The Slow Work of Love

What “Watching Sarah Rise” Teaches About Care

Regular readers may have noticed I’ve been writing a lot about autism lately—and about the book Watching Sarah Rise: A Journey of Thriving with Autism. I’ve been captured by the ideas described in it and how they can help us better care for vulnerable people—and the vulnerable parts of ourselves—especially at a time when the world feels maxed out on caregiving.

My latest essay, below, weaves together new reporting, reflection, and a prayer.

Sarah Wellington and Jennifer Celeste Briggs at Idlewild amusement park in August 2025.

Sarah Wellington was one of the first children I ever met who had autism. She was about four when her parents brought her to a party at my home. She walked in circles around the kitchen, touching the stainless steel dishwasher and refrigerator again and again. She didn’t look at me. I didn’t know what to say—or what to ask her parents.
But I knew one thing: this little girl was blessed with two joyful, creative, and passionate parents who always seemed intent on doing the right thing.

What they felt was right for Wellington, though, flew in the face of the prevailing treatment for autism in America: Applied Behavioral Therapy, or ABA. It’s what most public schools and therapists use and what major health organizations recommend. The Cleveland Clinic defines it as a way to “see an increase in positive behaviors and a decrease in negative behaviors,” helping children learn new skills and improve social interactions. 

In practice, that often means reducing behaviors like word repetition, rocking, or hand-flapping—behaviors some in the autism community say deserve acceptance, not correction.

Wellington’s parents found that ABA didn’t help their daughter learn or connect with others. So they went out on a limb and tried a different method of parenting and teaching called Son-Rise. Wellington’s mom, Jennifer Celeste Briggs, tells the story in her new book, Watching Sarah Rise: A Journey of Thriving with Autism. The Pittsburgh author has already won six awards for her writing.

Son-Rise has been criticized for lacking scientific backing. One study cited on the Autism Treatment Center of America website (the central location for Son-Rise information) indicates positive results with Son-Rise, but researchers described their work as a first step. Without the support of public health experts, parents who pursue Son-Rise often spend thousands of dollars on training while ABA treatments are publicly funded. But what strikes me about Son-Rise—and about Briggs’ adaptation of it, which she calls Sarah Rise—is that it embodies the highest virtues of religious and philosophical wisdom: love, listening, and patience. It’s simple, but not easy. 

Briggs writes candidly about the many ways she failed and learned—how she had to let go of expectations for her child, and for herself as a mother. She learned to ask for help, recruiting friends, family, and even volunteers from local theater departments to spend hours playing with Wellington, waiting for her moments of openness and connection. Wellington’s dad, Carl, once said it was as if Briggs was running a nonprofit for a client of one.

It paid off. Wellington eventually attended school and began to thrive. Briggs says her daughter still takes longer than others to answer simple questions like, “What cereal would you like?” But she’s learned to bite her tongue and wait. When it came time for school, Briggs found that a Catholic program—one grounded in teamwork and adaptation—aligned best with their family’s approach. (Check out this other piece I wrote about her education.)

Reading the book, I felt twinges of envy. During my years working for a group home agency supporting adults with intellectual disabilities, I often felt alone. I would have loved to be part of such a strong, loving team. Honestly, I longed for the same kind of patient support Wellington received for myself. Isn’t that what we all need?
Still, I thought about the parents who don’t have that kind of support—the single parent working long hours, the couple juggling multiple children with autism, the family trying to make ends meet. When a friend heard Wellington’s story, she said, “Who else would spend that kind of time with her daughter?”

And that’s the problem. We haven’t built a world designed for this kind of love and attention. Our systems reward speed and independence—who can succeed in school, make the most money, retire the earliest, cruise the farthest. But our lives typically don’t work on deadlines.

It makes me think of a beautiful prayer called “Patient Trust,” attributed to Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. It begins: “Above all, trust in the slow work of God.”
The Briggs-Wellington family’s involvement can seem out of reach. And some research suggests the Son-Rise program’s intensity can take a toll on parents. But even experts who support ABA say that parental involvement is crucial in any child’s progress. Briggs argues that even using some of the Son-Rise principles can make a difference.

“There are no guarantees,” Briggs writes. “But there is an abundance of hope that hard situations can become easier. Maybe our experience will bring hope or help to others.”

And wouldn't it be nice if their experience could also bring further research into Son-Rise, and ABA, and openness to all the options that could help a child. 

Briggs continues to write about parenting and personal development at the Watching Sarah Rise website.

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Patient Trust

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ