The Hardest Thing God Has Ever Asked Me to Write

For the last month or so, I couldn’t shake it.

It just kept rising in my heart.

Write it.

I knew what God was asking me to do.

I also knew it was going to cost me something emotionally.

Even before I wrote the first word, I could feel the weight of it.

I could feel the fear trying to creep in.

I could feel the grief.

Not because I believed something bad was about to happen…

but because writing it required me to face the possibility that one day I won’t always be here.

Looking back now, I realize God wasn’t just asking me to write a guide.

He was preparing my heart to write it.

Over the last several days, I’ve poured hours and hours into something that has become the hardest thing I’ve ever written.

It’s called Welcome to Shia’s World.

Our son, Shia, is almost sixteen years old. He is non-speaking autistic.

For nearly sixteen years, I’ve had the privilege of learning his world.

Not just what he likes.

But how he experiences life.

What brings him peace.

What overwhelms him.

What helps him regulate.

What makes him feel safe.

What makes him laugh.

What helps him feel understood.

I named it Welcome to Shia’s World because that’s exactly what I hope it becomes.

Not a manual.

An invitation.

An invitation to step into his world.

To slow down enough to truly see him.

To understand his heart.

If someone ever turns those pages…

I don’t just want them to know how to care for my son.

I want them to know him.

As I wrote…

every page quietly asked me to face something I spend most days choosing not to think about.

The possibility that one day…

I won’t always be here.

It wasn’t really that thought that undid me.

As painful as that is…

What broke my heart even more was imagining Shia without me…

and no one truly knowing him.

No one understanding his world.

No one seeing beyond his autism.

No one knowing the little things that make all the difference.

That was harder.

Much harder.

Because as difficult as it has been to pour my heart onto these pages…

It would be even harder to leave them unwritten.

And something unexpected began happening.

With every page I finished…

a little more peace settled into my heart.

Not because every question disappeared.

But because everything I’ve carried in my heart for nearly sixteen years was finally finding its way onto paper.

There were moments I had to step away from my computer.

I cried.

I felt waves of anxiety rise.

Thoughts quietly slipped in that I never invited.

“Why now?”

“Is something bad going to happen?”

I didn’t want those thoughts.

I didn’t go looking for them.

But they came.

I didn’t camp there.

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t walk through them.

Over the last several days, every time fear tried to creep in, my eyes would drift to a little bear sticker on my refrigerator that simply says…

Faith over Fear.

It became a quiet reminder to trust God instead of the stories fear was trying to write.

A few days ago, a friend unexpectedly mailed me a piece of artwork titled Miracles Are Coming.

She had no idea what had been stirring in my heart.

I intentionally placed it beside the bear.

For months, I’ve also been noticing 9:11.

If I’m honest…

every time I saw it, I’d feel a little wave of fear come over me.

My mind wanted to connect it with an emergency.

Tonight, I searched the Scriptures for chapter 9, verse 11.

I landed in Nehemiah.

“You divided the sea before them, so that they passed through the midst of the sea on dry land.”

— Nehemiah 9:11

I just sat there.

The bear.

Faith over Fear.

The artwork.

A sea being parted.

Miracles Are Coming.

Nehemiah 9:11.

In that moment, something shifted.

The same numbers that had quietly stirred a wave of fear in me for months suddenly became a reminder of God’s faithfulness.

Not because I believe He was warning me that something terrible is about to happen.

But because I believe He was gently reminding me that He is with me.

That He isn’t asking me to carry tomorrow.

He’s asking me to trust Him today.

That He isn’t asking me to figure out every “what if.”

He’s simply asking me to keep walking.

And maybe that’s what He’s been doing all along.

Not removing every wave of emotion.

But faithfully speaking truth louder than fear.

Parting the sea of fear.

Parting the sea of doubt.

Parting the sea of “what if.”

One truth at a time.

One reminder at a time.

One breadcrumb at a time.

Just enough for me to take the next step.

So tomorrow…

I’ll open my computer again.

I’ll keep writing.

Because if someone ever turns those pages…

I don’t just want them to know how to care for my son.

I want them to know him.

~~~~~~~

Part of the Breadcrumbs collection by Abby Lewis—true stories that gently invite us into a different way to live.

Continue reading: A Mother’s Gift Before God asked me to write the hardest thing I’ve ever written, He gently began preparing my heart. This is where that story begins.