W hen you receive a diagnosis—your own or your child’s—the instinctive response is to search for a cure. For many years, that was my entire world. I researched therapies, diets, and medical interventions. I tried everything from specialized nutrition plans to experimental treatments, desperately hoping to remove autism from my daughter’s life. I looked everywhere around me, but I did not look above me.
I was constantly reading, networking, and “Googling,” convinced that somewhere out there was the one method that would fix everything. And with every failed attempt, my heart grew heavier. Autism became the lens through which I viewed every moment of my life. I was so focused on curing the diagnosis that I could not fully embrace the child God had entrusted to me.
Back then, I even wondered if God had made a mistake. How wrong I was. But this is what happens when we chase only the cure—we lose sight of the gift right in front of us. I had to walk through that season to arrive where I am now.
Related: Ableism, theology, and me: coming to see my disability in a new light
The turning point: surrender
Everything changed when I finally surrendered—my fears, my striving, my child, and my own heart—to Jesus Christ. Only then did I understand what Scripture promises: “Seek first the kingdom of God… and all these things will be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
So, what is the difference between being “cured” and being “healed”? Curing is the removal of an illness or disability. Healing is something far deeper.
In Everybody Belongs, Serving Together, a comprehensive guide to inclusive church ministry, healing is described as “growth toward inner integration, well-being, and a sense of meaning, purpose, and value.” Healing is not the absence of autism. Healing is the presence of Christ.
Through Jesus, we draw closer to God. And when life is surrendered to Christ, healing begins—not because circumstances change, but because we are changed. Life becomes abundant, purposeful, meaningful, and deeply rooted in God’s love.
How liberating it is to discover that autism does not consume us. “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed… great is Your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23). When Jesus stands at the forefront, the diagnosis no longer defines our lives. Christ does.
Embracing the child God gave me
I learned to embrace the daughter God blessed me with—not the child I imagined, but the child God intentionally created. Grace and I grow together, mother and daughter, walking with Jesus. We trust that God’s plans for us are not to harm us but to prosper us, to give us hope and a future.
What once felt heavy and bleak has become a life filled with joy, purpose, and peace. Autism is still part of our story, but it is no longer the center of our story. Jesus is.
Related: Our life with autism is holy and full of God’s beauty
We walk forward in Christ’s light, clothed in the armor of God, rooted in Scripture, penetrated by the Holy Spirit, and held by a peace that surpasses all understanding.
The gift of Christian community
The transformation in our lives is inseparable from the love of the Christian community that surrounds us. To be part of a church and denomination that sees my daughter through the eyes of Christ is a blessing beyond words. If the people of God can love us this deeply, how much more does our Creator love us.
Everyone deserves this kind of welcome, this kind of peace, this kind of belonging. The Reformed Church in America has been that place for us—a place of healing, acceptance, and Christ-like love.
This is healing. This is Jesus saying, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering” (Mark 5:34).
As for me and my house
As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. We will seek God, know God, love God, and walk with God. Because this—this life with Christ—is the difference between being cured and being healed.
Prayer
Heavenly Creator, our God and Lord, you are holy, merciful, and wonderful. Thank you for saving us and healing us through your Son, Jesus Christ, to whom we surrender our lives each day. Bless all who seek you and call upon your name. May they know your love and your healing presence.
Thank you for the joy and even for the pain, for through our afflictions we have come to know you more deeply. O Holy Trinity, be merciful to your children and to families who are suffering. Grant them peace. Strengthen us to share your Word and your love through our faith and our deeds as we open our hearts and our churches to all of God’s people. Strengthen and bless the body of Christ. Help us to follow you with joyful hearts and to become more like you.
In the mighty and merciful name of Jesus we pray, amen.
Author’s note: When this piece was first written for the Reformed Church in America’s Disability Advocate Conference in 2010, Grace was 12 years old. Now, in 2026, Grace is 28 years of age and thriving in an AHRC Program Without Walls at Wheatley Farms in Brookville, New York. She is an active member of the Colonial Church of Bayside. Grace is happy, healthy, and truly a gift from God. She has been an inspiration to those who are living in the autism world. Grace resides with Janet in Bayside Hills, New York.
Pastor Janet Paduano Cardillo
Pastor Janet Paduano Cardillo is a commissioned pastor at The Colonial Church of Bayside (Reformed Church in America), located in Queens, New York. Janet holds a BA in Psychology. She is also a New York State Certified Teaching Assistant and a Behavior Technician. Janet is currently in the dual Master of Divinity and Theology Program at New Brunswick Theological Seminary in the hope of becoming ordained as an RCA minister of Word and sacrament.
Janet and her daughter, Grace, who presents special needs, live in Mineola, New York, a suburb of New York City. They are sustained by the goodness of the Lord, and Janet faithfully serves God whenever she is called.
