I remember when Abbey was first diagnosed, the long list of things that began to play in my head as couldn’t and wouldn’t. She couldn’t follow simple 2 step directions and maybe she wouldn’t. She couldn’t speak in full sentences and maybe she wouldn’t. She couldn’t sit still to play or watch anything and maybe she wouldn’t. She couldn’t stop hitting out of frustration and maybe she wouldn’t. It was incredibly discouraging as a parent.

After the first several years of living with our daughter’s diagnosis it began to settle in that she truly did have a disability. She wasn’t born with a diagnosis and didn’t receive one until she was nearly four years old, and so it took some time to come to the point of complete acceptance. Meanwhile we fought for every inch of ground we could help her take. Over time, as many skills remained delayed and many milestones remained unmet, despite all of the many therapies and interventions, things began to feel more hopeless. It took a pretty drastic situation one year to get my attention (which you can read about here), and to refocus me on the fact that my HOPE is in God and not in my own strengths as a mom or in my daughter’s circumstances changing.

Since then life has looked allot different for us. Not because Abbey began to excel in the skills she’d previously lacked, and not because our life’s circumstances suddenly began to look allot easier. It began to look different the minute that I began to surrender my fears to God and I began to fully trust Him with my daughter. That was the moment that HOPE rushed in for me. God had reached out and made Himself known to me. He had reminded me of all the times in my life that He had been there for me and had seen me through. And the most beautiful thing of all, He reminded me of the peace that only He could give. The kind of peace that passes all understanding and that guards our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7), even while we are in the midst of circumstances that feel like they may crush us.

Through the years I’ve wondered if God made himself known to me like this, then how would He make himself known to Abbey. I mean, of course I know He can, because God can do anything, but I guess I wondered how this would look for her. With cognitive delays, how would she be capable of knowing God? And with her delays in speech and language, how would we know if she had come to know God. And then the answers began to appear.

It was little things at first, like her asking to be read to from her bible rather than other story books. Then suddenly quoting short verses we had shared with her over the years, and verses that applied to the moment. For example, in moments of anxiety she began to say, “Do not be afraid for the Lord my God will be with me wherever I go.” (Josh 1:9). Or in moments where she needed to be brave, she began to say, “I can do all things through Jesus who gives me strength.” (Phil 4:13). We were amazed at each encounter of God’s clear working in her life and in her spirit.

Then recently we began to see a new level of understanding. She began to ask about her own sinfulness and about God’s forgiveness. We were driving in the minivan, where all good conversations seem to happen these days, and it was a particularly difficult day. The kind of day that started with Eric having to be late to work, in order to help her get into the van and safely harnessed into her seat, for me to then drive her to school. Once in the car, Abbey began to say, “I don’t want to be nice.” Frankly I empathized with her. I don’t always feel like being nice either. It almost made me laugh out loud, but I didn’t because I was on guard and trying to be quiet with her behaviors. I talked to her about calming her body by taking deep breaths and breathing out the yucky angry feelings and breathing in Jesus’s peace and joy.

Suddenly she announced, “I’m sinning.” I didn’t even know that she knew that word, let alone that she knew the concept. But she was clear on this point. And it was clear to me that God was intervening in her life in that moment. We talked a little more about calming her body and about praying to Jesus for help.

Then we began to thank God for anything we could think to thank him for, “Thank you for my school”, “Thank you for the clouds”, “Thank you for the flowers”, “Thank you for the rain”. Because the sun had begun to peak out from behind the clouds, I told her, “Maybe we will see a rainbow sometime today.” Before I could even finish saying it, we came around the bend in the road, and there it was right in front of us a full rainbow. God is so good! A rainbow. The very real and tangible promise of His love for us hung there in the sky for us to see. I could never again wonder if my child was capable of knowing God, and it was clear that He knows and loves us well.