One Year

March 17, 2015

Today is the day.

March 17, 2015 marks one year since our fateful day where we received Keller’s autism diagnosis.

One. Year.

What a difference a year makes.

A year ago we had a little boy who didn’t say any words and mostly communicated through grunts and cries.

A year later we have a little boy who talks and laughs and sings and dances and points and TRULY COMMUNICATES.  Hallelujah.

A year ago we had a little boy who wouldn’t make eye contact and literally screamed when people entered his presence.

A year later we have a boy who has FRIENDS at school, in our community, adults who love him, and new admirers daily.

A year ago we had a little boy who was obsessed with trucks and elephants and nothing more and who would choose those objects above all else.

A year later we have a little boy who still adores trucks and elephants along with cars, all animals, dinosaurs, books, bikes, and almost any other toy you can think of, but MOST enjoys his toys when he can play WITH another person.

A year ago we had a little boy who wouldn’t eat hardly anything and we have battled with food every single day.

A year later we have a little boy who still struggles with food but is trying new food all the time and learning to love family dinner time.

A year ago we had two parents who were overcome with grief and fear by the word ‘autism’ and who felt their dreams and hopes were dying right before them.

A year later we have two parents who are filled with HOPE and VISION for their son and trust in a God who promises the best and abundant life for our little boy.

A year ago we had a diagnosis that rocked our world and threatened everything we knew.

A year later we have a diagnosis that is a gift, a challenge, a tool, and something we embrace so that we can help Keller to be the best little man he can be.  We live with joy, hope, and trust in God’s promises.

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR CAN MAKE.

God gave me this scripture at the beginning of 2014:

“The LORD is my strength and my song; he has given me victory” – Psalm 118:14

Even in my darkest days God was always my strength and song and truly He has already given us victory.  What a year it has been, one I will never forget.  I will SING from the rooftops of what God has done in this year.

Happy diagnosis day, Keller James Prince.

We love you and love this journey with you.

Image via

I Have Something to Tell You

Telling people about Keller’s diagnosis of autism has been an interesting and foundational part of our new journey.  People obviously will want to process a diagnosis like this differently.  Some might want to keep it private, others want to share it with people they care about.

My tactic is to basically have verbal diaherrah and tell EVERY PERSON I SEE.

It’s seriously been insane.  I don’t know, but there is NOTHING else on my mind since Keller’s diagnosis and I can’t think of anything else.  Nothing else matters.

“How are you?” someone asks.  “Fine, but Keller has autism…”  “I’m hungry but Keller has autism…”  “Feeling sleepy but Keller has autism…”

It is the filter through which everything comes through.

We have been completely overwhelmed by the love poured out towards us.  People are praying for us and cheering us on.  It fills our every moment and my head spins with it all the time.  We are so thankful for those who are entering into it with us.

It has been surreal to tell my friends, my close community, here in South Africa.  I almost feel like there is a terminal illness in the family, as it shocks people and brings tears to the eyes.

What has touched me most as we have shared this news, is the simplicity and profound connection that can be given in love.  I have felt most loved when people have just listened.  When people have just been present.  When they have kept eye contact and just felt the moment.  People want to ‘cheer’ us on and I treasure that, but I haven’t felt like being cheered on.  I feel like we are hopelessly human and feeble and God is going to have to carry us every step of the way on this journey.  I am not perfect for this path, GOD IS PERFECT.  But not all have cheered us on.  Many have just grieved.  They have just been present.  They have just felt with us.

And then people have just been the hands and feet.  They have brought us food.  They have babysat.  They have come to see Keller and connect with him.  They have prayed for us in the middle of public places.  People have just done.  I honestly have felt similarly to what I felt when Kieren had her severe skin burn in 2010.  At first I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t get dressed, the most basic of functions were inconceivable.  Our friends have just come around us and helped us to live.

Friends, if someone you know or love tells you news similar to ours, I want to encourage you to just be with them.  Just be present.  Just cry.  Say ‘it’s not fair.’  Stomp your feet together.  And then help them to carry on.  Bring food.  Force them to go on dates.  Keep showing up and giving hugs and kisses.  Pray in public.  Just be with them.

Thank you, to those who have been on the other end of “I have something to tell you…” in the past two weeks. You have loved us well.  We pray you will keep loving us well.  We will need it.