Aching Joy (A History and an Invitation)

This summer marks six years since I fired up this little blog. I only did it because I wanted to build a platform for fiction. Yes, fiction. I am a storyteller at heart, and my plan was to start posting short stories, then move toward novels.

But soon, two unexpected things happened. First, I wrote a personal post about Jack, my autistic son, and discovered it felt good to do so. I have a high regard for journaling, and I like to tell other people they should journal, but for some reason, I never really did it. Ever since that first post, though, blogging become like my own public journal—a way for me to process my own thoughts and feelings about my son, and what it meant to be his dad.

The second surprise was this: people actually read those posts. They cared. At first, it was mostly just friends and family who wanted to understand what Sara and I were going through. But over time, more readers came, shared, and commented.

Soon enough, however, I grew tired of the controversies in and around the autism community. I wanted to tell my story, but I didn’t want to take sides in the squabbles over terminology, vaccines theories, or whether or not autism was a blessing in disguise, etc. I already had enough drama in my life, thank you very much, and I didn’t want more.

So I quit.
Then I un-quit.
Then I quit again.
“I don’t want to write about autism anymore,” I’d say.
“Okay, I guess I’ll do one more.”


That went on until 2016, when my wife told me to open up my eyes and acknowledge that there was something valuable in our story. People were drawing strength from these posts. “God is in this,” she insisted.

So I listened to her, and two months later, I released a video called “A Reflection of Aching Joy.” I didn’t write that poem for the masses. It was for my boy. I wanted to express how I felt about him. But the masses saw it anyway. Tens of thousands of shares and three million views later, one sentiment rose above the rest: the video was sad, but it was hopeful, too. It was painful, but it was somehow joyful at the same time. It was raw, but it was also optimistic.

That bitter-sweet seed grew into the backbone of the book I never intended to write but am about to release. It’s called Aching Joy: Following God through the Land of Unanswered Prayer. This is not a book about autism, but about the co-mingling of pain and beauty. Those themes, I’ve found, are universal. We all experience hardship. We all feel the tug of despair now and again. But we also experience grace in the middle of it all.

Thankfully, I’ve learned a few things on my journey. I’ve found some treasures in my darkness, and I want to pass them along to you. Your situation is different than mine. You might be dealing with loss, sickness, or rejection. Wherever you are in that journey, I think this book can speak to you. I really do.

So, with all of this in mind, I’m opening up the Aching Joy Launch Team. I’m looking for people who are excited both about the message of the book, and about getting it into the hands of the public. I’m looking for people who want to read the book before it releases on October 2 (launch team members will get a free digital copy), and share some great online conversation in a closed Facebook group with me, my wife, and with other readers. This group isn’t just for autism parents; it’s for you, whatever you’re going through. We are in this together. We’ll process our thoughts with one another while we are reading. We’ll encourage each other on our own journeys. And then, we’ll spread the word to the rest of the world.

If that’s you, I’d like to invite you to click the link below, get the details, and apply to join this little community of pilgrims. Together, we will find joy in the midst of our aching.

***

UPDATE 10/15/2018: The launch team was a great success. Thank you for those who jumped on board! Of course, since the book has released, the team is closed.