Autism and Alleluias, by Kathleen Bolduc, is a series of spiritual reflections and faith-inspiring incidents in the life of a family with autism. The author is the mother of the family, as is often the case.
This is a short book, less than 150 pages, but it's a very emotional one. Some of the chapters are poetry, written by a thoughtful, deeply involved and spiritually alive mother and Christian. Most, however, are short stories with reflections of how her autistic son, Joel, brought her and the people around them closer to God. Each non-poetry chapter comes with a prayer at the end, somewhat reminiscent of those "daily devotions" books my parents read at the dinner table after the dishes have been cleared away.
Each and every one of these stories are written in the perspective of the mother, letting you have a glimpse into the trials she faced and overcame in the course of raising her son from birth to high school graduation, and beyond. Those trials are not insignificant. Unlike me, Joel has an intellectual disability in addition to his autism, and he developed some extra challenging behaviors as he grew up.
I mostly read this book soberly, saddened by the hardships and frayed nerves and miscommunications, but this book is not a sad one. Each chapter is a separate alleluia to God for his guidance, her son, and sometimes other people involved in the story. Many of the stories start out, or at least middle with, a groan, which at the end turns to the alleluia. Perhaps I'm too inclined to depression to pick up the joy and thankfulness.
I did note, with some amusement, however, that Joel and I did have something in common. We both hated sitting through church services. I had it a bit better under control than he did, as the author bemoans and recounts the general pattern of the church services, with Joel eventually losing interest and patience and declaring church to be over midway through the prayer, and that it was time to have doughnuts.
I personally chafed at sitting through the sermons. That dislike lasted clear into my sophomore year of college, and while I resumed going to church, I continued to tune out the sermon. I've come to understand that's partially because of the content of the sermons I was exposed to. Current events were not addressed. Instead, the preachers my father favored liked to elucidate particular passages of the Bible, in great depth and with multiple points to each sermon. That's very well if you know the source material, and have enough patience to sit through 30-45 minutes of fine-toothed combing. If such a child exists, I was not them.
My favorite book of the Bible when I was little was Revelation, full of fantastical (and evil) beasts, fire from the heavens, mythological overtones, angels, and a great and beautiful city. Revelation reads more like a story than a history book or a lecture. I liked the mental pictures, which captured my attention more thoroughly than any lecture could. Besides, I'd read the Bible cover to cover before I turned 9. Some of the books bored me half to death, and wouldn't you know, it was usually those boring books that became sermons.
This is a short book, less than 150 pages, but it's a very emotional one. Some of the chapters are poetry, written by a thoughtful, deeply involved and spiritually alive mother and Christian. Most, however, are short stories with reflections of how her autistic son, Joel, brought her and the people around them closer to God. Each non-poetry chapter comes with a prayer at the end, somewhat reminiscent of those "daily devotions" books my parents read at the dinner table after the dishes have been cleared away.
Each and every one of these stories are written in the perspective of the mother, letting you have a glimpse into the trials she faced and overcame in the course of raising her son from birth to high school graduation, and beyond. Those trials are not insignificant. Unlike me, Joel has an intellectual disability in addition to his autism, and he developed some extra challenging behaviors as he grew up.
I mostly read this book soberly, saddened by the hardships and frayed nerves and miscommunications, but this book is not a sad one. Each chapter is a separate alleluia to God for his guidance, her son, and sometimes other people involved in the story. Many of the stories start out, or at least middle with, a groan, which at the end turns to the alleluia. Perhaps I'm too inclined to depression to pick up the joy and thankfulness.
I did note, with some amusement, however, that Joel and I did have something in common. We both hated sitting through church services. I had it a bit better under control than he did, as the author bemoans and recounts the general pattern of the church services, with Joel eventually losing interest and patience and declaring church to be over midway through the prayer, and that it was time to have doughnuts.
I personally chafed at sitting through the sermons. That dislike lasted clear into my sophomore year of college, and while I resumed going to church, I continued to tune out the sermon. I've come to understand that's partially because of the content of the sermons I was exposed to. Current events were not addressed. Instead, the preachers my father favored liked to elucidate particular passages of the Bible, in great depth and with multiple points to each sermon. That's very well if you know the source material, and have enough patience to sit through 30-45 minutes of fine-toothed combing. If such a child exists, I was not them.
My favorite book of the Bible when I was little was Revelation, full of fantastical (and evil) beasts, fire from the heavens, mythological overtones, angels, and a great and beautiful city. Revelation reads more like a story than a history book or a lecture. I liked the mental pictures, which captured my attention more thoroughly than any lecture could. Besides, I'd read the Bible cover to cover before I turned 9. Some of the books bored me half to death, and wouldn't you know, it was usually those boring books that became sermons.
Read This Book If
You need a renewal of your Christian faith, or want to read one mother's faith experience in raising her son with autism and an intellectual disability. The stories seemed genuine and approachable to me, the poetry interesting and thoughtful. It's a short read, but a powerful one.
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