My husband and I have a son diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. He was diagnosed at the age of 20 and is now 36. We were in between churches at the beginning of his diagnosis. We had friends who became church for us. They were interested, involved, supportive, and prayed, sometimes on their faces.
We told the pastor of the church we settled into our/his story. We attended this church for 12 years and there was never another mention of our situation from our church leaders. We never received the question "How are things going" or "How are you doing" or even "How is he doing?" The church was not so big that our situation would have been lost.
During that time there were hospitalizations, drug issues, horrible home situations, and then estrangement. In all of that time, nothing from the church as a whole. We belonged to a small group who became our church. They cared for us in so many ways.
Maybe this is the way church is supposed to work, but had the pastor or an elder checked in with us occasionally, it would have felt good. Mental illness is a death: a death of dreams, and it is ongoing. I have a living son who lives a non-life. He does nothing, so there is no reason to mention him in conversation - unless you ask me about him. Every now and then I will cry when I talk about him. I try not to make others feel uncomfortable with my tears, but it is so very nice to be able to say his name. Outloud. To someone.
