There are so many things I can fix for my children. I can make the world a little quieter with a solid pair of noise canceling headphones. I can make it a little safer with a soft place to rock. I can make the world a little sweeter with a yummy treat at the end of the day. I can make it a little more peaceful with their favorite worship song. I can make it better in so many little ways. But I cannot make it fair. I cannot make it make sense and I cannot make it okay. Not a day goes by where that doesn’t break my heart.
My children have autism. The fact is they are living in a world that was not made for them, surrounded by social constructs they don’t understand. Today is just another reminder of why it’s so hard. It is so hard not to be able to control everything. But I digress.
It’s an interesting struggle for us, I think, because even though we have a faith community that is accepting and embracing of the boys’ neurodivergence—and that makes all the difference in the world—it still doesn’t change a thing. Bear with me: while I believe wholeheartedly in special needs ministries and the like, they don’t fix everything. There is a shift that needs to take place in the church culture.
The children at our church are great with our kids. They are patient and kind. They are accepting and open to them. With all my mother’s heart I am thankful, but also, equally deep with in my heart—that is not enough. What I want for my children is so much more than to be accepted or accommodated. I want them to be chosen and cherished. I want them to be included and invited into other kids’ lives. I want them to have authentic, organic friendships with people their own age—that I don’t have to arrange.
I’m sitting here in tears while I type this, and it almost sounds absurd, while in my head realizing how privileged I am to be shedding these tears. This ‘not enough’ for me is the dream for another special needs mama out there who cannot bring her kids to church because that body of believers doesn’t yet know how to support the one who has special needs. I am so unequivocally blessed because my kids have better than most like them in the faith community. At the risk of sounding like a spoiled child—we need more. Not just my family. But the special needs community.
As a fixer, this is incredibly hard for me to admit, but this is not a checklist. We cannot check three boxes and declare this problem solved. This is what I do, and I am still guessing about how to fix this. It’s another one of those things that takes time. Why is it so easy for the neurotypical children in our church to find someone to befriend? Well, because they are neurotypical. They adapt to others’ interests easily. They know how to change themselves enough to fit in without compromising who they are. Children like mine cannot do this. The thing is, even if you’re just looking at people with autism, you’re looking at 1% of the population. That’s a large number.
Photo credit: Emily Wade on Unsplash.com.
So how do we do this? I don’t have a formula, but what I hope to do today is start a conversation. Let’s ask some questions, create a dialogue, and change the face and heart of the church. Will you join me in this?
Question 1: What team building things can we do during church to help neurotypical children feel connected to the neurodivergent, encouraging them to form bonds that become the foundation of friendship?
No matter how we start, we must include neurotypical children in a fun and safe way for both them and our neurodivergent children. These are the people who will become adults with our children; if we teach them how to form these bonds now, they will be even more successful adults when meeting others in that world.
Question 2: How do we help support that bond without devaluing a natural growth curve? In other words, how do we support an organic relationship?
Much like an organic plant, we want friendships to grow without too much interference. We want this for several reasons. First, it’s healthier. It also offers the most learning opportunities. As with all relationships, the child eventually may need trained guidance. How do we offer that without sacrificing the learning opportunity and the organic nature of this relationship?
Question 3: How can we show ‘typical’ kids the value of neurodiverse friendships?
The most obvious response is by modeling, but in reality, most of the people reading this are leading ministries or at least volunteering in them. Even parents—and if you’re a parent reading this, that’s amazing and I LOVE IT—don’t really have control over other parents’ lifestyles, so how do we model the value of having friends who are different than you, especially when it may only happen at church? These skills could grow kids in so many ways. It could teach them no matter what we look like, sound like, or even how we communicate, we all have innate value.
Question 4: How do we achieve balance?
Every movement is on a pendulum swing. It’s a fact. What if we go too far to the other side of the pendulum? I don’t really think we are going to be there for quite a while, but the fact is that we aren’t seeking for the neurodiverse to be considered more important than the neurotypical. We are seeking balance, not superiority.
Typically, I write these articles with a hope to encourage or to teach; today, I welcome your input. How do we take the church to the next step and make it a place where the neurodivergent and the neurotypical person can grow in step with one another?
Let’s fix this for children like mine, and yours. Even if your child is neurotypical, we need to fix this for them. We want our children to be adaptable, able to work with, and even truly embrace people, no matter their neurotype.
Join me in this conversation here: becomingenabled@gmail.com.
Joanna French is the special needs pastor at Flint Hills Church, Junction City, KS. Joanna and her husband Jairmie have two boys with autism. In 2017, Joanna started Flint Hills Embrace with the goal to make Flint Hills Church a place where everyone belongs. Why? Because we all have a place in God's plan.
