at eleven o'clock on Thursday morning....Britton began seizing hours later.

I still count my blessings, but I have a lot of questions about why God allowed that to happen. Cause he did allow it. But when I read Joseph's story...and KNOW without a doubt that God also allowed what happened to him. I know God definitely used it for a higher purpose.

I would love to know what Joseph was thinking and feeling. I want to know if he prayed a lot. I wonder if he ever doubted God? More likely, how many times he felt like giving up.

How many times have we all felt like a slave to our circumstances? Our jobs, our lives, our debt, all those things can feel like a rope around our necks and it might as well be seven hundred miles in the desert to find freedom.

It was an ugly season for Joseph, definitely his season of "broken hearts and empty hands." The best thing about seasons is that you know even though it's over 100 degrees and you can't take the heat one more day...Fall will ultimately come.

But...sometimes it's not a season. Sometimes it's (gulp) forever. How do you manage knowing that your heart break, your disease, or your disability, is forever?

I was wondering if Joseph thought his situation was forever. He most likely did. He had no reason to believe anyone would rescue him...or... That he would rise to be a prince of Egypt someday. The thing about that story that amazes me the most... is Joseph's impeccable character.

He was in the middle of the hardest place of his life. Everything he believed in...everything he trusted slipped right out of his hands. Both hands gripping the hope he had tethered to all he trusted in.

On those hard days, hope slides out of our hands... burning flesh with every new behavior, every new medical diagnosis...and every failed drug attempt.

When every failure and every choice has made your situation worse instead of better. How do you keep holding on to hope?

The rope burns eventually turn from blisters and wounds...You don't flinch with the next diagnosis, or the next drug failure, or the next.... You are battle scarred and you take on the empty eyes of a soldier who has seen too much. Your hands and unfortunately your heart have laid down calluses. Hope has a hard time permeating calluses.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. My name is Teresa Holman, and I cannot live without it. I am addicted to hope. I need it like I need air, or truth, or love. Hope is important and I'm pretty sure it's that important to every human being on this planet.

I am a mother who has searched in a desperate frenzy to find a way to rescue her son. If not recovery, how about some relief? I've lost insane amounts of sleep. I'm not sure how long a person can live on a few hours of sleep. I'm going on 35 years. I've spent ridiculous amounts of money. I've refused to accept that it will get worse and worse. My reason isn't logical or scientific. My reason is, Love. I love him.

"Love is patient, love is kind, Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice, but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance." 1 Corinthians 13:4.

I expect lots of you can quote that scripture, and yet...do we hear the meaning in the words anymore? Better yet, do we live those truths? Maybe they are worth another read...with new eyes? Helping the truths of what love is soak through the calluses we've created to protect ourselves.

These past months I've said things like, this will end, it can't go on forever...can it? I worry that other people, even staunch prayer warriors, tire of our tragedy. Worn out of praying for us. I get that, because I'm tired of my tragedy too. I shy away from asking anyone for prayer. I stop talking about the life I'm living.

Because other people need hope. I worry that my life is an example in failure from start to finish. Then I take a deep breath. "Take those thoughts captive." Remind myself, this is a spiritual war.

"God hasn't forgotten you. Just the opposite. He has chosen to train you. Dismiss the notion that God does not see your struggle. On the contrary. God is fully engaged. He sees the needs of tomorrow and accordingly, uses your circumstances to create the test of today."

We are at war. A bloody, brutal, spiritual war with a masterful combatant who is an expert at manipulating thoughts. A cruel general who has thousands of years of experience telling humanity lies to cover up the truth. Didn't Jesus say HE was the way, the TRUTH and the life?

The enemy has a plan for our lives...yet we are God's children and he created us with His plan encoded inside our DNA. Our gifts, our desires, all the strengths, he added to who we are...we have what we need to follow HIS plan.

But...We get the plan we choose.

Misery, worry and despair happens, when the enemy deceives us. Escorting us down a dark path we've allowed ourselves to believe is the best choice. When we are spiraling down that path of destruction, God...makes sure we remember he has a plan.

He puts a great many forks along the road so that we will choose to set our feet back on his path. I am grateful for all the forks in the road I have traveled...physically and spiritually. I'm amazed at every second chance God has given. The Way Maker, and Promise Keeper, the God of Angel Armies, is the same God that lifted Joseph from a prison to a palace.

"If God can make a prince out of a prisoner, don't you think he can make something good out of your mess?"

That same God has promised that he has a good plan for each one of us. That's the God I believe in.

My plan, the plan I believe God gave each of us. Is to stay the course, pray, read the word, and TRUST HIM. If we lose our way...again. Hopefully, our spiritual eyes will awaken to the next fork in the road...and we'll "risk" everything, because God has given us another chance to choose His plan.

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*FYI - I've written 40 chapters of a new book series. The final chapters, and off it goes for editing.

BOOK 1--A Light Walkers-Inheritance of Truth

Born with a legacy of spiritual power, Riggs is next in line to inherit. His father, his grandfather, every male as far back as he can trace...is called to carry the mantle of The Great King.

Now it's his turn. He must find a way to fulfil his calling despite his limitations. Diagnosed with severe autism. How can he possibly fulfill his destiny...he can't even talk? But to be a warrior, a Light Walker, would set him free.

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series by Teresa Holman

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