Josiah's Fire E-Book

Tahni Cullen

• Herausgeber: BroadStreet Publishing Group, LLC
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 366

Beschreibung

Where is hope when there is no hope?   First-time parents Joe and Tahni Cullen were thrust into the confusing world of autism when their toddler, Josiah, suddenly lost his ability to speak, play, and socialize. The diagnosis: Autism Spectrum Disorder. In their attempts to see Josiah recover and regain speech, the Cullens underwent overwhelming physical, emotional, and financial struggles. While other kids around him improved, Josiah only got worse. Five years later, Josiah, who had not been formally taught to read or write, suddenly began to type on his iPad profound paragraphs about God, science, history, business, music, strangers, and heaven. Josiah's eye-opening visions, heavenly encounters, and supernatural experiences forced his family out of their comfort zone and predictable theology, catapulting them into a mind-blowing love-encounter with Jesus. - Find hope in hardship. - Catch a fresh glimpse of heaven. - Learn to hear and trust God's voice. - Identify the roles of Father, Son, and Spirit. - Be aware of the workings of angels, and much more! Follow a trail of truth into Josiah's mysterious world, and see why his family and friends can no longer stay silent.

Leseprobe

Praise for Josiah’s Fire

“Josiah’s Fire is a must-read. You will be encouraged, compelled, and deeply moved to see God’s love and power in and through little Josiah. As you ponder this young autistic boy’s amazing visitations and revelations, heavenly dimensions and mysteries of the kingdom of God will be revealed to you.”

– PATRICIA KING, author, television host, and founder of Patricia King Ministries, www.patriciaking.com

“In the mystery and majesty of God, He divinely places His glory in clay pots. Indeed, His grace is sufficient and even magnified in our weaknesses. Occasionally, it seems the Lord takes extra efforts to display His wonders. Such is the case in the life of young Josiah. This precious pure vessel is a steward of a mighty gift from the Holy Spirit. Get ready because the authentic testimonies in this mind-blowing book will leave you shocked, stunned, and hungry for more of God.”

– DR. JAMES W.GOLL, founder of God Encounters, Life Language trainer, and international best-selling author

“Families are struggling. This out-of-this-world book offers fresh hope.”

– DR. KEVIN LEMAN,New York Times best-selling author of The Birth Order Book

“Have you ever wondered if God, heaven, and angels are actually real? If so, you will enjoy Josiah’s Fire, a fascinating true story of a little boy caught in the grip of autism. Everything comes crashing down on the Cullen family—until Josiah learns to communicate. Although Josiah is limited in his physical body by autism, his writings impact the world. Get ready to encounter a sign and a wonder as you learn God’s ways through the eyes and ears of this young messenger!”

– BRIAN AND CANDICE SIMMONS,The Passion Translation project

“Don’t miss this profound book! Josiah’s Fire is a captivating true account of a family that encountered faith, hope, and a vision of the heavenlies through an extraordinary journey with their autistic son. This book is not only for families of children with disabilities—it’s a dramatic, spellbinding story that will increase your desire to draw closer to God and hear his voice, and it will deepen your longing for heaven.”

– CAROL KENT, internationally acclaimed speaker and award-winning author of When I Lay My Isaac Down

“Josiah’s Fire is one of those books you can’t put down. A family faces a profound challenge, but a small child leads the way in a beautiful, hope-filled journey to a new way of living and looking at faith, love, and the way the universe just might really work (if we could only see the world as Josiah does). Josiah is an unlikely poet and prophet, and I’m certain you’ll fall in love with him as I did.”

– SUSY FLORY,New York Times author or coauthor of eleven books, including the runaway bestseller, Thunder Dog

“Josiah’s Fire opened a whole new world of thinking to me, making me ponder how God moves and communicates to those who have ears to hear. I found myself rapt with attention as I moved from page to page, often on the verge of tears, often on the verge of laughing out loud. Why ‘on the verge’? Because what I read awed me to the degree that it was near impossible to cry or laugh. This excellently written book will give hope to many. Truly a story that had to be told.”

– MIKE SHREVE, pastor, evangelist, and bestselling author of 65 Promises from God for Your Child and In Search of the True Light

“Josiah’s Fire is the breath of heaven released through one boy on earth. Josiah’s amazing supernatural journey is filled with life-altering God-encounters and angelic visitations. The Father chose Josiah as an emissary to share revelation directly from the throne. He shares many truths about heaven and the nature of the triune God. Through Josiah’s parents’ struggle with their son’s autistic personality, God reveals his love and concern for all people, no matter what handicaps or difficulties they face. Full of hope and love, these pages will empower you to live from victory to victory.”

– JOAN HUNTER, author and evangelist, www.joanhunter.org

“Josiah’s Fire is informative, compelling, and poignant, immediately drawing readers into a wild, fascinating ride with the Cullen family. Biblical truth meets heartfelt joy when little Josiah sees and hears in a realm that’s unavailable to most of us. This is one of the most inspiring true stories I have come across in a very long time.”

– KATHI MACIAS, speaker and award-winning author of more than fifty books, www.kathimacias.com

“What this young autistic boy teaches us about heaven and earth is mind-boggling and fascinating as it lifts the veil between two worlds. Tahni Cullen will never get over the diagnosis that changed her family forever, but through the devastation, a miracle is born. Josiah gives his mom, and all the rest of us, a glimpse into that place where pain-filled people can laugh again. Cheryl Ricker, a masterful storyteller of true stories, coauthors this intriguing tale of supernatural touches and crazy love. Brace yourself: Josiah’s Fire will grip you with holy flames from the first few words.”

– ANITA AGERS BROOKS, CPT, CCS, CLTF, common trauma expert, international speaker, and award-winning author of Getting through What You Can’t Get Over

“Wow. Josiah’s Fire. Total wonderment. It is otherworldly, utterly remarkable, nearly unbelievable. And yet, I humbly and reverently believe in a God who can do anything, with anyone, at any time, and in any way he sees fit. Few are graced with gifts as special as have been given to this precious boy. I can’t help but stand in awe of the Good Gift-Giver himself. To God be the glory. Great things he is doing through this amazing family’s must-read story.”

– CHERI KEAGGY, Dove Award-winning recording artist, song writer, speaker, blogger, www.cherikeaggy.com

“I’ve learned that the ones who society considers least, God often uses most. And adversity often puts us on God’s varsity. Josiah is no exception. This remarkable lad has autism, but autism doesn’t have him! There’s no limit to what God can do with a totally surrendered life. This powerful book will stretch and propel you on your journey with Jesus. Buy one for yourself and ten to give away! Your friends will thank you for it.”

– FRANK SHELTON, author, Fox News contributor, Washington, DC field representative for My Hope with Billy Graham and the Franklin Graham Decision America Tour

“Scripture states we must become like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven. Josiah’s Fire is a story of redemption, hope, and God’s big love speaking through a speechless little boy with autism. Young Josiah has a spiritual depth unmatched by many adults, and a knowledge of heaven not found in books. It’s also a story of a mother’s love, persistence, and sacrifice to help the world hear words her son cannot vocalize. Brilliant writing turns this true story into a page-turning, awe-inspiring glimpse into a gifted mind and a miracle-performing God. You’ll want to read this book even if you don’t know about autism but want to know more about heaven.”

– JANET THOMPSON, founder of Woman to Woman Mentoring, speaker, freelance editor, and author of eighteen books, including Forsaken God? Remembering the Goodness of God Our Culture Has Forgotten

“Josiah’s Fire is an amazing experience! Through a surprising and unusual communication method, a young boy struggling with severe autism opens a world of stunning intelligence, mysterious insights—and heaven. The descriptions of angelic activity are extremely convincing. But more than that, you’ll view God through new eyes. Josiah will hold you spellbound with his beyond-captivating experiences in heaven that are both revelatory and revolutionary. Very few books have held me captive, making me sacrifice sleep and time—but this book did! Read it and you’ll find yourself more empowered to joyfully participate with heaven on earth.”

– MARK HENDRICKSON, Dwelling Place Ministries, author of Supernatural Provision

“Touching! Riveting! Inspirational … hard to put it down. I highly recommend Josiah’s Fire!”

– DR. JEFFREY SEIF, Distinguished Professor of Biblical and Jewish Studies, Kings University

“I am a journalist and a skeptic and can spot a fake a mile away. Believe me, Josiah Cullen is no fake. Without knowing a thing about me, Josiah wrote twenty-three details of my life that no one could have possibly known except through the Spirit of God. This ten-year-old, non-verbal autistic boy gave me messages that changed my life, always bringing me back to Jesus and the Word of God. Josiah’s Fire is life changing from start to finish and had me in tears before I finished.”

– MAX DAVIS, author of more than thirty books, including Dead Dog Like Me and When Jesus Was a Green-Eyed Brunette

“As Josiah’s former ABA therapist, I had the pleasure of witnessing his hard work and courage. After Josiah’s communication breakthrough, Tahni and I discussed the validity of his statements, and Josiah and I typed letters back and forth about his challenges, desires, and fears. Josiah is a great example of how a soul lies beyond the physical, and why it is so vital to treat all children with equity and worth. These children have abilities that can revolutionize people who are open to receive their gifted messages. Josiah’s voice opens doors to spiritual understanding, and I am excited for him to share it with the world.”

– KIMBERLY ZESZUTEK, MA, NCC, LPC, intern, Filtering Light Counseling in Portland, Oregon

“I couldn’t put it down. Josiah’s Fire is a story of hope and joy in the midst of pain. The entertaining and refreshing stories make you look at life through new lenses. Josiah’s insights are amazing. His life reminds us that it’s a blessing to look at light over darkness and that we don’t need to let our pain and disabilities hinder us from our God-given destinies.”

– DR. GERSHOM SIKAALA, author of You Shall Live and A New Dimension of Glory, www.gershomsikaala.org

“I am privileged to know Tahni Cullen personally. She is a woman of the Word and prayer, who loves God deeply and lives what she believes. A few weeks after I first met Tahni, her nine-year-old son, Josiah, gave me a powerful message that spoke profoundly and personally about my ministry and the people-group I work with thousands of miles away. Josiah’s words were so unbelievably accurate that they reduced me to tears and awe-struck worship of God. Each chapter of Josiah’s Fire helps us better understand a personal, ever-present God who longs to communicate with us, redeem our pain, and draw us closer to his heart.”

– REV. RUTH TUTTLE CONARD, author of Designer Women: Made by God

“It is impossible that any young child, let alone a child with autism, could ever contain this level of remarkable insight. Truly, Josiah has been given a gift directly from the Lord. A gift that will grow, transform, and teach others to see and understand God’s treasures in the deep places. I highly recommend this beautiful, transparent, page-turner story of a grappling family that finds radical hope in the most surprising way.”

– PAUL RAPLEY, international healing evangelist, www.paulrapley.com

“I have known the Cullen family for fifteen years, and Tahni is a trusted friend and ministry partner, who I have watched respond in obedience to God in the most trying circumstances. I know how incredibly difficult it was for her to face the risks of sharing this story. Tahni cared more about God’s thoughts toward her than anything else. Each chapter, rich in the reality of God’s love and presence, is a reassurance that our ‘yes’ to God is always worth it.”

– SUSAN LENNARTSON, minister, author, speaker, coach, grandmother in touch with autism

“This compelling, beautifully written true story unveils what can happen when an ordinary family is thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Not only does Josiah’s Fire sing with uniqueness, style, and all the right story elements of a notable page-turner, but it grabs your heart from start to finish and won’t let go.”

– DENISE GEORGE, author of thirty books, nonfiction writing teacher, www.bookwritingbootcamp.org

“Amazing, inspiring, true story about my new favorite little boy, Josiah. This book shouts from the mountaintops that nothing is impossible with God! When you buy this book, be sure to get a second copy for someone who struggles to trust him. Step by step, you’ll be blown away by the honest fact that God not only has a detailed plan for you and your family members—but also that he loves to fulfill his plan for those with less than perfect faith. Read this book, and you will proclaim as I did, ‘Is there anything too difficult for our God?’ ”

– STEVE SHULTZ, founder of The Elijah List

BroadStreet Publishing Group, LCC

LLC Racine, Wisconsin, USA

BroadStreetPublishing.com

Josiah’s Fire: Autism Stole His Words, God Gave Him a Voice

Copyright © 2016 Tahni Cullen and Cheryl Ricker

ISBN-13: 978-1-4245-5140-8 (softcover)

ISBN-13: 978-1-4245-5141-5 (e-book)

Some names and descriptive details have been changed to maintain the privacy of those involved in this story.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2007, 2013, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked KJV are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.

Stock or custom editions of BroadStreet Publishing titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, ministry, fundraising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

Cover design by Garborg Design

Interior design and typeset by Katherine Lloyd, theDESKonline.com

Printed in the United States of America

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AUTHORS’ NOTE

When little Josiah had his communication miracle on the iPad in 2012, he typed a single stream of words without spaces or punctuation, all saved verbatim. For readability, we have added spaces and punctuation and corrected occasional misspellings. For brevity, we have omitted words and sentences.

CONTENTS

Prologue: Josiah’s Fire

1

I’m Losing Him

2

Worst Nightmare

3

The Race Is On

4

Sensing God

5

Slam

6

Open Door

7

Marriage Meltdown

8

Rapid Prompting

9

Out of This World

10

Major Discoveries

11

Song of Heaven

12

Divine Directives

13

How God Sees Us

14

Tune to Joy

15

Healing

16

Old Friendships

17

Limitless Love

18

New Classroom

19

Open Heaven

20

Trinity Talk

21

High Places

22

Angels

23

Sponsors and Factories

24

Mansions

25

Trial the Truth

26

Kid Stuff

27

Sound of Music

28

All about Love

29

Work It Out

30

Heaven Unsilenced

Discussion Guide

From the Authors

About the Authors

Prologue

Josiah’s Fire

No known cause. No known cure. Lifelong.

The diagnosis hammered in my head like a prison sentence as we sped home in our Corolla. The forty-minute trek against the howling wind felt like a trip to the cemetery to bury our dreams.

I’d grieved deep when Dad died, but I’d been able to move on. Not so with this kind of progressive death, which threatened to crush me with its ongoing torment.

I glanced back at Josiah whose sky-blue eyes, once full of life, now stared blankly into space. Where did he go? To that same faraway place that held his words hostage? Prized words like Mama, Daddy, cookie, and bumblebee. Would I even remember their sounds from his lips?

Joe and I absorbed thick silence while the unseen beast of autism pressed with its loud taunt. “I’ll make your life crazy difficult,” it hissed. “No matter where you go, I’ll be right there in the backseat following you.”

1

I’m Losing Him

“If I could talk, I would never get bad news.”

– Josiah Cullen

August 18, 2007

When a nuclear bomb explodes, no one can predict the extent of its devastation. I’ll never forget the day when I discovered this also applies to an emotional bomb.

As Joe and I hunkered around the dining table with his parents, the clock ticked, the barbeque sauce dripped off our plates in the sink, and I smiled at the thought of our twenty-two-month-old, lost in his dream world down the hall.

Joe’s parents had returned for their second visit in two weeks, this time to take their car to the Twin Cities, because apparently, we had a better selection of British car parts than the shops in North Dakota.

Frank leaned in, talking in his usual casual New York accent. “This isn’t an easy topic, but we need to share something with you.”

I straightened. “Okay …”

“We don’t want to alarm you,” he said.

Too late. My mind had already shot into danger mode. Was it Frank or Kathy? Was one of them sick? What could be wrong?

A few hours earlier, Pastor Bob had preached about storms. “You’re either going into one, you’re in one, or you’re coming out.” His message reminded me of Joe, who had a stroke four years ago. It also reminded me of Dad, who had a fatal heart attack four years before that. These past four years, though, had been nothing but smooth sailing. God had given us a charming house in a quaint neighborhood. He’d even thrown in a home daycare down the street and a nearby playmate for our son.

Josiah. What a gift. That morning as we sat in Kohl’s parking lot, I’d laughed aloud as he and Joe played eye games in the rearview mirror. I loved their bond, and I could hardly wait to see how it would grow through the years.

The room quieted as Frank cleared his throat. “Josiah doesn’t seem as interested in us as he used to be. Uh, how do I say this? Toddlers are usually more interactive.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we don’t want to alarm you, but we heard a radio interview on NPR, and they talked about autism.”

“Autism?” Thick clouds rolled into my thoughts as the word twisted my gut. What was he suggesting … that something was wrong with our son?

“We’re not saying we know what’s going on. We have no idea. But we noticed a few things that got us thinking.”

Joe stayed calm. “What kind of things?”

“Well, last weekend he wasn’t as interested in his cousin Keenan as usual. Then, when Kathy and I returned home, we talked about how he acted when he came to our house three months ago. He kept looking at the patterns in the chain link fence. Kinda all business about it.”

The clouds darkened, gathering force. Unwelcomed images flashed across my mind. The cousin, the fence, the staring. I’d read articles about autism, and I’d always breathed a sigh of relief, saying, Thank God that isn’t my child.

Kathy shrugged. “We just think it would be good for you to get him checked out.”

“But he’s reached all his milestones,” I said. “He claps, he talks, he points. Nobody’s ever mentioned this before, not even his daycare provider.”

Frank swatted the air. “It’s probably nothing. We just thought we ought to mention it.”

Probably nothing? How could it be nothing when I felt this sudden slam of heaviness? The very thought threatened to rip the picture of our lives into a thousand jagged pieces. Right now, one puzzle piece in particular nagged at me.

The previous weekend, I’d pushed Josiah’s stroller through the glass tunnel aquarium at the Mall of America, and he’d acted out of character. While sharks and stingrays swam above and around him, Josiah seemed to look through them as if they were invisible. As if he couldn’t see their bright colors, saucer-wide eyes, and round gaping mouths. To put it bluntly, the kid looked half-stoned.

He’s under the weather, I’d told myself. The poor guy had just finished his second round of antibiotics from pinkeye that jumped from one eye to the other.

I glanced at my in-laws. “Look, if there’s something wrong, we’d definitely want to know about it. Thanks for sharing. I’ll be sure to get him checked out.”

The next day, we dragged our tired bodies around the Children’s Museum and made small talk about wooden blocks and optical illusions. On the outside, we looked like everybody else: a fun-loving, memory-making family. On the inside, however, thunder cracked.

As Josiah ran from place to place, climbing and hiding in a maze, my mind raced even faster. Another puzzle piece sprang to mind. Joey, the sweet redhead gal who ran Josiah’s daycare, had recently told me that Josiah had been pulling kids’ hair. I’d brushed the worry aside, chalking it up to another passing phase. Joey hadn’t taken it seriously, so why should I? But the incident suddenly sparked new meaning. What if it meant something more?

My eyes darted like magnets, fastening to every long-haired little girl who could be a target for Josiah’s eager fingers.

Stop, I scolded myself, or this heightened awareness will drive you mad.

I’d hoped this outing would prove my in-laws wrong and that Josiah would bounce back to his same old fun-loving self, but so far he hadn’t. As long as I saw him through this new threatening lens, I couldn’t help but scrutinize his every move. A big black box had been opened, and a host of ugly possibilities came tumbling out.

Josiah’s doctor’s appointment couldn’t come fast enough. Dr. Roger had always leveled my mommy fears with his sage, good-natured advice. When Josiah was slow in learning to walk, the doctor gave him a thorough checkup and assured me he’d be fine, just fine.

“Everyone learns to walk at a different pace,” he said. “Boys are slower to catch on, but I tell you what. If Josiah doesn’t walk by the time he’s twenty-four months, then we can worry.”

A few weeks later, something clicked between Josiah’s head and feet, and the little guy made up for lost time, leaving my worries in the dust, dozens of steps behind.

When I told Dr. Roger about my in-laws’ recent observations, he spoke with his usual calmness. “Josiah looks fine. I don’t yet have any real concerns. What do you say we give it another six months and check him then?”

“Or what?” I said. “What are my other options?”

“Well, I really don’t think he needs it, but if it would help you feel better, why don’t I go ahead and refer him to the Courage Center for more testing.”

Over the next three weeks, Josiah spiraled downward—fast. His words began to disappear into thin air like smoke. Words we had worked on together. Words we had celebrated that brought his colorful personality to our world. Where did they go? And why did his eyes suddenly look so hollow and vacant, like someone had switched off his light? He faded in and out like a bulb with a loose connection. What was wrong with our son?

Grief-stricken, Joe and I quarantined ourselves in the house over Labor Day weekend, dragging around our bodies in a fog. Josiah kept flicking the lights on and off, on and off. He also repeatedly pushed buttons on his toys. Beep, beep, beep.

“Josiah, look at Mommy.” I spider-tickled my fingers up his belly.

Nothing.

I poked my head under a blanket and stuck my face in front of his. Still no response. He stared into some kind of no man’s land of blankness.

“Joe, he looks like he’s been hijacked!”

Tissues couldn’t hold my tears, so I buried my face in a towel and sobbed. How could the doctor have been so wrong? How could God let this happen to our child?

Josiah’s testing at the Courage Center turned into therapy three times a week, but they still couldn’t give us any concrete answers. Neither could the Early Childhood Intervention people who came over for in-home assessments.

Life became a balancing act as Joe and I took turns driving Josiah across town and back to daycare. Following each stint, we hightailed it back to our jobs having no clue when this high-speed spinning in circles would stop. What was wrong with our son?

At the end of September, Aneta, one of Josiah’s more experienced therapists, offered the slightest puff of hope. “I really don’t think Josiah has autism,” she said.

I felt my face brighten. “You don’t?”

“No. He doesn’t present all the normal signs. I think it would be good to get his eyes and ears tested. Maybe it’s something else.”

My mind raced. Eyes and ears—of course. Why hadn’t we thought of that? Everybody knows how hearing can throw a person off.

Armed with fresh hope, I drove Josiah to an ear, nose, and throat specialist in Maplewood. Josiah sat on my lap in an airtight room while snippets of faint sounds piped through internal wall speakers. Music, beeps, whispers, puffs, animal sounds, high-pitched whistles. Every time the sounds reached his ears, he turned in the direction they came from. Sadly, his ears worked fine.

On October fourth, we celebrated Josiah’s second birthday by taking him to Stillwater to get his eyes tested. It offered only a slim thread of hope, but I held it like a lifeline.

A skinny girl led us to a quiet room, and I became Josiah’s human straightjacket to harness his squirming body. When she sprayed dilating solution in his eyes, he cried, screamed, and flailed—all at the same time.

Thirty minutes later, the doctor tried to get Josiah’s attention with a light-up spinner, while I did my best to protect my face from his thrashing head. The doctor held magnifiers in front of Josiah’s eyes to see if his pupils would focus.

“Sorry to break this to you,” he said, crossing his arms. “But your son is very far-sighted and needs glasses.”

The eight hundred dollars we spent on two tiny pairs gave us more hope than we’d known in weeks.

As soon as we got home, I slipped those babies over his nose and tried to teach him to keep them on. “Here we go!” Holding his hands at his sides, I broke into song: “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.” We made it ten seconds before he ripped them off. “Good job, JoJo. Let’s go a bit longer next time. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream.”

I repeated this day and night—but still he wouldn’t look at us.

After a week of working with him and the glasses, two of his therapists sat us down with grim faces. “We too were hopeful,” one of them said. “But this is clearly more than a vision problem.”

I went limp. Of course it was. My fears came flooding back.

“Mom, we’re losing him,” I cried into the phone.

Over the last several years, Mom had been a pillar to me, a woman of faith who knew exactly what to say and when. She lived miles away, but she might as well have lived across the street for all the closeness we shared.

“I know it’s incredibly hard, honey.”

I choked down a sob. “He’s lost his words, he’s become a picky eater, and he wakes up in the middle of the night with horrible night terrors. His eyes are open, but he can’t snap out of his dreams. Mom, it’s terrifying. He’s a completely different kid.”

“You’ll get through this, beautiful. Josiah might be your baby, but you’re my baby and I’m here for you. Let me pray.”

When Dad passed away, I’d comforted Mom when she thought she couldn’t go on. “Yes, you can,” I assured her, “with God’s help.” I called her throughout the day to read Scripture, cry, and pray. I hugged her up and down with my words, reaching out to her like a hand gripping a feather. Now it was her turn to hammock me in God’s strength.

“Father, send Tahni and Joe your peace and wisdom. Reveal anything hidden. Show them what to do next. Hold my little grandson close in your care. In Jesus’ name.”

After I hung up, I collapsed at the kitchen table where it had all begun three months before. Where are you, God?

I’d grown up in a Baptist church and school, even collected a little Holy Spirit fire along the way. I’d prayed for Josiah’s protection since pregnancy: Lord, cover this child under your wings. Make him or her a light to the nations.

How could he be a light to the nations when he had a completely switched-off circuit?

2

Worst Nightmare

“A jail of autism is no picnic.”

– Josiah Cullen

October 2007

I hunkered under a blanket on my basement sectional, punching Josiah’s symptoms into Google. Please, I thought, anything but the A-word. But it kept cropping up like bad apples on a slot machine.

I spent hours whipping through sites, then I found a video comparing a typical child with an autistic one. My body tightened as a therapist gave each child a candle, a pretend birthday cake, and a mound of Play-Doh. The typical child stuck the candle in the cake, but the autistic one aimlessly ground it into the Play-Doh.

“Typical kids learn through imitation,” the narrator explained. “Children with autism don’t know how to imitate or pretend. They have broken mirror neurons, which makes them lack social cues.”

The workers gave the children a Big Bird doll, a cup, and a spoon. The typical child pretended to feed Big Bird, while the autistic one banged his spoon on the tray.

Tears burned my eyes as they handed the children little cars. The typical child played with the car, rolling it on the floor like Josiah used to do, but the autistic one spun the wheels in a way that looked all too familiar. Josiah had forgotten how to play with cars.

A mountain-sized weight pressed my heart, threatening to crush me. I ran upstairs past the baskets of dirty laundry, past our smiling family wall portraits, past Josiah napping in his room, and stepped between Joe and his Sunday football game.

“Interception!” he cried, craning to see around me.

“Joe, I need to show you something. I know what’s wrong with Josiah.”

He followed me downstairs in silence, and I showed him the video with the clear-cut comparison. Neither of us could deny it. The child with autism acted just like Josiah.

Sadness cloaked Joe’s eyes as he draped an arm over me and pulled me to his chest. When I stepped back, his eyes looked red and glassy. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Baby, we’ll lick this.” His usually strong base voice cracked. “We’ll do whatever it takes to help our son.”

Joe threw himself into autism research.

“I have an idea,” he said, looking up from his laptop in the kitchen. “Jason, the sports blogger I follow, has a son with autism. I’ll get in touch with him and ask questions.”

Joe’s blogger friend advised us to immerse Josiah in intensive therapy for six or seven hours a day. The first five years are the most critical, he wrote. Kids with autism have a much better chance of improvement if you get them into the right program.

Joe called around and found Partners in Excellence, a facility that offered full-time applied behavioral analysis therapy, and he set up a tour.

“This will be an adventure,” I told Josiah.

Joe opened the door to the building, and seconds later, a lady with warm, soulful blue eyes extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Keri, the director. Please come in.” Swiping her card, she unlocked a thick set of doors and ushered us into a room with a massive indoor trampoline and multiple shelves of toys. Play stations transformed the place into a large make-believe village, complete with a pretend doctor’s office, kitchen, store, and school. Each station contained tall plastic bins and every kind of costume under the sun.

“We do everything we can to stir the child’s imagination.” Keri’s tender voice lowered my stress level, but I still had to fight back tears. We’d dreamed of touring preschool buildings, not therapy centers.

Two smiley therapists stepped over to Josiah with kid-friendly gusto. “Ready to play?”

I couldn’t believe what I saw next. Josiah walked away from us and took off with these complete strangers, without even looking back. What happened to the toddler who had recently battled separation anxiety? The boy who used to cry, “Mama, Mama,” whenever we dropped him off at kids’ church? What I wouldn’t do to hear those persistent cries. My little JoJo. Did he even remember me? Of course he’d walk off with strangers. Why wouldn’t he? He was already a thousand miles away.

Keri led us down a hall and cracked open a door. “This is our Bridges classroom. It’s for kids preparing to transition to public kindergarten next year.”

Their lively back-and-forth banter and happy-go-lucky ways reminded me of how Josiah used to be. If Partners therapists could help these kids, perhaps they could help Josiah too. And maybe he could even join their class someday.

Keri closed the door and led us through therapy swings, funny-looking jumpy things, and a winding maze of cubicles.

“Each of these spaces belongs to a child,” she told us. “Each cubicle contains a small table, two plastic chairs, a shelf, and a pocket organizer with each child’s favorite motivators. Children go to them several times a day for drills.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “Drills? What do those involve?”

“Different things. For one, we teach using a reward system. The children match things to get a reward, label things to get a reward, and sort things to get a reward. It even works for washing their hands. They wet their hands to get a reward, lather for a reward, and rinse to get a reward.”

Gosh, it sounded more like a dog-training academy. Reducing basic tasks to the tiniest ritualistic steps.

Keri patted my shoulder. “You have an advantage by sending him here early. Your two-year-old would be our youngest, but we’ll pour ourselves into him and give him all the extra help he needs.”

I could tell from Joe’s face that she’d won him over.

“When can he start?” I asked.

“As soon as he has an official medical diagnosis for insurance.”

Joe paced our living room. “This is nuts,” he said. “I called the Alexander Center, the University of Minnesota, and Children’s Hospital. Everybody has a waiting list between four months and a year.”

“What should we do?” I asked.

“Well, I set up something with the Alexander Center because they had the shortest list, but I think we need a plan B.”

That’s when I found a qualified psychologist who agreed to come to our home, observe Josiah, and give him an official evaluation.

The white-haired man who made himself at home looked like he’d stepped out of the history books. He tested Josiah using little triangles for sorting and toy cars that looked like they’d been teleported from the fifties.

At the end of our visit he wanted me to complete a form that was so thick it could have passed for an SAT exam. Filling it out, I even needed a number two pencil to darken the circles.

When the expensive report finally arrived in the mail, I dissected the envelope with kid gloves, knowing these forms could be more detrimental to Josiah’s future than a college rejection letter.

I eagerly flipped through, but when I came to the last line, I froze: Inconclusive for Autism Spectrum Disorder.

My voice trembled as I called the psychologist. “My son needs help as soon as possible, and the only way we can get him in our choice center is if you give him an official diagnosis. You say he doesn’t present all the signs, but you saw for yourself that he shows most of them. Would you please reconsider and tell me my son has autism.”

“Fair enough,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

Only then did I exhale a thousand particles of stress.

Josiah jumped into Partners with both feet, and we felt a rush of fresh dreams and possibilities.

“Sweet boy,” said Kim, a kind therapist in her early twenties. “We’ll figure out what motivates him and move forward from there.”

The therapists quickly learned he liked music. When Joe and I visited, we watched them sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” and “The Wheels on the Bus.” We attended parent hour with the Pod 10 crew and befriended the parents of Josiah’s young peer group. Since our old friends no longer knew how to relate to us, this came as a welcomed relief.

Kim smiled whenever she mentioned Josiah’s efforts. She loved that boy, and I loved the bond they shared.

At parent meetings and trainings, therapists told us how hard Josiah worked. This could only mean one thing: we were on the right track and heading for a breakthrough.

After a month into Partners, the Alexander Center called. “We have an opening for Josiah’s official evaluation.” We already had a psychologist’s official diagnosis, but we needed more clarity and professional certainty. A detailed analysis would explain the severity of Josiah’s autism, and the doctors could give us medical direction and advice about what to expect in the future.

For two long days we saw medical and speech doctors, occupational therapists, and childhood development specialists. More professionals in white coats than angels in a Christmas play.

Joe and I sat beside our two-year-old and filled out copious paperwork. During breaks, we thanked God for portable DVD players and friends like Tanya, who earned the lifesaver-of-the-year award for watching Josiah and his endless Praise Baby videos.

At the end of the second day, they called us into the boardroom to share their findings. Five doctors gathered around the table while I tried to ignore the Kleenex box in the middle.

The pediatric psychologist cleared his throat and handed us a navy folder with three big words branded across the front: Autism Spectrum Disorder. So that was it. My son’s assessment summed up in one big ugly label. My throat felt dry as I opened the cover.

They took turns giving us the lowdown on Josiah’s assessments. His skills ranked painfully low. I saw places in the report that showed how kids his age had mastered certain skills where Josiah practically flat-lined. In some instances he dipped as low as a nine-month-old. Major gaps and lacks screamed at me in almost every skills category.

Whenever the men in white highlighted another gap, it took an elephant-sized bite out of my hopes. This had to be worse than getting straight Fs in college. Seeing your once-normal child’s lack of abilities in black and white had a way of punching you in the gut and leaving you black and blue.

Joe looked them in the eyes. “We know he’s delayed, but how bad do you think his autism is going to be?”

Their faces stayed cerebral as a medical doctor spoke up. “He’s rather young to make that kind of prediction, but it’s good you caught it early.”

I squared back my shoulders. “You can’t tell us anything more?”

A bearded doctor shook his head. “All we can really say about autism is that there’s no known cause, no known cure, and it’s lifelong.”

His words felt like a prison sentence in a courtroom. “Isn’t there anything else we can do? Like special diets and alternative medicine? I’ve done a little research on dairy-free, gluten-free diets. What about that whole biomedical approach?”

Their eyebrows shot up, and the medical doctor sighed. “That’s old folk wisdom. I’m not going to tell you how to spend your money, but those findings are purely anecdotal and experiential. Parents report the same thing with placebos. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my money on any of that jazz. Keeping him at Partners is good though.”

The others nodded while the medical doctor crossed his arms as if he’d saved the day.

When I collapsed into the car beside Joe, I noticed a pamphlet sticking out of the folder they gave me, so I pulled it out. What? Identification bracelets for kids with autism? You mean they expected these kids to run away and this special bracelet was supposed to help us find them? I threw it on the floor and stomped on it. If what those doctors said was true, it would take a whole lot more than a bracelet to bring him back.

Joe reached for my hand as we drove home in silence. I glanced at Josiah whose breathing slowed as he drifted into slumber land.

My beautiful boy. How I wish I could trade places with you ...

His eyes moved back and forth behind his lids. Where did he go under those clear pools of blue that used to brighten whenever he saw us? After naptime, I’d kiss his pale plump cheeks and tell him, “It’s time to play, sweet bear.” Now whenever he woke up, he pulled us into an entirely different world.

The wind picked up against our Corolla, and our forty-minute trek across the metro felt like a trip to the cemetery to bury our dreams.

I thought of when Dad died. He had just finished one of Mom’s home-cooked meals, sat with her on the couch, dangled his arm around her, and said, “I think we need to call the doctor.”

Mom stepped out for a second, and when she returned she found him collapsed on the floor. Minutes later, he died in the ambulance. Fast, and without warning.

I grieved deep, but in time, I’d moved on. This beast called autism, however, threatened to torment me indefinitely. “I’ll make your life crazy difficult,” it hissed. “No matter where you go, I’ll be right there in the backseat following you.”

Was this ongoing death really my new reality?

Goodbye future proms and teaching my son how to drive. I might as well forget about someday meeting his future wife. And so much for grandchildren.

Looking ahead, I only saw loss upon loss, uncertainties on every side, and a son who could be mostly oblivious to all of it.

3

The Race Is On

“Talking is hard for me. Men are meant to talk.”

– Josiah Cullen

January 2008

Joe and I slumped in a café near Partners like two drowning souls trying to yank each other out of the water.

“We’re gonna make it, Tahni. We’re doing everything we can.”

Joe’s blogger friend had been right about the importance of intervention in the first five years, but the narrowing window only made the urgency breathe down our necks with extra intensity.