An Inclusive Church

At the October REACH community meeting, I am the speaker. As with most things I do, I am not really certain how I ended up in the place, likely from a single offhanded comment that I enthusiastically ran with, but I have thrown myself into it with my usual vigor.

The subject is “An Inclusive Church”--making churches safe and welcoming places for individuals with special needs.

I am FAR from an expert on the subject. I have no formal training of any kind on really any matter. That part is kind of making me nervous. Public speaking doesn’t bother me; I get antsy right before, but once it comes down to it the combination of my extensive research and practice combined with my inherent passion and earnestness wins out.

Above all, I want to have something worthwhile to say. This conversation needs to happen. Statistics have shown that 90% of families with a disabled member do not have a church home. When you’re talking about nearly 1 in 5 American families, that is a genuine problem.

What is keeping these families out of the church? What can we do to fix it?

What makes me think that I will have anything worth hearing to say on the subject?

I do have my own experiences--one bad, three good--since Gabriel was diagnosed. My observations. And one sad fact: I do not know a single special family, my own included, that has not been asked to leave a church.

We wanted the kids to grow up going to Sunday school like we had, but we were having trouble finding the right fit for our family. Michael and I were young, 24 and 22 respectively, and our religious beliefs were still solidifying, not yet quite fully realized. Both of us grew up in the Church of Christ, learning roughly the same basic traditions and beliefs and practices; we expanded on our well of knowledge at LCU with more challenging advanced theological study (Michael being a youth and family ministry major for several years, he was exposed to more than I was). We were at the point of sifting through all that we were taught and holding it up to our own interpretations to see if we could figure out exactly our particular brand of Christianity looked like.

In Lubbock, I can remember maybe four or five big Church of Christs. We chose ours based on proximity more than anything else, I would imagine. Being relatively awkward socially, I struggle bonding with new people and I had not made friends; Michael is reclusive by nature and is comfortable being on the outside looking in. So though we had attended off and on for a while, we really hadn’t connected with anyone or found our niche.

It shouldn’t have hurt when they (kindly) suggested we worship elsewhere then. I remember sitting there, confused by the language and not really following what was being said. My ear hurt; was I getting an ear infection? I didn’t want an ear infection. What do they give you for one if you’re allergic to penicillin? That was what I was thinking while Michael held my hand and I nodded when it seemed to be an appropriate time and made vague sounds of consent.

At dinner at Michael’s parents later that night, he was telling them how the kids would not be welcomed back to the church’s parents-day-out program the upcoming semester, how they had suggested we would be more comfortable in a different congregation. I remember being confused, arguing with him. That wasn’t what they said, was it? I thought we were just discussing Gabriel’s problem behaviors again.

We had several meetings like that over the course of the year that he had attended there. They were scarcely productive meetings. I had found out a literal hot minute ago that Gaby was autistic--following their recommendation to pursue testing. They were asking me for tips and strategies on how to deal with it.

Why did they think I had the answers? They had more experience, knew more about it at this point than I did!

We would sit there in another one of those interminable meetings, discussing a plan like I knew what I was doing, wide-eyed and pleading because I didn’t know what to do and this was my life now. I didn’t have any answers, I didn’t know who did. This massive, scary thing was crushing down on me…..

...and they were telling us to get out.

No matter how kindly or well-intentioned that was, it SUCKED. They had told me I needed to get Gaby tested for this, and when I did and it turned out he had it, they didn’t want us anymore.

We were devastated. It is like being broken up with. Doesn’t matter that you knew they weren’t the one for you, that it wasn’t going to last forever. It still hurts when they say it is over.

There was a lot I didn’t like about that church. I remember wandering around that first Sunday looking for a class and no one seemed to notice or care that I was there. More sermons than not we had not necessarily agreed with. It wasn’t a bad church, it just wasn’t the right place for us. And the longer we stayed, the more obvious it was that we didn’t fit in.

It took us awhile to work up the courage to try the place they had suggested. Why bother? So they can kick us out, too? Besides, it is way across town and we have heard that it is fairly -whispers “liberal”-. Yeah, I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like the right place for us.

Emerald kept asking if we were going back to bible class though. That is a hard thing to listen to, but what is even worse is watching her face fall when you say, “Not today, honey” week after week. The death blow is when she just stops asking.

So we swallowed our hurt and pocketed our fear of rejection, and we showed up the next Sunday hoping for the best.

How so delighted they were to see us, like they had been standing there holding those doors open just waiting for us to come in all this time. The church is far from small, boasting hundreds if not thousands of members. But they noticed that we were new, and wanted to make us feel welcomed and wanted.

The special needs minister took the time to talk to us, get to know our family and introduce us to the other families like ours, making sure to invite me to the mom’s support group. No chance at being a shrinking violet here because there were so many people that wanted to talk to you, get to know you.

We went to that church for several years, until we moved from Lubbock to Abilene, and during that time I fell in love with it. The teachers for the adult classes were so intelligent and had such engaging discussions--no fluff-piece, baby food lessons. They wanted you thinking, talking, participating. We were making friends, both through the mom’s special needs support group and also through our bible class, who seemed like a big group of best friends.

They took such amazing care of our babies, too. Gabriel we never worried about, never once heard a negative word about. No more scary sit down meetings about how much trouble he was; they thought he was cute and funny and smart and genuinely seemed to enjoy having him in their class.

After Emerald was diagnosed, I thought it was going to be hard to leave her, but her teachers were caring and informed which gave me such peace of mind. Plus they actually had a doctor on standby during services in case of emergencies; how amazing is that?

That may have been the hardest thing to leave in Lubbock. We didn’t want to leave Michael’s family behind and LCS was a good community, but we were scared we were not going to be able to find another place like that one for Gaby.

On first moving to Abilene, we started going to church where my brother and his family plus my mother went, way out on the far side of town.

This church was culture shock, coming from such a big, well-funded congregation to this tiny little home-style country church. There were maybe 50 people, probably less, a good portion of them Jarrod and his group of friends. They made up for their numbers by having the biggest hearts though. It felt like a tight-knit little family where everyone had to work.

The preacher’s wife, an elementary school teacher, volunteered right away to be Gabriel’s buddy. She stayed with him in class and helped him participate, or took him for walks if he was getting too worked up and agitated. No one seemed bothered that he stole food and made messes, or that he was often quite loud during service.

I had already adopted this attitude that you see in a lot of mothers of special needs kids--an existence of constant apology. We don’t make eye contact and apologize profusely for behaviors we should have no reason to be sorry for, things we cannot help. We hold ourselves with a general air of being a burden, just by our being here because so often people are inconvenienced or annoyed by what our kids do. (Disclaimer: Obviously not true of every special mother.).

There is really two reactions to that: either you can get righteously indignant and fight, or you can bow your head and mumble apologizes. I am the latter.

At the beginning of going to that kind little church, I apologized a lot. For Gaby’s messes, for his noises. For Emerald’s outbursts. Sorry I came. So sorry. Sorry I am here. I’ll go now.

The longer we stayed, I stopped feeling like I had to be sorry because everyone was happy to see us, happy we were there. There was this guy that Gabriel just bonded with--no discernable reason other than he just liked the look of this fella, and every time we walked in the door Gabe would run up and give him a hug. He was content and making friends, and we enjoyed service. The members’ beliefs seemed to run the complete gamut, but they believed in friendly discourse regardless, which made for some thought-provoking discussions I enjoyed a great deal.

It was costing us a fortune in gas to get back and forth that we could not afford; circumstances led us to try another church, one that was just down the street from our house. And I mean that literally--if you stand on our front yard, you can see the church.

I went by myself the first time. My overall impression was positive, from caring, helpful people to a service that comfortably fit within my own ideals of church. I left a card requesting more information, describing our particular situation. That week, I got an email from two elders, the guy that helped me find a class (actually not certain of his official position at the church, but he seems to have a hand in just about everything), the preacher, and the children’s minister. The last one set up a time with me to come out and talk to us about Gaby and to meet him before we brought him in.

That right there, guys. That is what got me.

Everyone was so sweet in sending those messages, making me feel like they noticed and cared that I had attended and actually wanted me to visit again. But that children’s minister made it for me. She came to our house and said they would do anything they needed to do to make sure that Gabriel was taken care of and that we were happy and comfortable bringing him there. She listened, she asked questions. She made us feel confident with taking our special boy to this place, that he was wanted and celebrated and would be loved.

We all went that next Sunday, placed membership a few months later, and have been going ever since.

Another day assured us we made the right choice. I had posted on this blog how hard it was for us to go to small groups because of how difficult it is to feed us. An elder that Sunday came up after service and personally invited us--particularly Gabriel--to small group at his house that night, saying us we would be welcomed. We did go, and that invitation made a big impact on me.

It is hard to think sometimes how limited the choices of special needs families can be. Where our kids go to school or daycare, where we live and work, what restaurants and stores and fun places that we can go are all often decided for us because of how it will positively or negatively impact our child. Wouldn’t it be nice if our choice of church was not limited by who would and would not accept Gaby?

That is why I am speaking at the meeting in October. I want to start the discussion--get the thought into people’s minds. I won’t be telling this rather long story; that is really just for my own personal reflection. And to thank you, whoever is reading this, if you were part of one of those three churches that have been so good to us. It was because I saw how good it could be that made me want to help find that for every special family.

If you are in the area and want to come to this community meeting, you are more than welcome. Please RSVP at the email listed on the flyer; we will be happy to have you.

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