(blessings)

There is this Christian song I really do not like.

The first time I heard it, I nearly had to pull the car over to the side of the road because I was crying so hard. The song hit a nerve.

Actually, it pierced my heart.

The song is called "Blessings," by Laura Story. If you haven't heard it (what, are you living under a rock?), the message is best described by the last line of the chorus: "What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?"

Whew.

The song begins by reminding us of all the things we normally pray for: protection, peace, comfort. (I'm fine with that part of the song.) But then, the song goes on to say that the blessings we ask for can come through unexpected channels, namely pain, discomfort, losing the sense of God's presence.

In my case, I prayed for a healthy baby boy. When he was born, he seemed perfect.

Nearly ten years later, he was diagnosed with Autism in the form of Asperger's Disorder, ADHD, sensory issues, math and language disabilities. And my Abba Father called me to homeschool him.

It has been five years. My son has come a long, long way. If you have read my stuff, you know that he is dear, funny and completely compassionate. He is very easy to be around and everybody loves him.

But I still struggle.

Is Asperger's a blessing?

I mean, my son is a blessing, no doubt. Even at my most frustrating homeschooling or parenting moments, I love him completely and I am very, very thankful for him.

But the neurological glitch that frustrates his ability to be social with kids his own age, the learning hurdles that keep him from excelling at his grade level, the loss of focus that prevents long-term memory, these things do not look like blessings. As a matter of fact, these things feel like curses. Or make me feel like cursing, take your pick.

So this song feels like I should be happy for all this suffering. After all, it's just a blessing in disguise. Hey, good disguise.

Then one day, I'm driving down the road, kids in tow (whoops, I do have a wonderful daughter who I've blogged about before), and realize that my son is singing along with the radio. And what was on? Yeah, THE SONG. That song that makes me mad and cry and that I do battle with because, well, because it is true.

Because if all things are from God, all things are a grace from God, that God gives good gifts, then I have to trust that He is completing a good work in my son.

The tears streaming down my face that day, as my son sang about trials and betrayals and darkness seeming to win, were tears of thankfulness that God had allowed me to bear witness to a life that knew intimately the battles of just surviving as an autistic adolescent.

And my son, my precious son, is a blessing.