Hey Friends,
When my daughter was out of school for two full weeks because of snow and ice days, I know what most people probably assumed: That must have been so stressful.
An autistic child.
No routine.
No school structure.
Long winter days stuck at home.
And yes—on paper, it sounds like a lot.
But honestly? It turned out to be quite the opposite.
Over these past two weeks, I feel like I’ve watched Adilynn grow right in front of my eyes.
I’m not saying every minute of every day was perfect. There were still moments of frustration, tiredness, and sensory overload—on both of our parts. But there was also something slower, quieter, and surprisingly beautiful about having her home with me. The pressure to rush out the door was gone. The constant clock-watching disappeared. And in that space, she seemed to settle in a way I didn’t expect.
She loved the snow—loved it. Watching her bundle up and head outside with her dad was one of my favorite parts of these days. They went sledding together, over and over, laughter echoing through the cold air. I did join in once, but let’s be honest… I am not nearly as fun as her dad. I’m more of a “watch from the sidelines with a warm drink” kind of mom when it comes to sledding. Still, seeing her joy was more than enough.
Inside, we leaned into curiosity. We did a few simple “snow experiments,” and she was absolutely fascinated. Her favorite was filling a balloon with water and putting it outside overnight. The next morning, she examined it like a tiny scientist—touching it, turning it, asking questions, and thinking through what happened while we slept. Watching her process every detail, narrate her thoughts, and wonder out loud was quietly entertaining and incredibly sweet. Her mind is always working, always connecting dots in ways that amaze me.
And then there were the dolls.
Oh, the dolls.
She has had her fill of baby doll shows—playing with them, lining them up, taking them sledding, bathing them, feeding them, tucking them in. It goes on and on. Her baby dolls feel like her closest friends right now, and watching her care for them so tenderly made my heart swell. Through her play, I see empathy, imagination, and connection blooming in ways that don’t always get noticed in the rush of everyday life.
When I look back over these two weeks, I feel a deep sense of hope for what the future holds.
As a mom of a neurodivergent child, there are days that feel overwhelming. Days where it’s hard to imagine things getting easier or calmer. Days where you’re just trying to survive the moment in front of you. But then there are weeks like this—unexpected, unplanned, snow-filled weeks—that feel like little reminders from the Lord.
Almost as if He’s gently saying, “See? She will do great things. Just keep loving her. Keep showing up. Embrace the life you are living, and lean on Me.”
And I needed that reminder more than I realized.
So as we wrap up this snowy adventure and prepare to return to routines and schedules, I’m truly thankful we had this time. Thankful for the quiet mornings, the curious questions, the laughter in the snow, and the slow moments that allowed me to see just how much she’s growing.
Sometimes, the interruptions we dread end up being the blessings we didn’t know we needed.
Blessings,
Julie