Love these comments.

One of my favorite blogs is Love That Max. I don't think she's a Christian, but Ellen is a momma who loves her son and who writes incisively about parenting a child with special needs.

Two days ago she posted about what moms of kids with special needs want other moms to know. As usual, the post is insightful and the comments are just as meaty. And her post has a sister post over at Scary Mommy in which readers are invited to leave comments with questions they have for parents of kids with special needs. Once again, good post with great comments.

Read 'em. And leave a comment here with your favorite.

Here are a couple that caught my eye and heart:

I'd want them to know that a "typical social invitation" would be the world to my child (with autism). It would be great if a "neurotypical child" invited my child to have lunch with him at school. Or invited her out to a movie. Or just said hello and started a conversation in the hallways. Those little things mean a lot.

And this:

When you see a child melting down in a public place, don't assume it is lack of good parenting that causes this. My son has high functioning autism, and anything can set him into one of these tantrums, lights, noise, not getting his way. When you look at me like I should know how to control my child better than that, it cuts me to the core. Remember, you are seeing this for 10 minutes. It is my life every day, sometimes all day. Smile instead.

And this:

I am not special because I have a "special needs" child. I'm just doing what I have to do - and you would do the same. Don't make me a heroine...or think I have all the answers...because I am not, and I don't.

I WANT you to talk about your problems with your kids. Gavin's medical and development issues don't trump your potty training dilemmas. It actually hurts my feelings when you assume that your problems aren't as important as mine.

And, finally, this:

1. Monkey has a physical disability, but that does not mean he is delayed in all areas. Don't be condescending when talking to him or assume that the fact that he has physical delays means he has delays in other areas as well.
2. Do not ask us within five minutes of meeting us what is "wrong" with him. In fact, refrain from using the W - word altogether. Instead, take the time to get to know Monkey as the whole person he is before inquiring about is disability. You wouldn't want strangers coming up to ask you intrusive questions about your area(s) of weakness or medical history; my son deserves the same respect.
3. It's OK to offer to help. Even if I turn you down, I will appreciate it.
4. You should not feel sorry for my son or for me. In fact, your pity irks me and damages him. All it does is send him the message that there is something "wrong" with him - and there isn't.
5. It's OK to make friends with my son, and encourage your children to do the same. He may have some differences, but he's more or less like every other little boy. At the same time, please do not act as if you're doing a noble deed by befriending the "poor little disabled boy." My son has a lot to offer, and you are just as lucky to have him as a friend as he is to have you.
6. My son is just as perfect as yours, and yours is as imperfect as mine.

 But that's enough from me. Go to Love That Max and Scary Mommy, and read the comments yourself.

wordless wednesday: why my husband is making wood brackets for the curtain rods

Respite events without "religious content?" Not at our church.

Just after he discussed the recent allure for flashy church environments, John Piper wrote this in Counted Right in Christ (2002):

But more and more this doctrinally-diluted view of music, drama, life-tips and marketing seems out of touch with real life in this world – not to mention the next. It tastes like watered-down gruel, not a nourishing meal. It simply isn’t serious enough. It’s too playful and chatty and casual. Its joy just doesn’t feel deep enough or heartbroken or well-rooted. The injustice and persecution and suffering and hellish realities in the world today are so many and so large and so close that I can’t help but think that, deep inside, people are longing for something weighty and massive and rooted and stable and eternal. So it seems to me that the trifling with silly little sketches and breezy welcome-into-the-den styles on Sunday morning are just out of touch with what matters in life.

Of course, it works. Sort of. Because, in the name of felt needs, it resonates with people’s impulse to run from what is most serious and weighty and what makes them most human and what might open the depths of God to their souls. The design is noble. Silliness is a stepping-stone to substance. But it’s an odd path. And evidence is not ample that many are willing to move beyond fun and simplicity. So the price of minimizing truth-based joy and maximizing atmosphere-based comfort is high. More and more, it seems to me, the end might be in view. I doubt that a religious ethos with such feel of entertainment can really survive as Christian for too many more decades. Crises reveal the cracks. (p. 22-23). 

Such can be the temptation in special needs ministry. Many leaders have recommended that respite care evenings – which is a fancy way of saying parents’ night out for families who have a child with special needs, including measures taken to ensure safety and proper care – should be devoid of religious content because, after all, we want to welcome these families. If they see Christ’s love in us, without mention of His name, the presumption is that they may join us for worship the next Sunday and hear about Christ then.

To which I say: right aim, wrong method. Welcoming families is crucial. Providing them with an outlet and time with respite care is great. I do understand that leaving out a religious element allows church respite events to be recommended by city, county, and state social services departments. And it may make such events less threatening to some families.

But if we fail to present the remedy - Christ - to the their most crucial and eternal need then we’re operating a doctrinally-diluted “ministry” in which we esteem the comfort of families more than we esteem the gospel which might make them feel uncomfortable. (It isn’t always comfy to hear that we are sinners in need of a Savior and sheep in need of a Shepherd.) Furthermore, no respite program has 100% of participants show up on Sunday morning. A respite event might be the only time you get to share the good news of Jesus Christ with a family. Is it really wise to take a pass on that?

Yes, we want it to be an enjoyable night. Yes, we want to show that Christ's love for us motivates us to love others. Yes, we will have silly and fun elements, and we'll have music and other entertainment. But it's not mutually exclusive; we don't have to choose between those things and Christ. We can have fun and share the gospel. We won't have a sermon at respite, but stories we share will include Christ, as will songs and coloring pages and other activities. We're not planning to pull out our Jesus stick and smack kids on the head with it. (That's a joke, by the way. We don't have a Jesus stick, and even if we did, we wouldn't get all violent with it.) We will pull out the Bible, though, and share truth.

We will have our first respite care event in September of this year. And we will share the good news of Christ during it.

Access: It's not a fancy or unique name, but it's ours

Yesterday I posted about possible names for our ministry, and we had some good conversation in the comments. I love getting comments because it makes me feel like I'm not just typing at y'all but communicating with you, so please continue to chime in! We all benefit from that.

And the name we decided upon? Access. Read our aims below to understand why that name fits our goals. And remember that while it is important to consider names for churches and ministries, our ultimate desire isn't for Access or Providence or any other name to be made great.

Therefore God has highly exalted him 

and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 

so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, 

in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 

 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, 

to the glory of God the Father. {Philippians 2:9-11}

We're posting our proposed Access aims today on The City, our church's Facebook-esque site. (It's actually something any church can have. Check it out here.) These aims aren't final, and we're soliciting info from our members to refine before it goes on our church website and in other materials. I would love your feedback as well! If you have a moment, please check this out (including our name and its reason!), and let me know what you think.

The aim of Access Ministry is not to create a new or separate place in our church for people with disabilities. Our mission is to ensure that children, students, and adults with special needs have access to the church as a whole. This is accomplished by:

• Esteeming the value of each person, preborn or born, as a vital part of the body, as defined in 1 Corinthians 12. With regard to people with disabilities, this includes welcoming them with respect and love, sharing the good news of Christ with them, serving alongside them as they use their gifts, and otherwise including them as contributors to what God is doing in our body. It also includes supporting their families after prenatal or postnatal diagnosis.
• Identifying barriers to safe involvement and full inclusion in our congregation. Once those have been identified, we seek to creatively remove those barriers and/or provide alternative options. This also involves providing support and training to staff and volunteers so that they may safely include those with disabilities in their respective ministry areas.
• Partnering with parents and other family members, and valuing their contributions, marriages, and families. Mutually, we can equip one another.
• Reaching out to unchurched families, that they may hear the Gospel, know Christ, and be welcome in our ministries.

As such, Access is not a separate ministry at Providence Baptist Church, but rather one that complements existing ministries so that they can intentionally include people with disabilities. Access Ministry is truly about allowing those with special needs to access ministry.

Feel free to comment on anything from the content to wording and grammar. What do you like? What doesn't work for you? If you were leading this ministry, what would you add or change?

Thanks!

'Cause y'all are smart. And 'cause I'm not too proud to beg. (Please comment. Pretty please?)

This is actually a repost from my personal blog, written and posted originally in September before this blog came into being. We have just recently resolved our name dilemma, but I know other churches who are still trying to decide what their ministry name should be, so your thoughts are still helpful!

(And thankfully my thesis is now complete. And those plans for the future that I mentioned in this post? Well, our first respite event will be in the fall, and we have made progress in other areas too. It's encouraging to look back and see how far we've come!)

Okay, now on to that post from September...

'Cause y'all are creative. And 'cause most of you reading this love Jesus. And 'cause y'all aren't trying to juggle a kazillion things. (Oh, wait. You probably are. So scratch that and make it something like "'cause y'all aren't writing a thesis on the relationship between school poverty levels and the test performance of students with learning disabilities." I bet that one's accurate. And if it's not, email me 'cause I'd love to swap research findings.)

(And, yes, my name is Shannon, and I get twitchy if I shorten because without adding an apostrophe. I'm really living on the wild side if I *gasp* use cuz.)

The hubs and I are now coordinating special needs ministry for kids birth through high school at our church. (Which is so very, very exciting in many more ways than I can describe in this post. Praise God!)

And we're thinking about what to call it. We're not tossing around ideas because our church loves to use confusing fresh names for everything, even though they do. (Vacation Bible School? Nah, we have Super Summer Adventure. Chidcare? Not here. It's SonStation. Adult Sunday school? Nope, LIFE class.

I could go on, but I won't.)

We may just stick with "special needs ministry," which is what we're calling it right now. Our church isn't opposed to explanatory names, like calling leadership training "leadership training." Not cutting edge, but descriptive nonetheless. I tend to prefer the bland names over ones that just add more jargon to a place that's already jargon-rich (Christianese, anyone?).

But some families are sensitive about labels. And some kids don't even have labels, if the child hasn't formally been diagnosed with a disability. And certain labels carry a lot of stigma. (See a good post about that here on one of my favorite blogs. I think the comments are as telling as the post.)

Yes, sometimes we need to change the stigma and not the label.

And, yes, sometimes we veer too far in the other direction. I used to be a part of a denomination that scrapped "disabled" and "differently abled" (which, by the way, makes me gag, but not as much as...) to use "definitely abled" at their term of choice in the 90s. Um, no. Try telling someone whose child is in a wheelchair that he's "definitely abled." Or sit across from a parents struggling with a new reality at an IEP meeting and say, "Yes, your child's IQ is significantly below the normal range. She's definitely abled." If you don't get slapped for that, you're lucky.

But, even though I prefer my newspaper to online news and detest text-speak, I'm open to considering a name that's hip and cool and fresh. Or to sticking with a descriptive one. Yep, I'm decisive like that.

One church with a solid model for special needs ministry calls it Green Light Ministry. Their explanation is this: "Children with special needs and their family members face more than their share of red lights as they travel through life. Unfortunately, for many of these families, the church has been just another one of those red lights along the road." They also call their parents' night out respite care Refuel. I like those names. And we might steal borrow them.

Here are some more I've seen around: Access Ministries/Access Ministry, ones that include the word "Inclusive," Special Stars (at a church where children's ministry is called "All Stars"), and Special Connections (which is out because our church already uses "Connections" for middle and high school Sunday school). And there's a church that calls their special needs buddy volunteers "shadows," and I haven't decided whether or not I like that. I know I don't care for calling those volunteers "special friends" like one local church does and like many I've found online do; that just doesn't sound right. (Particularly because "special friend" is the code phrase around here among parents of high school students for "he's not her boyfriend yet, but he's more than a friend, so he's her special friend.")

And then there are some wild and crazy churches that just call it special needs ministry, like this one. Or Disability Ministry, like this one. Or Disabilities Ministry, like this one. (Interestingly enough, that last church changed to their name from "special needs ministry" because parents felt like special needs carried a major stigma. Meanwhile, in my part of the country, it seems that disability has more stigma.)

So now I'm asking you, dear readers, for your thoughts. But first...

To help you out, let me tell you what we're doing now. We have a handful of kids who need a Sunday morning volunteer partnered with them to help them in a regular class. We have other kids who we just make sure have a fully staffed room with at least four teachers. We don't currently have a self-contained special needs class, though we might open one in the future as we evaluate needs. (There is class like that for adults with special needs at our church, and we call it the Joy class. But we haven't liked any variation on that name, because most - "Little Joy Class" - sound like we're reducing the joy. Which is probably a bad thing.) We do have plans for the future, which will all operate in submission to the godly leadership at our church and which may or may not include things like the occasional parents' night out respite care and parent workshops. We're just serving Christ with our gifts and passions and following where He leads.

Whadya think:
Should we leave it "special needs ministry" or change it?
Do you have any hip ideas? 
Or ones that aren't hip?
(Is it even hip to use the word hip, or am I clinging to that like I cling to my newsprint?)
Are there any names I've listed or that you've heard that you hate/dislike/don't prefer?

Please comment. Pretty please. But not with a cherry on top, because I don't like cherries.

But, if you do, I suppose I'll add the cherry back into the equation.

As long as I don't have to eat it.

(And no promises here, folks. We might stick with the name "special needs ministry." Or not. It'll definitely be one or the other, though. I can guarantee that.)