The gift of Grace

We have a girl named Grace at our church. She’s 10, going on 30.

Grace won’t take no for an answer. Sometimes her ideas clash with adults’ plans.

But Grace has vision. She’s not afraid to ask “Why not?”

She also has a big heart.

This month, Grace has been raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. She’s gathered piles of money by asking everyone she knows to contribute. When I told her I had little cash on me, she was not discouraged.

“Well, where’s your husband?” she asked.

Grace is persistent. She doesn’t give up.

When we let Grace “happen”, it’s an amazing thing. All that passion and energy get channeled into God’s work when Grace finds a mission--and we get out of her way.

Yes, Grace rocks the boat. She challenges us to grow.

And that's why Grace is a gift.

Busting through the wall

In our Midwestern town, we work hard to keep up appearances. Folks are friendly--but not necessarily all that open.

I think some people avoid church because they fear they are too messed up to have any business being there. Those who do come have often buried deep the truth about their struggles.

Now, that’s messed up.

We need God--and fellowship--because we can’t do it alone. There’s no point in having a house cleaner if you have to clean house before you’ll let them in. We need to open the doors of our lives, so we can support and refresh one another.

My church allows questions and encourages diversity. Still, I feel like I’m climbing uphill to get folks to talk about the challenges of parenting. We’re steeped in denial about how close to the edge most of us feel much of the time.

I want to bust through that wall.

But we erect those walls to protect ourselves. Who wants their careful disguise ripped off?

And yet--how do we welcome people from behind a wall? How can we strive for truth if we won’t tell our own? Closeness requires transparency--and honesty. Otherwise, it’s a charade.

So, maybe I’m trying to lay out the welcome mat by inviting folks to take a peek into my own addled brain and heart. Then, perhaps others will feel free to share their truths.

And that will be a good place to start.

What Betty taught me

Caring people are great. But they aren’t enough to make a church welcoming.

Maybe that should have been obvious, but my eyes flew open after talking with Betty Bledsoe--a disabled mother of 17 adults and children with special needs.

Betty guided me through the experience of visiting a new church--or store or restaurant--from the perspective of a person with physical disabilities. The parking lot alone sends a loud message. Let’s assume there’s an available space that’s wide enough. The next question is whether the ramp will be wide and free of ruts. Then, there’s the front door--will it be locked? If it’s open, will it be large enough for someone in a wheelchair or scooter to negotiate?

All these obstacles come before you even enter the building.

Then, there’s the question of seating--is it segregated or available to all? And where’s the bathroom? Too often, only the sanctuary is accessible, so a person who can’t walk may have to slide down stairs on their bottom to reach a restroom.

Many churches skimp on toilet paper, tissue, and antibacterial soap, items upon which someone with medical needs might rely. Plus, these things are often placed out of the reach of someone in a wheelchair or scooter.

Is there a quiet room where a caregiver can take a child who needs a break or a physical hold? Are there supplies such as diapers, pull-ups, and extra clothes available in case someone needs them? Are all activities open to everyone, or are some exclusive?

Betty recommends church leaders wear blindfolds and earplugs and tape the fingers of their dominant hands together—and then try to negotiate a Sunday morning service. Doesn’t sound like much fun, does it? But it’s the best way to begin to understand what life is like for people with physical disabilities.

Many thanks, Betty, for opening my eyes to glaring omissions in the world I negotiate with relative ease--for now.

Welcome to my blog

Hello! I’m Amy Stuart Taylor--a writer, wife, mother of 8-year-old twin boys, and voracious volunteer at Federated Church in West Lafayette, Indiana. I have a background in school psychology and a passion for children and families.

I write a blog called “Widen My Heart” for my local newspaper (http://blogs.jconline.com/ataylor ) and proposed a blog to Kaye Edwards as a way to share my efforts to make the intersection between church and family more meaningful. I hope my meditations will spark conversations on the topics I hold close to my heart.

I’ll write about ARK (Adults Relating to Kids)--the parent support program we’re planning to pilot this spring--as well as my hopes that worship will grow more inclusive of children like my energetic boys. I think the issues which my church and I struggle with are common ones. How can our ministry welcome and support children and families and help them grow closer to God? How can we create a community that nurtures and encourages youth in troubling times?

I don’t have the answers. But I have the desire to learn and grow to a deeper understanding and practice of parenting, discipleship, and faith. I hope you’ll join me on my journey.