Our church had a fun bounce house set up for the kids this past Sunday. Us parents chatted as we watched our kids leap and tumble about. Blue Eyes and I got into a conversation with a man who told us that he had five kids: four girls and one boy.

“What I didn’t know about girls,” he said, “is that they cry so much!” I assured him that it never really stops, and we smiled together. Then he pointed out some of his girls, one of whom was standing at the entrance to the bounce house — sobbing her little eyes out. Blue Eyes patted him on the shoulder and said, “Sainthood is just around the corner for you, mate!”

I loved this man’s response.

He said, “Not me. I’m just broken all the way through.”

I’ve thought about this broken-all-the-way-through concept ever since. I mean, really, what is a saint but someone who is broken all the way through? Saints are known for their humility, for their understanding that they are not the doer. At the same time, this brokenness, this submission, allows the light to shine — bright and unhindered — right through them.

Look at Mother Theresa. As the “saint of the gutter,” she often performed the lowest of tasks. She couldn’t have done that if she wasn’t broken all the way through. Yet she could be fierce when necessary. She was one tough lady on a mission from God.

The way I see it, God breaks us in order to use us more completely. That’s why Mother Theresa, while being completely humble, was a force to be reckoned with.

Here’s one of the great things about having an autistic child: it breaks us. Not just once either, as it would if some horrific event occurred and then was over. It’s a daily, hourly, sometimes moment-by-moment breakage.

Just for a moment, imagine you’re in your soul-body looking at what you’d like to learn in your coming lifetime. Maybe it’s major doses of humility, surrender, and openness. But how to accomplish such amazing gains in one short lifetime?

“I’ve got an idea!” your guide says. “How about you have a child who relentlessly challenges you and requires constant looking after. A child who may always be a child, no matter how old s/he gets. A child who doesn’t understand social norms and so embarrasses you in public many times over. Can you imagine how much that would teach you?”

“Yeah, baby!” your soul-self says. “That’s what I’m talking about! ” And into this life you leap.

As hard as it is having this very different kid, my soul self is content. The desperate clawing — the wishing, hoping and praying that the situation was otherwise — marinates slowly with the balm of acceptance and surrender. Daily I am more broken and, when I am in the God Zone, I feel my heart getting more peaceful because of it.

Hinduism has a trinity God-head: Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Brahma is the creator of all of life. Vishnu preserves it, and Shiva? Well, Shiva is the destroyer.

You may ask, what is a destroyer — a God of death and destruction — doing among the top three Gods? Lord Shiva, you see, destroys all that is false within us. He destroys particularly the ego, which includes delusions, desires and attachments.

The energy of destruction associated with Lord Shiva has great purifying power. Destruction opens the path for a new creation, a new opportunity for beauty and truth.

So hip hip hooray for our autistic children who, by breaking us all the way through, destroy our false desires and illusions.

May we remember, now and then at least, that Lord Shiva’s dance of death and destruction represents the most essential goodness. May we remember, now and then, that powerful things are happening within us because of our journeys.

Lastly, may we open and surrender to that power of good — so that, as saints in the making, it may flow through us ever more freely.

Blessings.

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