Thoughts on Family

So, I read this book called "Love Anthony" about an autistic boy. He died when he was 8, and his mom struggled so much with the question of what his purpose on the earth even was... he couldn't speak, he couldn't connect, he consumed her life, and then was gone. This is the letter from him to her (don't worry about how that happened after he died... it's too hard to explain the whole book).

Dear Mom,

You already possess the answers to your questions. You already hold them in your heart. but your mind still resists. I understand that sometimes we need reassurance, to hear the words. A two-way conversation.

I wasn't here to do the things you dreamed and even feared I'd do before I was born. I wasn't here to play Little League, go to the prom, go to college, go to war, become a doctor or a lawyer or a mathematician. I wasn't here to grow to be an old man, to be married, to have children and grandchildren. 

I came here to simply be, and autism was the vehicle of my being. Although my short life was difficult at times, I found great joy in being Anthony. Autism made it difficult to connect with you and Dad and other people through things like eye contact and conversation and your activities. But I wasn't interested in connecting in those ways, so I felt no deprivation in this. I connected in other ways, through the song of your voices, the energy of your emotions, the comfort in being near you, and sometimes, in moments I treasured, through sharing the experience of something I loved-- the blue sky, my rocks, the Three Pigs story.

And you, Mom. I loved you. You've asked if I felt and understood that you loved me. Of course I did. And you know this. I loved your love because it kept me safe and happy and wanted, and it existed beyond words and hugs and eyes.

This brings me to the other reason I was here. I was here for you, Mom. I was here to teach you about love.

Most people love with a guarded heart, only if certain things happen or don't happen, only to a point. If the person we love hurts us, betrays us, abandons us, disappoints us, if the person becomes hard to love, we often stop loving. We protect our delicate hearts. we close off, retreat, withhold, disconnect, and withdraw. We might even hate.

Most people love conditionally. Most people are never asked to love with a whole and open heart. They only love partway. They get by.

Autism was my gift to you. My autism didn't let me hug and kiss you, it didn't allow me to look into your eyes, it didn't let me say aloud the words you so desperately wanted to hear with your ears. But you loved me anyway.

You're thinking, Of course I did. Anyone would have. This isn't true. Loving me with a full and accepting heart, loving all of me, required you to grow. Despite your heart-ache and disappointment, your fears and frustration and sorrow, despite all I couldn't show you in return, you loved me. 

You loved me unconditionally.

This is why we're all here.


When I read this, it made me realize something more deeply... that one of the greatest purposes of families is to teach us unconditional love. It would be easier if we only had to love and associate with people who are easy to get along with, people who think and act the same as we do. But, if that were the case, we may never really get to feel real, heart-rending, deep, unconditional love, because it would never be required of us.

Our children, our parents, our siblings... are going to disappoint us. They're going to hurt us. They're going to be different from what we hope and expect. Our challenge in this life is to love them anyway. I believe that's why we have families... not necessarily so that we always have someone who loves us, but so that we always have to love someone.

I don't think this means that we have to be best friends with everyone in our family. I don't think it means that we have to hang out with each other all the time. I think it means that we can't give up on each other. We have to allow the love of Christ to enter our hearts and make us more loving. With other people in the world, we can write them off if they hurt, disappoint, or become hard to love... we just let them go. With family, we don't have that option. We have to learn to work through that and grow... loving with a full and accepting heart. We're not going to be perfect at loving each other right away, and probably not even through our whole lives, but luckily we get a lot of practice with families.

Awhile ago, Aubrey and I were eating lunch at Kneaders in Heber. I saw a boy, probably around 15 years old, eating a bowl of soup with his mom and his sister. He had low-riding pants, messy hair... kind of looked like the sort of kid who wouldn't want to be eating lunch with his mom and sister. All of a sudden I had an overwhelming feeling of love for this boy. It was almost like I could feel his struggles in life, but I could also feel his desire to be a good person. I have moments like that every once in awhile, sometimes with someone I know, sometimes with some of you, sometimes with a stranger... and I think that they are flashes of what God feels for us. Deep love, without condition. I am grateful for those moments, because they remind me to look more often for reasons TO love someone, instead of reasons not to love them.

Not one of us is perfect. Not one of us has never hurt another of us, or disappointed another of us. Not one of us is everything we hoped and wished for. We are all very different and separate people. We may go a long time without seeing each other, and sometimes we will have fights. That's okay. My goal is to someday be able to say that I love each member of my family, without condition.