Autistic in the spirit

An undeniable emptiness, I've felt before, came over me this morning. It's just Reid and me at home this weekend. Have you ever felt alone in someone's company? Hearing him hook up to the television--like an IV--I followed him downstairs feeling taken-for-granted, ignored, like furniture.

All he really cares about is that constant stream of visual stimulation. His assumption that I will always be here to provide basic wants and needs, is accurate even if hurtful.

I say "Good Morning" to no response. Until, "can you bring me hash browns?"

How many times do I wake up and the first thing I say to the Lord is, "Will you bless my day?" or some other thinly veiled demand for creature comfort. To some degree, we all go around idolizing our own pleasure, achievement, pastimes, or just our own navels. While God sits waiting for a heartfelt "good morning" connection.

God in Heaven continues to bless us but, you know all He really wants? Relationship! To have us come look in His eyes, play footsie, or otherwise give Him the time of day. That's all I want from Reid. Spent umpteen hours--his lifetime--and thousands of dollars trying to achieve it. To have him greet me

spontaneously, care what I think, want to sit with me or tell me about his day.

Maybe, just maybe, God's purpose in allowing autism is to illustrate the condition of our hearts toward Him in the spiritual realm. Can you think of a better way? Many of us are autistic in our spirits. No intervention the world offers can save us from ourselves. The reality of Reid helps me grasp the parallel and modify my own behavior toward God my Father in heaven.

If God loves me while I am yet a selfish sinner turning my back and gaze away from Him, then I can keep on loving Reid on the days he doesn't express any reciprocity. I see myself in him.

Brings to mind these lyrics,

• How Is It Between Us? by Sara Groves

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