Amazon Kathleen Deyer Bolduc - Parenting a Special Child Kathleen Bolduc Category:  Inspirational Publisher: Judson Press ISBN-10:  2009045624 Type: Non-Fiction Pages: 140 Copyright: March, 2010 ISBN-13: 9780817015688 A national report released in October 2009 in the Journal of Pediatrics reveals that one in every 91 children has an autism spectrum disorder. Most everyone knows a family that has been affected. What is the role that faith plays in helping families cope? In this series of slice-of-life vignettes, God's grace glimmers through as Joel, an intellectually challenged young adult with autism, teaches those who love him that life requires: * childlike faith * humility * trust * compassion * forgiveness * openness to all of God's gifts   Autism and Alleluias "While Kathy acknowledges 'slogging through the wet cement' of her days, her extraordinary book is about valuling, honoring, and enjoying the unexpected gifts of her son." --Ginny Thornburgh, program director, Interfaith Initiative, American  Association of People with Disabilities "Kathy is a guiding light to us in how to walk through this world with faith that God's peace and blessings do endure despite life's struggles and challenges. Parents and caregivers will find a spiritual connection and divine treasures in reading Autism and Alleluias." --Jackie Marquette, educator, author, and parent of adult son with autism "Kathy Deyer Bolduc offers a moving and inspiring account of life with Joel. She is courageous and honest in sharing the love and anger provoked by life with a severely autistic son. Kathy shares with us the reality of Joel's surprising giftedness and her reliance upon the love of Jesus for her and for Joel." --Jean Vanier, founder, L'Arche Communities Excerpt The Band-Aid Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27 I sit in the wing back chair beside the front window, tensing and relaxing each major muscle group, willing my body to let go of tension that has been steadily building like steam in a pressure cooker. Once a teacher of meditation and relaxation techniques, I’ve come to a place where relaxation is a forgotten art. I close my eyes and attempt to center myself in prayer. Instead, a petulant five-year-old surfaces, shaking her fist at God. “Lord, I can’t face another school year like the last one. I can’t! I won’t!” Deep into the dog days of August, school looms just ahead for my youngest son, Joel, who is challenged by autism, mental retardation and an anxiety disorder. Like the thunderheads that have been gathering outside the window all afternoon, the coming year threatens heavy weather. Visions of last year’s monthly behavior meetings float before my mind’s eye. Six, seven, eight people crowded around a table in the school’s conference room. Sheets of behavior data passed from hand to hand. Joel’s days charted and graphed and printed out in full color for all to see, analyze and discuss. Some months’ data showed up to 50 aggressive incidents per day. Hair-pulling, kicking, hitting, cussing, yanking glasses off of people’s faces. The graphs showed a definite cycle. Four fairly calm weeks, followed by two weeks of intense agitation and aggression. Month after month it remained the same, regardless of positive interventions, consequences, staff changes, medication adjustments. It is the same at home; four good weeks followed by two intense weeks of disrupted sleep, constant motion, tantrums, and aggression. Hyper-vigilant, I keep constant watch over my son, anticipating every move, reading his moods like an investor watches the stock market. Support staff come and go, only the hardiest few—those with a true sense of commitment—hanging on for the rough ride. Exhaustion has become my constant companion. The querulous five-year-old quits shaking her fist and crumples in a dejected heap. “I can’t do it anymore, Lord. You take him. He’s all yours.” No sooner does the thought cross my mind than a golden light, pulsing and alive, fills the darkness behind my closed eyes. It floods my entire frame—my exhausted, depleted frame—warming, renewing, recreating. As quickly as it appears the light is gone, followed by an intense silence; a silence louder than any human word or sound. The parched ground of my being opens to the Spirit’s life-giving waters. The thud of the mailbox outside the window brings me back to the world in which I’m planted. I reluctantly stand and stretch my hands to heaven before opening the front door to scoop up the mail. I linger on the porch in the storm-charged air and absent-mindedly flip through the envelopes. A hand-written address among the junk mail catches my attention. Sister Mary Grace! A long-distance friendship with this talented artist, a cloistered Dominican, one of the blessings I’ve received since the publication of my book, His Name is Joel: Searching for God in a Son’s Disability. Sister Mary Grace had written to me months earlier after reading about my faith journey with Joel. After thanking me for sharing my story, she said that she’d been especially moved by a chapter detailing a vision I’d had of Jesus in the midst of Joel’s multi-handicapped classroom, where I saw Joel lovingly place a Band-Aid on the wound on Jesus’ hand. She said she hoped to create a painting of my vision. With that letter our friendship began. Thunder mutters overhead as I open the envelope, and a gust of wind catches the tri-folded letter, sweeping a photograph to the ground. Hurriedly, I run into the yard to retrieve it. She’s finished the painting! In the center is Jesus, his head encircled by a glow of golden light, surrounded by a group of children with multiple disabilities—autism, cerebral palsy, seizure disorder. One child wears a helmet, while others wring their hands or flap them in the air. The boy to Jesus’ right sits in a wheelchair, while a boy off to the side stares into space. Kneeling next to Jesus, placing a Band-Aid onto His wounded hand, is Joel. It is just as I saw it in prayer several years ago. I hold in my hand an artist’s rendition of my vision— Jesus in the middle of Joel’s classroom. Jesus, who has been present with Joel all along. Jesus, who promises to walk with Joel into this year’s classroom. Jesus, who will be present with Joel. Always. No matter the outer circumstances of Joel’s life. I hold in my hands the visual promise that Jesus will be there. As I look at Joel placing that Band-Aid with such care and concentration onto Jesus’ wounded and resurrected body, I know there is no pain, no humiliation, no anxiety or fear that He has not faced in His time on earth. I lift my eyes to the sky. Roiling, black clouds have rendered mid-afternoon into near night. I stand for several moments, watching the trees dance and bow in the gusting wind. A bolt of lightening sizzles in the woods behind the house, answered by a ear-splitting crash of thunder. I turn and open the door, my spirit singing a song of peace.

Bill Gaventa, MDiv, Editor, Journal of Religion, Disability and Health
"Kathy Bolduc invites us into the concrete, messy, detailed, and often colorful experiences of life with Joel, her son with autism. She shares her stories, and then lets us see the ways her questions, faith, hopes, and, finally, love, left her open to finding and seeing God in the places, events, and relationships where she, and we the readers, might least expect." --


Diana Garland, Ph.D., Dean, Baylor School of Social Work
"Story by story, Kathy Bolduc leads us through the plunging despair and soaring joy that will resonate with others who have the awesome responsibility of raising a child with significant developmental challenges. Her stories, interspersed with prayers and poems, are instructive at a deep level. She does not presume to provide recipes for conquering the constant challenges of daily life. Instead, she provides us with her deeply personal journal as a mother of a son with autism. We learn, with her, that by drawing on the deep wellsprings of faith, laments transform to alleluias." --


Milton Tyree, Consultant, Presbyterians for Disability Concerns
"Kathy Bolduc masterfully weaves together her stories of living life with her son Joel while holding the hand of her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The challenges, joys, and learning that have filled her life because of Joel's presence are artfully presented in a way that will inform and encourage the reader. I see this book not only as a valuable resource for family members living with autism, but a necessary part of our church libraries as we all learn to better understand and include our brothers and sisters in Christ." --Barbara J. Newman, CLC Network church consultant, and author of Autism and Your Church
"Grounded by her faith, Kathy Bolduc engages important matters all too often avoided -- from accepting Joel's distinctly un-Presbyterian worship style to appreciating his sexual identity as a young man. It's a candid book about a Christian response to those devalued by the larger world. Belonging is rooted in listening and understanding; it's not about "fixing," or finding a missing piece of the puzzle." --