A Nine Year Old’s Letter To Her Disabled Brother

Dear Isaac,

I know you can’t ever read this but maybe one day I will read it to you. Maybe one day you will understand.

Tonight when you moaned and screamed when I was trying to watch a video you made me grumpy. I still love you even when I got mad at you and I am secretly glad you are well enough to scream and moan now.

The last two days I have watched you have lots of seizures and I have been so worried about you. I worry you might go to hospital or you might faint. When you have lots of seizures I don’t like going to school or leaving you. I call your name to try and wake you up. I prefer you wide awake and acting normal. I miss your screaming and being noisy when you have seizures. It’s like you are there but not there. You scare me but I still love you. I pray God will stop your seizures soon because I want you better.

One time I counted you had at least 7 naps in one day. I played card games with mum and dad and still you didn’t wake up. That made me sad. I missed you that day so much.

When you have a bath I really want to play with you and have fun but just as I start to have fun with you you push me away and makes me cry. Why do you do that? I wish you could talk to me and tell me. I would understand. I love you.

I love going on trains with you and going to the park. You are always happy in those places. I know you love me pushing the roundabout for you. I like seeing you on the swing too because I got you that swing for you, though I know you will never understand that. I did it because I don’t think life is fair to you and its better when you are happy. When you are happy I am happy too.

You keep me awake with his noises at night and wake me up early. I forgive you. Always.

You kill my fish by feeding them. Feeding fish is good Isaac but maybe not with talcum powder, toothpaste, trains and bubble bath! You do lots of naughty things like use felt pens on the armchairs, tipping bins, pulling pictures off walls, wandering away, and you always have to be first in the house. You make mummy and daddy sad but I want to tell you it’s ok. We all forgive you. We all love you. Sometimes we might be mad but we always forgive. We know you don’t mean it, though I have some baby fish now so it would be good if you just let ME feed them. Would that be ok?

Sometimes you get more attention. Mum is always bathing you because you scream and throw things if she doesn’t. You always want to go out even if I don’t want to and it sometimes feels like you always get your own way. It’s not really fair but I still love you.

You can scream very loudly. You hit me all the time. Please can you be gentle? Until them I will be patient while you learn.

There are things you can’t do. You can’t talk or write or read. I know you can’t read this but maybe you will understand if I read it to you. Maybe.

You can play just in a bit of an awkward way like tipping things on the floor or eating teddies. You only sometimes cuddle me but that’s ok.

You can be funny though. You try to push the roundabout AND get in it at the same time! You throw your fork away when you have finished eating because you forget we can wash them. You put your fork in-between your toes and then pick up food with your fingers. That’s clever and funny. You put your iPad behind your bed and think it will magically charge there. You chew charging leads and then wonder why they don’t work anymore. You make me smile and I really love you.

You never walk to school because it’s 14 miles away. You get star of the week more than me because there are less children in your class. That’s unfair! You get it for silly things too. But you never have show and tell. That would be funny because you can’t tell anything anyway. That must be hard because I know you want to say so much.

You are always on google maps. I think that’s amazing and clever. Some people don’t think you are smart but you are.

You never get to be secret student like me. My school is doing secret student now and I was secret student today in my class. When I was chosen I thought of you. Would you know what that is? The more I get bigger the more I wonder about things that you might never do or understand. You know what though, I think they chose me deliberately because I was having a bad day. I went to school crying today because you had some of those seizure things again and I want to make sure you are ok. I can’t be a good sister if I am at school can I? I’m sorry I left you.

My friends don’t understand what it’s like having a brother like you.

Sometimes I don’t want them to even know about you. I worry they would say nasty things about you because you are different or say nasty things about me. My best friend knows about you though. She worries that you may hit me but I don’t like her questioning things about you. It’s hard to explain about you because you are just, well, you are just very special and sometimes precious things are best kept secret. Is that ok?

Sometimes I love you Isaac. Sometimes I hate you. It’s hard having a brother like you but it’s also easy having a brother like you. It’s hard to live with you but its easy to love you. Really easy.

You are my friend sometimes and a bully other times. I wish we could be friends more. I am going to try and help you do that.

You teach me how to be patient and that it’s ok to be different.

I want to be there for you when you are bigger. I want mummy to teach me to care for you. Please let me me do that will you?

Please try and keep learning. I believe in you. I will teach you. I can do dividing with remainders now and everything! But what I am most happy about doing is making you smile.

You are the best brother in the world even when you make me cry. I know I make you cry too.

You help me. I help you. How does that sound?

If you can’t say yes just sign it please.

It’s ok because I understand.

With love,

your sister Naomi

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Five Myths About Having A Non-Verbal Child

I am a parent of a non verbal child. He has always been that way and possibly always will. It’s our ‘normal’, so much so that I often forget when others look at my son or ask him a question that they have no idea he can’t speak. Sometimes I want to tell the world everything about him, because he can’t do so for himself. Other days I want to keep everything about him private and locked into my heart because…well mostly because people, sadly, can be very ignorant.

I know people don’t mean to hurt and they are mostly just curious and well meaning about life with my beautiful son but there really does seem to be so many myths about what it is like living with a non verbal child (or adult). Here are five of the most common ones I have had said to me:

1. “Your house must be so much quieter than mine!”

This one doesn’t offend me but it does make me laugh. Just because a person can not speak does not mean they can’t make noise! My son can scream so loud he frightens the birds away for miles. He makes a lot of noises both with his mouth and with his body. He cries, he laughs and he shouts…it’s just words he can’t make, not noise! He is at least ten times louder than his very verbal sister!

2. ‘You must have no idea what he wants then if he can’t speak?’

This one makes me realise just how much emphasis we seem to put on spoken language when, in fact, it is actually only a small minority of what we as humans use to communicate. I carried my son for nine months, when he was a newborn baby I interpreted his cries when he was hungry, tired or wanted comfort. Nine years later and I still know how to interpret his actions and needs. I can follow his eyes, see his face light up in laughter or he can lead me by the hand to what he wants. He is an incredibly gifted communicator, actually more gifted than many of us who have become complacent in our use of spoken language. He uses google street map to take me to the doctors when ill (you can read more about that here), he uses photographs of places we have been to to request to go again and he uses objects like the TV remote to say he wants to watch TV. He may not have speech but he can still get his message across. It is us who need to learn to listen not him who needs to learn to communicate.

3. ‘Give him time. One day he will come out with full sentences!’

I know people want to be positive and offer hope. I get that. I understand that people don’t understand severe autism, global delay and learning difficulties fully and base their experience mostly on what they have read or heard from the media or friends. People don’t mean to hurt me when they say this, but it does hurt. While my heart would love my son to speak to me suddenly in sentences, with the exception of a miracle, that isn’t going to happen. There are only three recognisable vowel sounds in his ‘vocabulary’ at almost ten. He has ‘o’ (sounded out like awww) and ‘mmmmm’ and ‘ahhhhh’ when eating but these are considered so infantile his expressive language has been assessed at approximately 6 months old. It has remained at this age for three years with no signs of any improvement.

As hard as it is for society to accept; there are people who never develop speech and remain non verbal all their lives. There is offering hope to people and then there is false hope. The latter can destroy and damage so much. My son MAY say some words one day but the reality is he is more likely to remain non verbal. I can accept that and I hope one day others will too.

4 ‘I bet he must be so angry and frustrated all the time.’

I can understand why people would think this. Of course, like any other person, my son has times of frustration and anger. Mostly these, like any other 9 year old, are actually because he can not have his own way rather than directly due to his communication struggles. He IS understood and he IS happy. My son has never known any different. It isn’t like he had speech, became reliant on it like us, then lost it. He has always been non verbal and he has found his own way to communicate on his terms. If people take the time to get to know him they can tune into his needs and wants fairly quickly. Out of everyone in my family he laughs more than any of us so his inability to speak certainly isn’t making him angry or frustrated all the time, anything but!

5 ‘That’s so sad. You must be so heartbroken all the time.’

While it may be annoying having your child whining or nagging for something when you are busy, or asking a million questions all the time, how would you feel if you never heard your child say ‘mum’? Of course I get sad sometimes, I would not be human if I didn’t. There are moments it catches me off guard, like when I see my daughter singing Christmas carols or when someone asks me what my son wants for Christmas and he can’t tell me. On the other hand I have become much more grateful for the times my son climbs on my knee at 9 to show me something on YouTube he likes, or the times he squeezes me hard and still wants me to lift him up even though he is almost my height. When he takes my hand as he climbs out the car or rests his head on mine, he doesn’t need words to say how much he loves me.

Yes a part of my heart feels the pain of never hearing his voice but I am anything but heartbroken all the time. I have a bond with my son which is like nothing else. Silence says everything when we are just sitting together and those moments refresh me whenever I need it.

There are so many more misunderstandings about children like my son. Sometimes I deliberately don’t tell people he can’t talk because they immediately seem to stop talking to him just because he can’t speak to them. That upsets me, but more importantly it upsets my son.

I have had other parents tell their children to avoid my son out of fear that perhaps his non verbal status is somehow contagious. People generally equate non verbal with ‘not with it’ which could not be further from the truth with my son. In fact if he ignores you it says far more about you than him!

Being non verbal is not holding my son back, society is.

It is ok to not know about something you don’t have personal experience of but please be willing to learn.

I am a parent of a non verbal child. I don’t need to be his voice because he is perfectly capable of making his own needs and wants known in his own way: He just doesn’t use speech to do so.

My friend and fellow blogger Chris Bonnello hit the nail on the head with this (to see more of his fantastic memes and blogs see http://www.autisticnotweird.com)

Dear Special Needs Parent…Please find time to cry

Dear special needs parent,

I can see behind that false smile, the reply of ‘I’m fine, thanks’ and your happy photographs you post on social media. I need you to know something very important as a parent to a child or children with additional needs: it’s ok to cry.

When you pick that child up from school to go to yet another appointment but you feel you are not getting any closer to answers; please find time to cry. I know you want to ‘brush it off’ as just another day and get on with things. I know you need to ‘keep going for the sake of the children’ as you add another outpatient appointment in your diary for a time you know will clash with the school pick up of your other children but you just don’t have the courage to say so.

It’s ok to admit it’s all draining and never ending.

You don’t have to be strong all the time.

Please find time to cry.

When you feel you are the worst parent in the world dragging your crying child to school because they are not coping and you want to help them ‘sort it out themselves’ because you know ‘this is just another incident and tomorrow there will be something else’ but deep down you still doubt if you are doing the right thing. When you worry about their mental health every bit as much as you worry about their physical wellbeing but you struggle to get anyone to take you seriously.

Don’t let the parent guilt consume you.

Don’t ever feel you are alone.

Please find time to cry.

When your child with communication difficulties is attacking you and won’t stop screaming. When you have missing hours you know nothing about and continually worry something has triggered or stressed them but no-one has communicated that to you so you can’t ‘sort it out’ and ‘make it right again’ like you always do. When you feel like you daren’t breathe incase one of your children has another meltdown and you can’t even use the bathroom without an audience.

It’s ok to want privacy.

It’s ok to feel you have lost control and you can’t make everything right for everyone.

Please find time to cry.

When the system grinds you down. When you feel scrutinised and judged by schools, professionals, and the general public. When you are heart sick of writing forms about your child’s struggles because you are trying to see a brighter future than everyone forecasts. When you no longer have any control over where you child can be educated or what therapies they can get because your child’s needs mean someone else feels they should make these decisions for you. When you feel robbed of everyday life experiences and see reminders of this everyday in social media posts and family occasions, please find time to cry.

It’s not a weakness to cry.

There is no shame is saying ‘this is hard’.

In fact by ‘holding it all together’ you are actually falling apart more than you realise.

So find time to cry.

It doesn’t mean you don’t love your child.

It doesn’t mean you are not accepting their condition or diagnosis.

It doesn’t mean you are any less.

It doesn’t mean you are not coping.

It means you are human.

Dear parent if a special need child or children: do yourself the best favour you possibly can today; find time to cry.

I promise you you will feel better for it.

Why I Struggle When My Special Needs Child Gets ‘Star of the Week’

So my 9 year old son came home from school on Friday with a certificate and photograph in his bag. There was no eagerness to show me and no message in his school diary; it was just there. Of course I am proud of him and told him so and absolutely it will be displayed on his bedroom wall to honour his achievements like his sisters are in her room. That is never in doubt. However, I have to be honest and say I really struggle when my son gets ‘star of the week’ and here is why:

1. It reminds me just how far behind he is academically.

It’s a sobering thought that my son has been at school five and a half years and is still working at pre-school levels in many subjects. The very fact he still has no idea that star of the week is any sort of aspirational incentive to even aim for says it all. He isn’t being modest or shy in not showing me his certificate; he honestly still doesn’t get the whole social aspect of celebrating achievement in any way. His twin sister commented on his award saying ‘well done Isaac but…’ and she went on to ask why he is still so far behind her. That’s hard. You see I live with my child daily and I know he struggles but seeing it on paper seems to somehow make it raw. It hurts. I am proud of my son but sad that he is behind so much. I don’t think anyone wants their child to be 7 or so years behind their peers in any way.

2. It makes me scared for the future.

I try not to think of the future. I live everyday and enjoy the moment but wisdom would tell me that I do need to plan for the future too. I shared my sons achievement on social media and today someone asked me in person what happens to children like my son when they finish education. The reality is my son will likely not be suitable for college and academically will never reach the level required for university. Employment is pretty unlikely too so our current options include him living at home and attending day care services. That’s not what I planned for my child when I conceived him and carried him for nine months, and although I do need to be mentally prepared for this seeing his star of the week award just feels like his future is all planned out and that is scary. His options are limited and seeing his academic ability on a laminated sheet makes that a stark reality. I won’t lie, that is hard to accept.

3. It makes me feel he is being defined by his ability to learn.

When I think of my child I think of am energetic, fun loving, teddy chewing, mischievous little brown eyed boy who does the best squeezy hugs and who loves his food. I think of the child who has incredible gifts in communication despite having no spoken language. I get so much joy from singing along to the songs he plays on his iPad and going to lifts with him. I see a child who gets so excited every time Bing Bunny comes on the TV that he bounces in the armchair he is sitting in. I see a child who could go hundreds of miles to places on google street map even though he has significant visual impairment. I don’t see his lack of ability to read or write or speak as an issue and none of those difficulties define him. So when I see his star of the week award I hope that this is not just how society sees my child either.

My son will always struggle with some things. Professionals and medical specialists have told me it is unlikely my son will ever speak to me. Education have told me he won’t ever attend a mainstream school and college or further education is unlikely. It’s a very sobering thought but with that comes my absolute determination that my son should never ever be defined by his struggles.

So I will stick his award on his bedroom wall and smile. It’s great he has been recognised. It’s great he is making progress but I never forget that for everyone of us life is much more than our ability to learn or how far we go in education.

I struggle when my son gets star of the week because his ability to achieve should never be limited to traditional education. I am raising a remarkable, brave and wonderful child who is breaking the mould in life. He is a star in so many more ways than just trying to write the digit 2. One of the many reasons I write about him is to help others see beyond his academically ability (or lack of) so I will stick that award up and get back to celebrating my son in every other way I do daily.

Don’t ever let educational achievement define anyone. We are much more than our ability to learn.

Hope For Parents Who Can Not Leave The House With Their Own Children

My children returned to school this week after two weeks Spring break and as I look back at photographs of their time off I realised something very significant: I am now able to take my own children out of the house!

That may seem a strange thing to say to anyone who has never been where I (and thousands of other parents) have been, but I can assure you every school holiday there are parents of autistic children right around the world stuck at home unable to leave the house with their own children.

Back in July 2016 I wrote this post where I quoted families throughout Britain who were trapped at home unable to take their own children out. It wasn’t lazy parenting or just anxious mums or dads, there were very legitimate reasons why taking their autistic child (and siblings) out the safety of their own home was a huge challenge. To summarise the list of reasons included refusal to leave by the child, no awareness of danger, violence and unpredictable behaviour, sensory issues and public comments.

I was one of those parents.

I have two autistic children, one with huge anxiety and another with challenging behaviour and huge sensory needs. For my safety (and theirs) it was best we stayed inside our own bubble of safety at home.

So what changed? Less than two years later and I have photographs of my children at soft play, in shops, swimming and in the park during school holidays. I not only took them both out myself but we all had fun and I even managed to snap some pictures! What others take for granted since birth has taken me almost ten years to achieve…but I got there, and you can too.

So how did I get to where we are now?

1. I worked out my children’s sensory needs and played to them.

I watched them at home and took notes. It was very obvious both my children loved water. They would play happily with water and bubbles and they both loved a bath. That got me thinking about swimming. I called the pool to see when they were quiet and while they were at school I went myself and took pictures of the changing rooms, lockers and showers (I knew they would never use these but they still had to walk past them). We watched YouTube videos of children swimming and I let them try on arm bands and rubber rings.

Then one day I took them swimming. The changing and drying was, and still is, a bit challenging but they love being in the water. It was worth it. Finally we had one place I could take them!

2. I took account of their need for routine and worked around this.

My children do not cope with routine changes. However that meant I could not leave the house with them so something needed to change. I knew there were some parts to the day that were unmovable like bath time and meal times. We never go out after dinner as I know how anxious and distressed my son gets if he does not have a bath at 6pm. He is more amicable and open to change after breakfast so this is when I usually head out now. It’s what works for us and that’s fine.

3. I do the activity and then bring them back home.

First bowling then home. First library then home. They needed to learn to trust me and they needed to know they would always be brought back to their safe place. There was no sneaking into the supermarket while I had them out or popping into a friend’s house on the way home. Short trips keep their anxiety (and mine) much lower and gives them time to process where we have been and wind down from that. One thing at a time is a motto that works very well for us all.

4.iPads come too.

For my twins, and many other autistic children, technology is much more than just a solitary chill out activity. My non verbal son uses photographs on his iPad to communicate and they both use their tablets to zone out when things get too much. If that means they play a game on their tablet and stay sitting on a seat while the other child takes a turn at bowling then I am delighted. Having their iPad helps the transition, minimises the sensory overload and brings them comfort. If that’s what it takes to get out the house then so be it.

5. I involve the children and instantly reward them.

Good old fashioned bribery got us out the house! I remember taking my screaming son one day to the supermarket. He was anxious and annoyed I was taking him out the house but I knew the benefits to him would out-way his anxiety. He was safe and with me and I was monitoring his stress levels continually. I took him in for bananas and right back out again. On the drive home he ate a banana while flapping with excitement. Now he associates the supermarket with food (instant gratification) and I can take him in with me for short periods provided he gets something to eat in the car coming home. There is no wandering aisles stressing him and I take him at times the shop is quieter to minimise waiting. It works. There is one supermarket near me that he never ever wants food though and that’s because they have another massive motivator for him: a lift! He knows if he stays with me while I pick up milk he can watch the lift for a minute before home. It’s mutual benefits really. With my daughter a promise of a magazine or other small treat had the same effect.

They both now see so much benefit to leaving the house that on occasions they even suggest going places before I do!

It took time and patience. I needed to take a risk and do it. It involved planning, risk assessment and sometimes having another adult with me, but we got there.

Like so many thousands of parents of autistic children I found myself staying home all day everyday because my children refused to leave the house, their lack of danger awareness scared me, their sensory issues were so high and I was worried about what people would say.

My children still have no awareness of danger. They still (and always will) have autism. They still have high sensory needs and I still get comments and stares from the public.

The difference is now we just go out and have fun anyway!

It wasn’t easy. It took time and patience. Today I can leave the house with both my autistic children on my own. I am proud of myself but I am ever prouder of both of them.

If you don’t feel you can leave the house with your autistic child can I tell you just one thing: There is hope.

It is most definitely worth it. You need out and the world needs to see both you and your amazing autistic children.

I Could Hate Autism…but

I could hate autism tonight.

I could hate the fact my son has caused so much damage to my house again, both in financial terms and in emotional terms. Things of sentimental value smashed, toys broken, floors flooded, window blinds torn. I could hate the fact he has screamed for hours on end in frustration and anger and attacked anyone who came near him. I could hate the fact his sibling is having to deal with all this and live in a volatile situation she has no control over.

When the child who has caused the damage has a diagnosis of autism I could hate autism so easily, but I don’t.

Many would argue, and I would have done so in the past too, that my son’s autism is to blame for tonight. It was his rigidity of thinking and inflexible thought processing that were the triggers. It was the fact he could not control everything and his sheer need for set routine that started it all. It was the fact his communication needs are so high and he was frustrated at not being able to verbally say what he wanted. It was his lack of social awareness and inability to understand others viewpoints that meant he caused thoughtless damage to other’s property. Everyone of these things are key traits of autism spectrum disorder after all, so surely autism was to blame for it all?

Autism isn’t why my son is violent. Autism is not always the reason my child has meltdowns and screams.

There is more to my child than autism.

There is more to anyone than autism.

Let me be clear: autism does not make people violent. I do not hate autism.

Am I upset about my evening and the damage that was caused? Yes very much so. I am more upset, however, at the fact people will see tonight as something fundamentally down to severe autism. Severe autism does not mean a child will be violent. I can not stress that enough.

Let me say this: my son is 9. Yes he has autism. Yes he has no verbal communication. Yes he has learning difficulties and other complex needs. His challenging behaviour IS linked to his complex needs and these do play a factor in what happened tonight but they are not the full story.

I could hate autism but I don’t.

Instead I hate the fact I misjudged my son’s level of anxiety to the point I let him get to the stage of full meltdown.

I hate the fact my tiredness and frustration meant I never showed my child the patience and understanding he needed.

I hate the anxiety and frustration my son felt because his world felt so out of control and unordered because I never ran his bath at 6pm when he felt I should.

Autism was’t to blame for tonight: I was.

My son is a vulnerable child. Whilst he does need support to learn to wait and be more gentle (as does any child,autism or not, and many adults too!) he also has a right to be understood, be listened to and have his needs met regardless wether he can speak or not. I am the adult in all this and it is ME who needs to change and mature not him.

Do you know something…my son could have had a bad night, been frustrated and had a challenging evening even if he didn’t have autism. He is a 9 year old boy with developing hormones, a growing body and determination like any other child. We all get angry and children need space to be forgiven and grow as much as we all do. Have I ever wanted to throw something in temper at times? You bet I have. I have just learnt as an adult that there are better ways to deal with anger. My son just needs time to learn that too. Autism and learning difficulties may mean that takes a little longer and it’s my job to be more patient during that process.

In all the chaos of tonight, in all the broken toys, wet floors, and smashed items I found my son had done this on his bed. A line of cars to remind me how beautiful, ordered and perfect autism is.

I could hate autism but there is nothing about autism to hate.

Just to add I ran that bath, apologised to my child and we made amends. Yes he has autism and learning difficulties but his laughter, his energy, and his forgiving spirit know no bounds. One of the most amazing things about his autism is he will wake up tomorrow with no agenda, no grudge and a love of life that makes everyday wonderful.

I could hate autism but I love my son far too much for that.

A Mother’s Cry: Can my Disabled Child Ever Become a Christian?

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It’s Easter Sunday, the very centre of my beliefs as a Christian, that my Lord and Saviour not only died for me on a cross to carry my sin, but he rose again on the third day to beat death once and for all to enable me (and everyone else who believes) to have eternal life.

I sat in church today and heard the gospel message preached with my beautiful children beside me, just the same as my parents did the generation before. I never tire of hearing the message of Jesus crucified and at 15 it impacted me personally on such a level my life has been rooted and grounded in my faith ever since.

Yet here I am faced with a massive question that has caused me to question my faith in a way I never ever expected: if he wanted to, could my disabled son ever become a Christian?

Why would I ask this? Well every tract I have ever read (there have been hundreds), every gospel message I have heard preached (there have been many) and every evangelist I have listened to have all taught a way to salvation that is fundamentally impossible for my child to ever achieve.

img_1145-1This is Isaac. He is, like everyone of us, made in the image of God. He is the most beautiful and incredible gift ever given to me. He is a true miracle having been prayed for and believed for against all odds. I was given medically less than 1% chance of ever having children yet after ten years of infertility God blessed me with not one, but two, babies. Isaac was the first born of twins. He has soft dark brown hair, hazel eyes that shine light and sparkle with life even if one of them doesn’t work and the other hides a tumour on its optic nerve. He makes noises, though at 9 and a half none of these noises form words that you and I can distinguish. He has severe autism. He has severe learning difficulties. He is epileptic. He has a brain tumour that means he will forever function as a very young child, most likely no more than aged 2 to 3 years.

So when I hear today’s gospel message once again I am crying, not only because the story of my Saviour always touches the very core of my being but because I know how the service will end and I can’t help wondering…

Can my disabled child ever be saved?

You see the way of salvation in the Bible is clear. It is based on such well known and readily quoted verses of so many believers: Romans chapter 10 and verse 9; “That if you confess with your mouth that ‘Jesus is Lord’, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

I believe that.

But what if someone has such significant learning difficulties they will never understand and they can not speak their own name let alone say ‘Jesus is Lord’. What happens then?

Then there’s the famous one in John chapter 3 and verse 16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

I believe that too.

But what about those who are cognitively unable to believe?

I could go on and talk about sin, baptism, the work of the cross, bridging the gap between God and man and all sorts of things that preachers and tracts talk about. Not one of these things will ever be understood by my son.

If he can’t understand the story can he ever believe in God?

He is never going to raise his hand at an alter call. He will never go forward for prayer to turn his life around, he will never hold a microphone and testify to how he was once an addict and now he is a Christian.

The fact of life is, for my son, and so many others, we need to see salvation in a different way.

Maybe I am tearing up the theology books here, maybe I am shaking traditions, but I believe my baby boy will always be saved. He will never be the lost sheep that the Shepherd longed to find. He will never be the prodigal son. He will never sin. The acts of the sinful nature (according to Galatians chapter 5 verses 19-20) are sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery, idolatry and witchcraft, hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, orgies and the like…one thing I can category say is that my son will never do these.

He embodies innocence. As Psalm 139 says he is fearfully and wonderfully made. Like us all he was made in the image of God. But unlike us, he can not choose to sin, neither can he choose to believe.

He can flap as we sing praises, he can make a joyful noise, he can rest in the presence of God. He can feel peace, experience joy and love deeply. I believe he can know God in his Spirit even if his mind and body don’t function as well as we would all like.

I believe he is in the palm of Gods hand.

I believe in grace that a loving God has searched my son and knows his heart, that he is familiar with all his ways. He alone created his inmost being.

God has this covered.

Can my son ever get saved when he can’t believe and confess like every preacher and tract says he has to?

I can’t quote you scripture but my mother’s heart cries out to a God who hears my prayers and is carrying my son both now and forever.

That’s my mother’s cry.

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