Fridays from the Families: Invisible
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| title: No66 19 mar 09 Invisible photographer: mcfarlandmo |
It is a rare Sunday that our family worships anywhere other than our home church. We attend a small church, and my husband and I are both heavily involved in lay ministry, so we try hard to be there each Sunday – often planning trips to leave Sunday after church and return Saturday night.
Last weekend we were visiting with some dear friends and didn’t have to be at our church, so we visited their church. It is larger than ours with a well-organized children’s program. I mistakenly thought my oldest daughter would like being in Sunday School class with more kids her age. Maybe I didn’t prepare her enough, or maybe she was too anxious from all of the other changes to routine. For whatever reason, she balked and started saying she wouldn’t go to Sunday School before we even left our friends’ house. Sometimes she does this at home too, so we ignored her protests and calmly drove off to church and dropped her twin siblings at the preschool department. I convinced the child to come see the Sunday School room and meet the teacher before making her final choice. The teacher was doing some warm up activities with early arrivals, so it took some effort to catch her eye. She asked my daughter’s name and grade in school, then assured us we were in the right place…still seeming a little confused as to why there was any hesitation. I asked her to explain what they would be doing in Sunday School hoping that one of the activities would grab my daughter’s attention and entice her into the room. No such luck. We said goodbye to the teacher and went to find our friends in the worship center. She seemed relieved and I decided maybe this was the better choice if she was really that anxious about it. We walk a fine line with the child in church – too bored or too stimulated (by anxiety or excitement) – either way can lead to a meltdown. I knew I could keep her engaged somehow during church; dropping her against her will in a new situation was playing with fire.
As we settled into our seats I noticed with my peripheral vision a young man sitting a few rows behind us. With a brief glance I could see that he had some special needs, too. There was an older woman sitting with him to give him support. I didn’t sit and study him or his caregiver, but it was obvious that they needed understanding and care. It seemed he was perhaps non-verbal as I heard some vocalization later in the service that was indistinct, though probably entirely understood by his companion. Meanwhile, my daughter was doing her best to behave. Sandwiched between mom and dad, she buried her face into Daddy’s backside while we were standing to sing. I decided she needed some sensory input, so I sat next to her and squeezed tightly giving her some pressure on her arms, legs, and even on her head. This seemed to calm her down. She enjoyed the music, though we didn’t know most of the songs. During the sermon I found her some paper and a pen, and she doodled away for the rest of the service. We saw the young man later being pushed in a wheelchair by the same woman. I smiled at them to try to communicate my empathy.
I keep pondering this whole experience – while I could see with a glance that the young man who sat behind us needed special care, our family’s need for the extra measure of support and encouragement went unnoticed. I don’t want to level any sort of complaint at our host church. They had no way of knowing our situation, which is my point. It’s more that I want to draw a lesson for my own ministry and others. We may never know which family needs that extra smile or reassurance. We may not know who needs some encouragement or understanding. I hope I am always open to listen, and more importantly I want my eyes to be sensitive enough even to see the invisible.