The Story He Was Writing All Along
- 1 day ago
- 5 min read
I will never forget the day a doctor confirmed what I already knew in my heart as a mom:
Autism spectrum disorder.
She was three and a half.
Even before the diagnosis, I knew something was different. She had been the hardest baby and toddler I had ever raised. Exhausting, honestly. But she was also pure magic, with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face that could make me forget the hardest day in an instant.
When the words were finally spoken out loud, something shifted in me.
Not because I was shocked. I already knew. But hearing it made everything feel real in a new way. It forced me to face a future I did not yet understand, and fear became part of my mothering.
So did anxiety.
So did worry.
And beneath all of that, something fierce began rising in me. I knew I had to fight for her. I did not know exactly what I was fighting for at first, but I knew I would not sit back and let life steamroll this little girl. Something awakened in me during that season, and honestly, it has never left.
As she got older, some of the signs became more obvious. And trust me, we did everything. We asked the questions. We went to the appointments. We worked with teachers, therapists, and doctors. And I am grateful we did.
But Haley was never easy to define.
She was incredibly social, which often threw people off. Many people had a fixed picture of what autism was supposed to look like, and she did not fit it, not even close. She loved people. She talked to everyone. In elementary school, they nicknamed her “The Mayor of Mooneyham Elementary” because she knew everyone and loved everyone.
That is her gift.
And if I am being honest, I did not always carry it all well.
Yes, I fought for her. But I also felt overwhelmed. I felt unequipped. I felt like I was not enough for what she needed. Some days I was strong. Other days, I was a mess.
At the time, all I could see was the diagnosis, the meetings, the pressure, and the heartbreak that comes when your child is misunderstood, and you are trying to be their safe place while still figuring it out yourself.
But yesterday, something hit me.
I had a meeting with Moms for America, where I was able to present the Special Needs Toolkit for Parents, something built from our real story. And somewhere in the middle of that conversation, it dawned on me:
This was the story God was writing all along.
Not just for Haley.
Not just for me.
But for the next mom.
The next family.
The next parent trying to figure out how to advocate, how to navigate, and how to breathe in a world they never expected.
A couple of months ago, I was sitting in my kitchen when I felt the Holy Spirit nudge me to start a community for parents. I work for an incredible organization where we fight for kids, and prevention has long been close to my heart. But so are the parents, the ones trying to protect, guide, and fight for children who may be more vulnerable in this world.
Because I am one of them.
My daughter did not come with a manual. She did not come with a how-to guide or clear instructions for how to navigate this world. But she did come with everything I would need. I just could not see it then.
So I sat down with the story. Every note. Every question. Every meeting. Every lesson. Every tear. Every hard-won piece of wisdom I had gathered while fighting for her education and learning how to mother her well.
And I turned it into something that could serve someone else: the JBM Parent Toolkit for special needs families.
Not because I did everything right.
Not because I have all the answers.
But because I lived it.
And now, watching God open doors through it, seeing conversations begin, and seeing people want to partner with it, I can see that none of it was wasted.
This is about the gift God gave me in Haley.
At the time, it just felt like one hard thing after another. I could not see that God was gathering every piece of it for a purpose I would only understand later.
And maybe that is what I want to tell you today:
He takes the parts of our story that felt heavy, confusing, and painfully unfinished, and He turns them into something full of purpose. He turns pain into wisdom. He turns survival into strength. He turns what almost broke you into something that can help someone else keep going.
You may only see the papers.
The meetings.
The questions.
The fight.
But God sees the finished work.
He sees the purpose.
He sees the people your story will reach.
He sees the healing that can come from what almost took you under.
What I held in my hands for years felt like one hard thing after another.
Now I can see it for what it became:
A toolkit.
A lifeline.
A testimony.
And maybe this is what you need to hold onto right now: what feels the heaviest may not be the end of your story. The very place that has stretched you, exhausted you, and broken your heart may be where God is building something that will outlive your pain.
Not because it was easy.
Not because it made sense.
But because God wastes nothing.
Not the tears.
Not the questions.
Not the waiting.
Not the fight.
He was writing something all along.
And now I can see it.
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. -Rom 8:28
My Prayer:
Jesus,
There are seasons I don’t understand. Seasons that feel heavy, confusing, and more than I feel equipped to carry.
You see the questions, the exhaustion, the moments where I wonder if I’m doing any of this right.
And still, You are there.
Thank You for not wasting any part of this.
Not the hard days.
Not the tears.
Not the things that felt like too much.
Even when I can’t see it, remind me that You are working.
That You are building something beneath the surface.
That this season has purpose, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.
Give me strength for what’s in front of me.
Peace for what I can’t control.
And the kind of faith that trusts You before I have the full picture.
And when I feel overwhelmed, remind me—You already see the finished work.
In Your Name,
Amen.
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