Dear Josh,
I can’t believe you are 15. When you were born- even before- I couldn’t think past the first few years. I always pictured you as a little boy, never thinking about teenage or adult years.
So much focus in our world is on young children. It almost seems like moms stop being moms when kids reach a certain age but we know that’s not true. Kids need their moms at all ages.
But especially you. You still really need me.
It makes me happy and sad all at the same time. That’s called bittersweet and I think it describes life so well.
You know I thank God for you every single day. I tell you how much I love you and you see my eyes glisten with tears when you look at me with your gorgeous almond pools of blue.
I mostly cry because I’m overwhelmed with the joy that is you.
But I have a confession- I sometimes get a little sad when I think about what you might be doing. I used to let these thoughts consume me. Now I wonder if you wish things were different or if you miss doing certain things.
Sometimes I’m afraid to express any sadness or question anything will let all those who think you aren’t perfect just the way you are be justified in their thinking.
You were born perfect as much as your brothers and sister and as perfect as any other child.
You are unique and exquisite. Fearfully and wonderfully made.
But sometimes I go there- to the place of “what if”…
Take your birthday. You can’t tell me what you want for presents or what you want to do.
Birthdays are different for you. You don’t talk about what you want to do a year in advance. You don’t ask for a party or request your favorite meal or even have a say in what kind of cake you get.
Would you want to have a party, or just some friends over to hang out and play video games? Would you even like video games? Would you want to go to a movie? Out to dinner? You can’t tell me your favorite resturant. But I’d love to know.
Sometimes I picture you in the youth group. You would be raising money to go on a missions trip. You might even be going with your big brother.
I’d be “griping” about the Mother’s Day Bake Sale and how it’s not a relaxing Mother’s Day for me and we’d all laugh because it’s tradition and we would get in the kitchen all together and have fun.
Would you want to go to Verge Camp? I sometimes picture you sleeping on the bus and playing pranks and worshipping with thousands of teenagers and eating junk food and making silly faces at the iPhone pointed at you so I can see you on Facebook and know that you’re having a blast.
We would have had the “talk”. You may or may not be girl-crazy and you may or may not ever tell me about your crushes.
Instead…
I pack a pull-up in my purse (just in case), tie your shoes and look at the tag velcroed in the laces that reads: “I have autism. I am non-verbal.”
Your life is full of “special” conditions- special needs trusts and guradianships and IEP’s and medical issues and hundreds of things that complicate already difficult to navigate waters.
But in your 15 years, whether you know it or ever will realize it, you have changed my soul more than any typical teenager ever could. You have impacted lives without saying a word well beyond what most do in a lifetime.
Your smile is so genuine and pure, I know that you hold the secret of joy.
Contentment comes effortlessly and while I struggle against the worldly and unimportant, you are satisfied.
I feel lonely for you sometimes. You don’t have friends in the sense your brothers and sisters do. But I’m grateful that they let you hang out in the middle of them, and you laugh and put your hand on one of them to let them know, “Hey, I’m here. Thank you for letting me join in.”
Maybe if you could tell me if any of the things I wish for are your wishes. Maybe it’s my selfishness that wants these things for you that you care nothing about.
Once your Mamaw asked if I thought you knew you were different. I honestly didn’t know then.
But now- I think I know and I think you do.
Does it bother you and will I ever know?
But today, these questions can be left unanswered and I celebrate you, my precious young man who lives his beautiful life simply.
I am immensely proud of you. You, Joshua Neely, change attitudes and hearts. I pray God gives you the desires of yours because I know no one more genuine and deserving as you.
I don’t know if you can or will ever fully comprehend any of this. I guess I really don’t need to know if you do because God knows and He always knows best. What I’m sure of is that I am honored that He chose me to be your mom.
Happy Birthday. I love you.
