From the moment my daughter made her debut into the world on a snowy February afternoon, she made it clear this was not going to be an easy ride. A complete novice in the realm of motherhood, I immediately felt out of my depth, turning to the “experts” to guide me through those turbulent first few months—experts my baby mostly ignored.

As she grew, however, more challenges continued to emerge—rigidity, sensory aversions, social communication difficulties, gastrointestinal issues, sleep disturbances—the list went on. She was downright spectacular in other ways too, of course. Yet, more often than not, I wasn’t focusing on that. No, I was more concerned with what she wasn’t doing—the differences that made both of us stand out from the crowd. Shamefully, I confess there were days when I longed for her to just be like everybody else. 

Finally, after almost five years of wondering and worrying, we had an answer: Autistic Spectrum Disorder. The diagnosis came as a great relief. I knew it would help us more effectively understand her mind, her behavior, and her world; open doors for support and services; and demand greater empathy from others in a way that hadn’t been possible before. But I also balked at the significance of such a defining label.

A torrent of questions raged through my mind, threatening to pull me into a spiral of doubt, worry, and fear: What would her future look like? Would she have meaningful relationships? How would she navigate school? Would she be happy, fulfilled, and accepted just as she was?

Pouring out my heart to God that night, I surrendered my doubts, fears, and many tears into the hands of the Almighty. His response resounded in my mind with piercing clarity. He wasn’t worried—and neither should I be. My daughter belonged to him first, after all. He knew her intimately (Jer. 1:5) and had a divine plan and purpose for her life. 

It was the jolt I needed to shift my perspective and start seeing my daughter through the eyes of her Creator. All this time, I’d been unwittingly viewing her through a lens of comparison, measuring her against unrealistic, worldly standards and misplaced expectations. Instead of delighting in her differences, I had often resented them or wished them away. In downplaying them and even apologizing for them at times, I was inadvertently diminishing God’s glorious handiwork.

God was teaching me that my daughter was not merely a lump of clay created to fit the mold of this world. She was clay in the hands of the Master Potter, who had molded her with tender love and exquisite care. He had crafted every remarkable detail of her being, even down to the hairs on her head, and formed her in his image to reflect his glory and make a unique, indelible mark on the world. He intended her to shine his light brightly and unapologetically for all the world to see—in a way that only she could. Yet, it was this very light that I had been hiding under a bushel, lest someone might see it. 

For so long, I had regarded the traits that set my daughter apart as problems to solve or challenges to overcome. Instead, God began to show me they were treasures to be celebrated—gifts he used to reveal himself, gently transform my heart, and impact his Kingdom.

My Daughter’s Differences Reveal the Character of God

Genesis 1:27 declares that we are each image-bearers of the God of the Universe, created in a unique way to reflect the character and nature of the Living God. My child’s creative, curious, gentle spirit, her compassion and empathy for all living things (with the exception of spiders), her determination and passion, her zany sense of humor, and her infectious, abundant joy for life all point directly to the Father. Her unique blend of characteristics reflects the different facets of the Creator—like a living, breathing kaleidoscope of color and light, through which I can see and experience God in wonderful and surprising new ways.

Isaiah 43:6–7 says, “ . . . bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the end of the earth, everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.” If my daughter was formed and made to reflect the glory of God, by dismissing her differences I was, by default, dismissing God. By choosing to embrace them, however, I was able to enter into a richer understanding of who God is. For that alone, I was truly thankful. 

My Daughter’s Differences Impact His Kingdom

As children of God, each one of us has been created with a plan and purpose in mind, divinely appointed to do “good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Eph. 2:10, NIV). Our distinct personalities, passions, talents, and traits are no happy coincidence. They are gifts he has given us to do his Kingdom work—and do it well (Rom. 12:6). We should, therefore, view them as carefully designed tools, equipping us to touch the hearts and lives of the hurting, the hungry, the broken, and the lost with God’s message of hope, restoration, and life.

In Romans 12:4, Paul concludes, “Since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be” (MSG). It prompts the question: Who am I to stop my daughter from being who she was made to be? She has been given a distinct voice within the symphony of Heaven to reach and bless those around her simply by being herself. And if I diminish that voice, I diminish her—and the vital Kingdom work God is doing in and through her.

My Daughter’s Differences Transformed My Heart

Looking back, I had wasted so much precious time and energy attempting to conform my daughter to the worldly standards Paul warns us about. But why was it so important to me that she ‘fit in’? Why did it take me so long to embrace who she truly was? 

One word: pride.

Parenting an autistic child forced me to confront my sinful nature—to look deep inside the dark, hidden corners of my heart and bring my prideful motives out into the open. It forced me to recognize the idols I was unwittingly bowing down to, and the areas of my heart that were in desperate need of the transformative power of God.

It wasn’t my child that needed to change—it was me. And God knew it. He may not have given me the ‘perfect’ child (such a child doesn't exist), but he has given me the child who is perfect for me. He blessed me with a child who would humble me and lead me to seek God’s opinion first. One who would direct me back to him, seeking daily the strength, patience, and wisdom I needed to face every new challenge and parent this precious child with grace and love. And through the rocky road of parenting this daughter of mine, Christ would finally help loosen the chains of my striving and perfectionism and help me find peace.

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Parenting a neurodiverse child—or any child—brings with it unique challenges. Being their advocate and biggest cheerleader in a world full of people who simply don’t see them the way you do can be exhausting and defeating work. The pursuit of “normalcy” can be an ever-present temptation. There are many days when the struggle feels overwhelming and endless. 

Yet, repeatedly, God draws us back to his Word, inviting us to look upon our offspring and their differences through hiseyes. For when we love them the way he does, we ultimately point them toward their Father, showing them who and whose they truly are.