Fridays from the Families: Humans are human even at church
/
Donna Ross-Jones is a single mom to a teenage daughter and a younger son with autism, and she is a dynamic writer and advocate for those with special needs. Her post that I'm sharing today first appeared here on July 31, and Donna graciously agreed to let me reprint it.
I expected to feel safe (or at least safe for us) at a church. I expected people to be at their best and I assumed their best would look how I thought it should look. It didn't. At 9 he was too big for little kids church and we were not so welcome anymore. At 11 he started to be too big for kids church. People became less tolerant of his behaviors and they wanted him to move on to tween church, where they thought it would be a better fit. I don’t’ think they were considering what was best for Nick. They complained if he was late, they complained that he didn't seem to be involved in the lesson and enjoying “share” time and he didn't embrace “quite or meditation” time up to their expectation. I was told “Nick just doesn’t seem to fit here.” Gee, really? A kid with ASD isn’t sharing up to par or embracing prayer and meditation and your interpretation is "he doesn't fit." Ouch! I don’t want my kiddo where he is not wanted.
I tried tween church. I’d been introduced to the man who facilitated the program and he has a child with ASD. Maybe it is a better place, maybe the problem is protective mom holding on too long. I put Nicky in. He was quiet, he just sat and observed, he didn’t participate. He didn’t tantrum or disrupt the group with noise or run for the door. He just watched, I thought it was a good day.
As I walked to the car I was stopped by the program leader. He frankly said “I don’t think this is the program for Nicky. I don't think he fits in.” I was blown away. In short I asked why, and how could he say that after just one day? His answers were vague. I’m thinking been there, done that, but why here?
Seems humans are humans even at church, and rejection feels like rejection no matter where it happens.
I expected to feel safe (or at least safe for us) at a church. I expected people to be at their best and I assumed their best would look how I thought it should look. It didn't. At 9 he was too big for little kids church and we were not so welcome anymore. At 11 he started to be too big for kids church. People became less tolerant of his behaviors and they wanted him to move on to tween church, where they thought it would be a better fit. I don’t’ think they were considering what was best for Nick. They complained if he was late, they complained that he didn't seem to be involved in the lesson and enjoying “share” time and he didn't embrace “quite or meditation” time up to their expectation. I was told “Nick just doesn’t seem to fit here.” Gee, really? A kid with ASD isn’t sharing up to par or embracing prayer and meditation and your interpretation is "he doesn't fit." Ouch! I don’t want my kiddo where he is not wanted.
I tried tween church. I’d been introduced to the man who facilitated the program and he has a child with ASD. Maybe it is a better place, maybe the problem is protective mom holding on too long. I put Nicky in. He was quiet, he just sat and observed, he didn’t participate. He didn’t tantrum or disrupt the group with noise or run for the door. He just watched, I thought it was a good day.
As I walked to the car I was stopped by the program leader. He frankly said “I don’t think this is the program for Nicky. I don't think he fits in.” I was blown away. In short I asked why, and how could he say that after just one day? His answers were vague. I’m thinking been there, done that, but why here?
Seems humans are humans even at church, and rejection feels like rejection no matter where it happens.