We Prayed for This Season

I’ve found myself pausing more.

Something is happening right in front of our eyes.

The things we have been praying for.

The things we have been crying out to God for.

The things we have been waiting on for so long.

They’re happening.

And I don’t want to rush past this season without acknowledging it.

From the Hard Season to the Harvest

There was a time when everything felt heavy.

When progress felt slow.

When days felt long.

When it felt like we were pouring out everything we had—emotionally, mentally, spiritually—and wondering when we would see breakthrough.

But in that season, something else was happening too.

We were growing closer to God.

In the uncertainty.

In the exhaustion.

In the moments where we didn’t have answers.

We learned how to lean on Him in a way we never had before.

And now?

It feels like we are stepping into a season where we are reaping the harvest of everything we walked through.

A Year of Waiting, and So Much Grace

Recently, August had to undergo a dental procedure at Children’s Hospital.

He was placed under general anesthesia, and if I’m being honest, I had been carrying the weight of that for a long time.

We waited an entire year on a waitlist just to get an OR date.

A whole year of praying.

Preparing.

Wondering how he would handle it.

And when the day finally came…

He did so, so well.

The procedure was completed successfully, and his recovery has been nothing short of amazing.

No meltdowns.

No major dysregulation.

Just peace.

It felt like God met us there in such a tangible way.

Prayers Being Answered in Real Time

We’ve been witnessing something that’s hard to fully explain unless you’ve lived it.

We are seeing prayers answered in real time.

August has started using new phrases like:

“I did it.”

And it’s not just that he’s talking.

It’s that he’s using his words with intention—at the right time, in the right way.

We’ve prayed for this.

We’ve hoped for this.

And now we’re watching it happen.

New Growth We’ve Never Seen Before

Another milestone that has felt incredibly special…

August has started forming attachments to toys—and even more than that, he’s engaging in pretend play.

This is something we had never really seen before.

And now?

We’re watching him imagine, engage, and interact in ways that are completely new.

It’s one of those moments where you just stop and think,

This is what we’ve been praying for.

The Kind of Wins That Change Everything

And then today…

August let us brush his teeth with zero tears.

No meltdown.

No struggle.

No stress.

And even more than that—he transitioned right back to playing afterward like it was nothing.

If you know, you know.

This isn’t small.

This is something that used to feel impossible.

It Was Worth It

And I don’t say that lightly.

The hard days.

The meltdowns.

The waiting.

The prayers that felt unanswered for so long.

All of it.

It was worth it to stand here now and watch this kind of growth unfold.

Not because everything is perfect.

But because we can see God’s hand in it.

So clearly.

God Was Working the Whole Time

This season has reminded me of something I don’t want to forget:

God wasn’t absent in the hard season.

He was preparing us.

Strengthening us.

Growing us.

Drawing us closer to Him.

And now, we’re seeing the fruit of that.

Not all at once.

Not in a flashy way.

But in steady, meaningful, undeniable growth.

Holding Gratitude and Awe

We’re still learning.

Still growing.

Still walking this journey day by day.

But right now, I just feel a deep sense of gratitude.

And honestly… awe.

Because watching your prayers unfold in front of you?

That changes you. That changes everything.

If You’re Still Waiting

If you’re in a season where you’re still praying…m

Still waiting…

Still hoping for breakthrough…

I just want to gently remind you:

God is still working.

Even when you don’t see it yet.

Even when it feels slow.

Even when it feels hard.

Because I was there too.

And now I’m watching things unfold that I once only prayed for.

Room at the Table (even for bears)

I’ve been thinking a lot about inclusion lately.

Not just for children with autism.

Not just for children with visible differences.

But for all children with different needs, abilities, temperaments, and learning styles.

Inclusion isn’t a trend.

It isn’t a “nice add-on.”

And it isn’t something we do out of charity.

It’s something we do because every child belongs.

Today, August was allowed to bring his bears to Sunday school so they could “learn about Jesus” too.

To most people, that might seem small.

To us, it wasn’t.

It meant he felt safe.

It meant he felt understood.

It meant someone saw his need for comfort — and made room for it.

That’s inclusion.

As a mom of a child with autism, I’ve seen both sides of this.

I’ve seen spaces where August is fully welcomed — where accommodations are made quietly and naturally, where headphones don’t draw stares, where patience is extended without making him feel “other.”

And I’ve seen spaces where inclusion feels conditional.

Where a child is welcome — as long as they don’t disrupt.

As long as they don’t need too much.

As long as they fit.

But here’s the truth:

Inclusion isn’t about convenience.

It’s about dignity.

And this doesn’t just apply to autism.

It applies to:

• Kids with anxiety

• Kids with ADHD

• Kids with physical disabilities

• Kids who learn differently

• Kids who are shy

• Kids who are loud

• Kids who struggle socially

• Kids who struggle academically

Every child carries something.

Inclusion means we don’t rank whose needs are “big enough” to matter.

It means we teach our children to notice difference without fearing it.

To make space instead of shrinking it.

To ask questions kindly.

To extend friendship intentionally.

And sometimes inclusion looks simple.

It looks like:

• A teacher adjusting seating.

• A church welcoming comfort items without hesitation.

• A parent explaining differences to their child instead of shushing curiosity.

• A friend inviting the child who struggles socially to sit with them.

Inclusion doesn’t require perfection.

It requires awareness.

It requires adults willing to model empathy.

It requires communities willing to flex.

It requires patience.

As parents, we can’t control every environment our children enter.

But we can raise children who make space for others.

That matters.

Because one day, our kids won’t just be the ones needing inclusion.

They’ll be the ones offering it.

And that’s the kind of world I want August — and Sawyer — to grow up in.

This Is Our Testimony in Motion

I want to share something clearly — and from a place of deep peace.

As a family, we believe that God has already healed August.

Not “maybe someday.”

Not “if everything lines up perfectly.”

Not “if therapy works hard enough.”

We believe it is done.

And right now, we are walking patiently and faithfully as we wait for that healing to manifest physically.

That doesn’t mean the journey isn’t real.

We still sit in evaluations.

We still attend therapy.

We still navigate meltdowns.

We still have hard days.

We feel them.

But we walk through them anchored in something steady.

August’s diagnosis did not surprise God.

Autism is not stronger than the name of Jesus.

And this story is not over.

There are days when our faith feels bold and immovable.

There are days when it feels quiet and whispered.

Both count.

We are not pretending the road is easy.

We are choosing to trust the One who walks it with us.

We believe August will be fully restored to health.

We believe God is going to use him in a mighty, powerful way.

We believe his life will point people to the Lord.

We know not everyone will understand this kind of faith, and that’s okay — this is simply where the Lord has anchored our hearts.

And while we wait, we praise.

We praise God for:

• The progress we’ve already seen

• The growth that is happening

• The strength in our marriage

• The compassion growing in our family

• The faith that has deepened in the waiting

This blog is not just about autism parenting.

It is a record of what God is doing — in August, and in us.

Every therapy session.

Every breakthrough.

Every hard moment.

Every answered prayer.

This is our testimony unfolding in real time.

We don’t know the timeline.

We don’t know the method.

But we know the Healer.

And until the fullness of that healing is visible, we will keep showing up.

We will keep advocating.

We will keep praying.

We will keep praising.

To God be the glory — in the waiting, and in the restoration.

Welcome to August, Always

I’ve thought about starting this blog for a long time and truthfully fear has held me back.

I do not have all the answers.

I definitely do not feel qualified.

But our story matters — and maybe it can help someone else feel less alone.

My name is Julianna. I’m a wife to Dakota and a mama to two beautiful boys — August and Sawyer. Our life is full, loud, silly, stressful, and anchored in faith.

August was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, and while that diagnosis shifted our world, it didn’t define it.

It deepened it.

This space, August, Always, is where I’ll share our journey as a family navigating autism — the therapy wins, the hard days, the impact on marriage and sibling relationships, and the quiet, holy moments in between.

You’ll find honesty here.

You’ll find faith here.

You’ll find celebration of small victories.

I am not an expert.

I am not a therapist.

I’m simply a mother learning to trust God in the unknown and love my children fiercely through it all.

If you’re here because your child was just diagnosed…

If you’re in the middle of questions and uncertainty…

If you’re learning that motherhood looks different than you imagined…

You are not alone.

Thank you for being here.

This is our story.

August, always.

August and Sawyer