Ali Family Autism Truths #23 – What is God’s Truth in All This?

Ali Family Autism Truths #23 – What is God’s Truth in All This? April 23, 2015

truth_resizedApril 23, 2015 — Autism Awareness Month, Autism Truths #23

It seems like we are always living waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even when things are relatively smooth and good, we wait, wondering when it will all fall apart.

It’s falling apart in front of my eyes.

Something is distressing D right now, at the end of the day. Distressing him pretty badly. Something internal, perhaps something external, something I don’t know how to fix. The shoe is dropping, and I can see that he is hurting bad in ways that no child should be hurting. This will pass, I know it will. In the past, though, we’ve had months of this hurt. Months upon months. Until we were able to get to the root of the problem, to figure out the internal issues plaguing him, there was no respite for him.

It’s in moments like these I question God. I can’t help it. I am weak. I’ve seen others, full of faith, strong in their iman, who face the hardest of trials, the most difficult of situations, who see their loved ones suffering in ways unimaginable — and yet they remain strong and find peace in submitting to His will and His plan. I, too, find my way through by ultimately submitting to the belief that He knows that which I do not. He has a reason for D’s autism life, I know he does. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

My friend Sara, on the other side of the world, has been posting daily this month on autism as well — about her daughter, M, and their autism truths. She spoke of her Islamic faith yesterday, and how her iman was at its lowest after learning of her daughter’s autism diagnosis:

As the weeks passed, I reached out like a drowning woman to the rope of my faith and I clawed at it with needy hands. And as the seasons changed, and the chokehold of grief was loosened, I was able to find a little bit of perspective. I was able to remember that Islam teaches us that Allah tests those whom He loves. That He gives us trials to purify and not to punish. That there is a recompense for every calamity we face, irrespective of its size. And that despite being the most beloved person to Allah, despite his sacrifices and the suffering endured in pursuit of His path, Rasulillah (saws) bore the death of his only surviving son with not only dignity, but without a single word of reproach or why.

I was so touched by what she wrote. And envious. She goes on to write, “He gave me a daughter who loves completely and unconditionally, who knows nothing of hatred, envy or spite. He gave me a daughter for whom the Pen is lifted and the ink has dried, and who has been guaranteed the very Jannah [heaven] that I so desperately wanted for her from the start.”

I believe this as well. It is the only belief that keeps me going when nothing makes sense. When all of it seems utterly unfair. When it feels like the universe has done D an outrageous, cosmic wrong. I know this life is temporary and fleeting, and D’s paradise is guaranteed. It has to be. It’s what sustains my belief in God, in the Prophets, in fasting in Ramadan, in praying five times a day (at which I falter sometimes), in the belief in the oneness of God, in the whole thing. It has to all be for something. It just has to be. There has to be a happily forever after at the end of it.

D will be there, in the happily ever after. There is no doubt in my mind, no falter in my heart over that knowledge. But the truth is, I still have questions. I still don’t understand. I still question why He makes happen what He makes happen.

In my mind, the challenges of D’s life is already more than anyone should have. As far as he has come, as much as he has learned, as much I am sure he will continue to grow and learn, the challenges are still so vast. His story is not done, there is more to be written. But, every day the boy can’t communicate beyond a handful of things. We understand him very well, but it doesn’t make up for the communication deficit. There is a sensory onslaught, social issues, medical issues and on and on. It’s every day.

And, in his young life, there already has been such times of pain. I think to myself – isn’t it enough? Isn’t his “normal” life enough? Why must there be additional times of such acute hurt? If this world is temporary, and our choices and God’s mercy upon our choices will determine where we go next, what I know is that D is above those choices. There is no test for D. So why, dear God, should he endure such times of distress? What is the meaning in it? What is the reason for it?

What is the truth in it?


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