Autism and God

I have a dear friend that I met in Washington last year who has a child with severe mental and physical disabilities. Her daughter can't sit without support, and the doctors are not even sure if her brain can see what she takes in with her eyes. Still, my friend is extremely close to God, and sees her daughter as God's precious gift to her and his way of humbling her to His greatness. I admire that philosophy, but, not being of the same religious philosophy, feel that I cannot fully comprehend it. So let me tell you about me and God. When I first started to get an inkling that Ben had something wrong with him, I was angry. And bitter. I remember distinctly sitting in the Explorer in the parking lot of Katherine's preschool waiting to take her in when it hit me full force. Here I was, the mother of three kids three and under (Kath was 3, the twins barely 2), and I was having to face the fact that my son wasn't right. I was exhausted from two years of baby care, constant feedings, diaper changes, supervision and the breaks were few and far between. And God had the audacity to make one of my precious children have something wrong with them. How dare he? Hadn't I worked hard enough? Wasn't I punished enough by having twins right on top of my eldest? I remember crying about it for the first time, and certainly not the last. Still, as I became surer of Ben's challanges, I began to "forgive" God, but I was on neutral terms with Him. If we didn't go to church for many months, well, God was the one who saddled us with all these problems, so He of all beings should understand how hard it was.
I've come to realize that in the grand scheme of things, Autism is only a drop in the bucket. Yes, I do go to church regularly with the kids even with Rob gone. Ben's gotten easier to take to church as long as he has his ipod. My attitude towards Ben during church is almost self righteous. I'll do my best to keep him quiet, but if he's not perfect, the people around me can just deal with it. God made him too. And God made him just the way he is. I don't worry about Ben's salvation or his eternal judgement. I think he's already home free. Still, I do often think about whether Ben was made my son so he could teach me to be a better person. But thinking that way starts to bring the bitterness back in me, especially when I see many, many other people around me who have perfectly normal little kids. Why am I so lucky? What did I do to deserve all this "luck"? So I find for me it's better not to involve God in "giving" me a kid with autism. It happened because it did, not because I think there's some grand scheme at work. Tragedies far worse than Ben's happen to people far better than me. So I guess it's best not to analyze it too much.