The Comforts and Challenges of My Faith in the Life and Death of My Developmentally Disabled Son I stopped writing 23 years ago. It was Christmastime. We’d been receiving cards from friends with letters and notes about how their families were growing and achieving. And I thought, “How do I write to someone and say, ‘Things are not going well in my family’? How do I admit that my child is not growing and achieving? I don’t know what’s wrong, and I can barely get through the days physically and psychologically.” So I simply stopped writing. Now, fifteen years after my son’s death, perhaps I can start writing again and share some of the powerful effects he had on my life.