The words have come and gone. And come and gone and left again.

And every time I try to share, fear creeps in.

I’m nervous to share this personal news with you but simultaneously, if there is someone else in my shoes, I want to be here for her.

To be completely honest with you, the fear that keeps creeping in the most is if you know my child personally or your child knows my child, that you will ask them to treat him differently. So this is me begging you: please don’t. Please don’t even share this with them because while one day we will tell Cray, that day is not today. He already recognizes that he thinks differently than most children. Having him understand the diagnosis is not something I am ready to share with him at this time.

But in the same breath, I want this to be documented how it felt in the weeks following the diagnosis because I KNOW God will redeem Cray’s story.

I share here so that you can understand him a little bit like we desperately try to every day.

I KNOW that God will use Cray’s passion because since he was born I have begged Him to use his passion for good. One day, he will stand and share his story but today, it’s my turn to share how much we love and adore our unique child gifted with so many special talents and qualities.

So here we go.

Three weeks ago, Cray was diagnosed with autism.

The following day, I wrote him this letter. And as my wheels continue to turn, I will share more of his story as I feel led.

God writes these stories even better than I can imagine.

Dear Cray Bay,

Yesterday, you were given a diagnosis of autism, social anxiety disorder and selective mutism. While this does not in any way shape or form change how we feel about you, it helps us understand how God perfectly knit you together. You process information differently than we do. You think completely differently than what your daddy, brother and sister and I can understand. And for that, it only makes us love you even more, if that’s even possible.

You are so special to us. And before you born, I had this feeling, like I had always knew autism would be a part of our story. I know that sounds strange because I have never admitted that before to anyone, but it’s like I always knew…if I had boys, one would be autistic.

But every night I rocked you or held you, every day I got to be home with you and you refused to nap or something didn’t go your way and you started to have your meltdowns, I prayed right then, God, please use his passion for GOOD.

So there’s no doubt in my mind you will develop this passion for a purpose. A purpose that makes me squirm a lot of days. A passion that shines through as you hold such strong opinions about life and the way things should be. When you were just three you told me, I see the world that nobody else sees. And that is the truth. You recognize things your daddy and I would have missed. The way you allow us to love you and the way you love us…your thoughtfulness, your strong-will…all of these qualities that make you so special to us, makes us love you so hard.

You protect your people. You are thoughtful and you know what everyone likes and dislikes.

You are brilliant.

The way your mind works and solves problems in such a calculated manner leaves me in awe. The countless funny stories we have saved and will continue to add to make us laugh hysterically. Your sense of humor and wit are unmatched. Your deep love for your brother and sister could move heaven and earth.

You will do BIG things, buddy. You will change this world. Because since you were born, I have prayed for this passion inside of you to be used for His glory.

You have a story to tell. And I can’t wait to see the way He writes it for all of us.

I love you,