Last Wednesday was my daughter’s birthday, so she wore her sparkly sneakers. Sadie is 23, and she has autism.
Two days before her birthday, President Trump made an announcement about autism. His remarks, he said, “will be as important as any single thing” he’s done. Citing studies that are mixed, and none of which prove causality, he linked acetaminophen use to autism and instructed pregnant moms to “fight like hell” not to take Tylenol.
If only any single thing were so simple, so straightforward.
Sadie was born with a rare chromosomal abnormality; genetics caused her autism. I did not cause it with Tylenol or by following—or not following—various vaccination recommendations for infant Sadie.
And yet—look into it, scientists; go on. Look into all of it on a large scale—methodically, apolitically. The administration also announced funding for more studies. Energy directed toward good science is good. Distractions that place blame? Not so good.
Also not good: the president and his health and human services secretary, Robert F. Kennedy Jr, have spoken of autism like it’s a curse, a horror show, a tragedy. I have grieved Sadie’s challenges, and she has struggled mightily; do not hear me saying her autism is not really, really hard. But no one’s diagnosis makes them a walking disaster.
My daughter is not a problem to be solved, but a person. She sings Christmas carols all year long. At the day’s end, I tuck her into bed and tell her “goodnight, friend,” and she says, “goodnight, friend” back. Last week, the birthday girl held very still as I tied a pink ribbon in her hair.
Sadie’s burden is not easy, but she wears it with courage—dignity, even. To spend 30 seconds with Sadie is to see the image of her maker, shining, smack dab on someone’s face.
If we are seeing right, shouldn’t we see everyone that way? The best we can do for one another is to see, really see, our personhood.
Because our worth is inherent, not calibrated or rationed out based on our abilities. And there’s this: we belong to one another. We’ve forgotten that, and who hasn’t felt that acutely in these divided days?
Let’s link arms and do better. Let’s bend toward the light.
Sadie, singing “Jingle Bells,” will lead the way.
Amen to all of this, Laura. Yes, it's hard, hard work that parents caring for a child with special needs, do; yes, it is unfair and causes deep pain to suggest parental responsibility for their plight; but most of all, yes to the truth that their is beauty in their personhood as ones made in the image of God, and there is solace to be had in that truth...
Thank you, friend!