My son’s mantra is, “I don’t know what I don’t know.” When he first said it, he was referring to the impossibility of responding to something he had never encountered before. In his neurodivergent mind, the world’s expectations felt overwhelming and, at times, shaming.

A beautiful queen named Esther was used by God to save her nation. She was born orphaned, a woman, and a Jew—three strikes against her. Yet, despite it all, God used her to save her people. It is an inspiring story that moves us to action, and its most famous line, “for such a time as this,” has become synonymous with a call to action for many Christians.

This week, my neurodivergent son wraps up his first semester at university—a milestone for our family. His transition from high school to independence has been a monumental journey for us both. Over the past four years, I navigated Individualized Education Plans (IEPs), therapy, and his triggers, redefining what stability meant. Letting him go was both terrifying and liberating.

That’s how I’ve often felt in my journey. Over the years, I’ve been surprised to discover that when I share my challenges, people often respond with, “Oh, us too.” It’s a bittersweet realization—so many of us experience the ups and downs of life but walk through them alone. We grieve alone, feel overwhelmed alone, and even find resolutions alone.