If Disability Ministry Feels Too Big and You Feel Too Small

If Disability Ministry Feels Too Big and You Feel Too Small

If Disability Ministry Feels Too Big and You Feel Too Small

A few months ago the Joni & Friends disability ministry announced the launch of their new blog, The Irresistible Church. I was pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to become a guest blogger and quickly said yes. Here’s my first post, which I hope will encourage those involved in disability, special needs, and inclusion ministries to continue the work God has called them to do.

If Disability Ministry Feels Too Big and You Feel Too Small

From the outside looking in, the prospect of beginning a disability ministry feels too big. Disability ministries require big programs, big staffs, big accommodations, and big equipment. All that bigness is daunting. It’s enough to make a person feel too small for the task.

Unless that person grew up looking at disabilities from the inside out. Like my siblings and I did. Our earliest memories revolve around caring for my father, who had multiple sclerosis. Many of those memories revolve include going to church on Sundays during the 1960s and 1970s long before disability ministries came into vogue.

Our church didn’t have the big things. No handicapped parking spots. No curb cutaways. No wheelchair ramp. No elevator to the basement or the second floor. No handicapped accessible bathroom. Come to think of it, our church had so many big obstacles, it’s a wonder we didn’t quit going.

We probably would have stop attending church if it hadn’t been for the people. People who didn’t let the big things make them feel small. Instead, they found small things they could do to include our family in the life of the church.

  • The parking spot closest to the door was left open for our family.
  • Men appeared the minute we arrived to get Dad into the building.
  • Once Dad was inside, people immediately greeted him and visited without condescension or awkwardness.
  • When Dad’s disease progressed and he couldn’t go to church, adult Sunday school classmates took turns visiting him during the service so Mom could attend.
  • The pastor came over often to visit.
  • Other men from the congregation often stopped by on their way home from work in the afternoons to chat with Dad, too.
  • An elderly man took my siblings and I to the community Easter egg hunt every year.

Zechariah 4:10 says “Who has despised the day of small things?” (New American Standard). It’s my favorite Bible verse, perhaps because of the constant flow of small acts of kindness people showed to Dad and our family when I was a kid.

The Holy Spirit brings that verse to mind whenever disability ministry feels too big and I feel too small. His still, small voice prompts me to look for the little things I can do instead of dwelling on the big things I can’t accomplish. If, like me, you have a heart for disability ministry, but go to a church that doesn’t have a formal program, I encourage you to memorize Zechariah 4:10 and begin praying for the Holy Spirit to show you small ways to minister to adults with disabilities and children with special needs in your church.

By taking those two small steps, your perspective about what disability ministry is will begin to change. You will find ways to make your church more inclusive. Those ways may seem small and insignificant, but they are not. They are the life of the church, the hand of Christ, and a light upon the path for future generations who need someone to show them the value of small things.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Jolene Philo is the author of the Different Dream series for parents of kids with special needs. She speaks at parenting and special needs conferences around the country. She’s also the creator and host of the Different Dream website. Sharing Love Abundantly With Special Needs Families: The 5 Love Languages® for Parents Raising Children with Disabilities, which she co-authored with Dr. Gary Chapman, was released in August of 2019 and is available at local bookstores, their bookstore website, and at Amazon.

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The Chaos of Special Needs Parenting

The Chaos of Special Needs Parenting

The Chaos of Special Needs Parenting

Today, I am pleased to introduce you to guest blogger Sharon Cargin. Sharon and I have been acquaintances since high school when she sat in front of me in Senior Comp. But we became forever friends when we became mothers of kids with special needs. In this post she tells how the chaos of special needs parenting drew her to God.

The Chaos of Special Needs Parenting

 

When my oldest son moved out into his own apartment before he got married, he told us it was very strange because he was used to controlled chaos. He grew up with a home schooling, stay-at-home mom and a hard-working carpenter for a dad, and three siblings, one of whom is severely disabled. It took the whole family working together to keep the household going. Tim, our disabled son, required complete care. He was either very sick, a little sick or just plain sick much of his life. We also were super involved at church. We did not have much money. It was often stressful. Life was often chaos.

Busy! Busy! Busy!

That brings me to a teaching I heard at church about Jesus’ birth from the perspective of Joseph. I had never thought about how Mary’s announcement of her pregnancy blew up Joseph’s whole world. All his dreams and plans were no more. In addition he had a whole set of new problems. Talk about chaos. Why did God plan this type of start for his son? What a complete mess! We do not hear much about Joseph after Jesus is born. He was a faithful simple carpenter obeying God.

I see the parallel in my life.

The birth of my handicapped son blew up my world. All my dreams and plans were no more. In addition I had a whole set of new problems. Chaos!

But Joseph’s son saved the world from their sins.

Is there hope when life blows up? Is there hope when your finite mind can see no way this event will ever be good and may never end? What if we look at Joseph’s life as an example when we are in the midst of chaos? He listened, believed God and obeyed.

His chaos changed the world.

When I look at the life of my handicapped son I can either see chaos and hopelessness, or I can see the wonder of his life. Tim’s chaos was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Chaos pushed me to turn to God and throw my arms up in surrender. From there, our whole family came to God.

How like God to show us he understands chaos.

He can take anything, anybody and any chaos and turn it into something beautiful. Our job is to be faithful, listen and obey God…like Joseph.

Chaos is often God’s pathway to himself.

The Chaos of Special Needs Parenting at Your House?

How did the chaos of special needs parenting change you? Share your story in the comment box below.

The chaos of special needs parenting can draw people to Christ or send them into a tailspin. Sharon Cargin describes which direction she chose.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Sharon (wearing white shirt above) is a wife, mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother. She has taught elementary school and homeschooled. Teaching and mentoring children and teens has been a joy in her life. Life was fairly normal for Sharon but pretty much blew up at the birth of her third son who was born 3 ½ months premature with quadriplegic cerebral palsy. Sharon has a passion to encourage others and share some of the lessons she has learned over the years.

Author Jolene Philo

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Treasures Wrapped around Friendship and Grief

Treasures Wrapped around Friendship and Grief

Treasures Wrapped around Friendship and Grief

Guest blogger Scott Newport shares a story of a shoe box of childhood memories that reveal treasures made more precious by friendship and grief. His grief over the loss of his son. His friend’s grief over the loss of a brother.

A Shoe Box of Memories:
Treasures Wrapped around Friendship and Grief

“Hey Dean, is there anything Tim’s family needs?” I asked over the phone. I was driving my white Ford van when I asked Dean that question.

You see, Dean’s younger brother, Tim, had passed away unexpectedly just a few days earlier. We all worked together in the residential remodeling business. Dean and Tim are well known tile and stone setters. I’m just a carpenter. But I have learned that treasures are often wrapped around a friendship. My last memory of Tim was a phone conference that also included Dean. I can’t remember exactly what we talked about but we laughed a lot. The imprint will last forever in my mind.

When I saw Dean the following week at a meeting with a homeowner about a current project,  he immediately came over to me and expressed his deep gratitude for my call. Then he pulled out an incredible small pocket knife with pencil-yellow handles.

Being a novice knife maker, it caught my interest. “Wow, Dean where did you get that?” I asked.

“I found it in a small shoe box stored at my folk’s house and remembered it from when I was a child.”

While the superintendent of the job gathered the tradesmen together around the kitchen island, Dean left the conversation. He started to use the knife to cut open boxes of tile. I cringed when I glanced over, realizing how dull the knife appeared as it stretched the packing tape to its breaking point.

While the workmen navigated past the pantry and into the magnificent laundry area and connecting dog bathing stall, I approached Dean. I guessed he dreaded going into that laundry area because that is where Tim had left his last mark. The intricate Verde green, glass tiles on the walls were exquisite. The laundry floor was ornate, covered with eighteen by eighteen inch tile. It took Tim over a day to lay out the four pattern hatchlike design. Tim and his helper rotated the tile endlessly until they fit perfectly into the designer’s dream.

“Dean,” I said, “why don’t you let me take the knife home and put a razor edge on it.”

“No, no, Scott that won’t be necessary,” Dean politely replied while laying tile on the island counter.

“Dean, that knife’s a treasure you need to protect.”

The next morning before daylight I started to put an edge on the miniature knife and envisioned Dean when he was a young boy. I thought about a small hand-painted box at my folk’s house holding a few old Topps baseball cards and a couple of broken Hot Wheel cars. Turning the knife over, I also thought about Dean’s somber face the day before, when we talked at the job site that obviously held the memory of his brother Tim.

I have also experienced a great loss in my life and know how important it is to keep the memories of loved ones alive. While sitting on my favorite stool, tucked up against the bench in my workshop, I reflected for a while.

Along with knife-making I’ve been experimenting with leather crafting. I’ve made sheaths for the twelve knives I created out of raw steel. In those early hours I decided to make a holder for Dean’s knife. Recently I began doing artistic tooling also and thought I should do the same for Dean’s to say, “I do really care about you.” A gift of kinship.

The next time I see Dean I’ll return his knife in a small case. I’ll explain how important it is to keep the knife protected and sharp. And I hope, as time creeps by, he will embrace the memory of his brother. It’s common to bury those memories at first as they are too painful to handle. Like the knife Dean found buried in that shoe box–it takes a memory to bring it back to life.

Keeping the memories sharp is so important. Reminiscing makes those hard days a bit softer. Dean, like many of you, will encounter the grief demon. When we bear the little treasures in our protective cases, the sharp memories bring out life when death tries to keep us dull.

When I reclaim the memories of my son Evan, it makes me proud. As time goes by folks will see Dean and me as men who hold shoe box treasures like the sheath holds Dean’s tiny sharpened knife with the pencil-yellow handle.

If heaven weren’t so far away, I would make one for Tim, too.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Scott Newport is a carpenter who has a vision for unwanted, damaged wood. His finds are treasures to his soul. Each discovery he makes unfolds into a beautiful piece of furniture for which he finds a home, usually with a child or caregiver of a child with special needs. He writes about the life lessons he learns from his 3 children, especially from Evan who died in November of 2009 after 7 years of joyful life. To access all of Scott’s guest posts, click on the magnifying glass at the top of the page and type “Scott Newport” in the search box.

Author Jolene Philo

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How To Make It Through a Special Needs Storm

How To Make It Through a Special Needs Storm

How To Make It Through a Special Needs Storm

Different Dream welcomes Candice Wilkinson as today’s guest blogger. Lately, she’s been experiencing some special needs storms as she cares for her child with special needs. In the process, she’s discovered some ways to calm the waters of her soul.

One of my favorite worship songs is Oceans by Hillsong United. It seems that every time we go through a rough week, Oceans appears during worship. A worship leader, who is also a friend, puts her personal touch on it that brings me to my knees. This song has a way of comforting and uplifting me. It gives me strength when I need it the most.

There is this one part of the song really stands out to me while I am going through a special needs storm:

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine.

Whether the special needs storm is an illness, a new surgery or a new diagnosis, this verse reminds me that I need to call upon God’s name and keep my eyes on Him. It brings me such hope.

A Psalm for Special Needs Storms

When the water get murky and cloudy Psalm 121:1-3 often comes to mind, too.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip—He who watches over you will not slumber.

It is not a coincidence that Psalm 121:1-3 and Oceans both talk about lifting our eyes up to God for help. Sometimes with all the medical jargon, the day-to day-care of being a caregiver, and just life in general, we need to make time to carve out time with God.

Three Tips for Navigating a Special Needs Storm

Sometimes the water is calm; but when the water gets rocky and choppy, it can be easy to drown. Today I am sharing my three tips that help me carve out time with God during a special needs storm.

Prayer and Bible Time. Talking to God and laying down your worries can ease anxiety. It doesn’t matter if you are a person who goes for a five kilometer prayer walk, or someone who writes love letters to God; as long as you spend that time communicating with Him.

Journaling. Putting your thoughts on paper can help get them out and relieve stress. To help you get into the mood for journaling, try lighting candles and having your favorite drink on hand. Also, adding some colored pens or stickers into the mix to help express your moods.

Worship Music. There is nothing like cranking up the volume of your favorite worship music and singing at top of your lungs when your going through rough waters. When the waves feel like they are crashing in on you, start your days with worship music. Have it on in the car, too. Surround yourself with it.

I’ve found that write these on my daily to do list help me make sure to get that time in with God.

How Do You Make It Through Special Needs Storms?

What are your tips for making it through special needs storms? What songs and verses soothe your soul when the waters get rocky? Share you thoughts in the comment box if you like.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Candice hails from Alberta, Canada where she lives with The Hubby, and their two children. She is the social media manager for Courtland’s Hope Foundation. After the traumatic birth of her oldest child, Candice became passionate about advocating for children with disabilities and their families. When she isn’t busy juggling social media tasks, meetings, and therapies she loves to read and crochet.

Author Jolene Philo

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Finding Joy Without a Lifetime Warranty

Finding Joy Without a Lifetime Warranty

Finding Joy Without a Lifetime Warranty

Guest blogger Scott Newport and his wife Penni lost their son Evan Newport on Thanksgiving in 2009. That was the day they truly understood that kids who are medically fragile don’t come with a lifetime warranty. Six years after saying good-bye to his son, Scott is learning to find joy in the absence of his son. In today’s post he tells how he does it. As so many of Scott’s posts do, this one comes with a tissue warning.

Lifetime Warranty

Last Sunday from the center stage the pastor professed, “You can’t give it away what you don’t have.”

Earlier, I had written a story about losing something I cherished. I never go to church without my notebook and often write outside the parameters of the sermon. This was one of those occasions. After hearing those seemingly profound words from the pulpit I scribbled this down.

You can’t lose something you don’t have either.

During the sermon I finished writing this story:

“Hey Scott, I thought I lost that, you can have it if you like. You could use it in your wood shop.” As I turned toward Dave he kept on by saying, “Maybe it can help with all the handmade gifts you make for families up at the children’s hospital.”

Dave is a large man and works in the automotive industry. I figured it was a real privilege to receive something he thought was lost forever.

As Dave was still trying to peek over the mound of accumulated stuff he repeated, “Scott, as you can see, I have way too much stuff anyway.”

Even though I didn’t think about it at the time I now realize that losing something you cherish to the clutter of life or losing the ability to own it by giving it away can have two totally different outcomes.

But in the end they are both a loss.

After Dave, the homeowner offered me the gift I glowed with excitement. While still on my knees I kept sifting for other possible lost items. The gift was a well worn ratcheting screw driver. The finely crafted black and silver metallic tool was the ultimate treasure because it was a Snap-On brand which was way out of my price range and comes with a lifetime warranty.

I was at Dave’s house that day installing a new overhead garage door. His building was a bit of a mess, so we had to clean it up first. You know, kids bikes, old exercise equipment and a pile of tipping, floppy cardboard box’s like the one that gave up the screwdriver. There were even two lawn mowers in there and I believe they both worked just fine. After I installed the new overhead door I helped Dave jam everything out on the driveway back into the bloated, one car garage.

Every thing that is minus one screwdriver.

Over the next year I was always excited when I used the screwdriver. The tool’s main use was to install fragile brass screws for delicate hinges. The hinges were for the lids of wooden boxes I had made for kids at C. S. Mott Children’s Hospital. Most were constructed of reclaimed walnut or mahogany and all had a small sliding drawer lined with soft silver cloth. A few were quite large and were given to families who had lost a child.

I call them memory chests.

The best part of the screw driver was it had a glossy black removable end cap holding various types of attachments allowing for different size screws. Unfortunately a couple of years back on a snowy winter morning here in Michigan, I went for the screwdriver. The afternoon before I had applied the final urethane finishes on a couple of the boxes and was ready to install the hardware still protected by tiny clear plastic bags. After searching for about a half hour in all the nooks and crannies in my shop, I gave up and anxiously called one of my co-workers and asked if he had used it.

“No, Scott, I am not sure I even know about that,” Stew said.

“Are you sure?” I begged. “I know you cleaned up the shop last time and maybe you just misplaced it.”

Not only had I lost a screwdriver, I almost lost a friendship I cherished that frigid day.

Because of my son’s terminal illness and the lack of income I couldn’t replace the lost tool. I did finally find another one on sale at Home Depot of lesser quality. It did just fine. We lost our son Evan on Thanksgiving Day to the disease monster at the age of seven. Even though our family still endures the grief, we still cherish the seven years we had because of the doctor’s original prognosis for Evan. “Scott and Penni,” the doctors said, “kids like Evan usually don’t make their second birthday.”

I guess that was his way of explaining Evan’s lifetime warranty.

Now the loss of the tool seems like such a nondescript event. I don’t think I will ever replace the one I have now with another Snap-On, and that’s just fine. Six years after the loss of my boy, Evan, I have still not found a “just fine” replacement for him. I have however found a new mission in life. It is to mentor dads who are in the scary position I was in so many years ago with a sick child.

I have found life within loss.

A gift only Evan could have given me. And that, my friend, is just fine. I believe that truth will carry me through the rest of my life.

When the pastor said, “You can’t give it unless you have it,” he was referring to mentoring. When I wrote, “You can’t lose something if you don’t have it either,” I realized you can sometimes give something special away. But you will have to do it by losing something you may really love.

No matter if it is a fine screwdriver or a son, you will never forget the loss.

I know it’s not a fatherly to compare my son to a tool. It took me much longer to be okay with the loss of a family member. But, the mentoring I do now gives me a joy allowing me to help the next dad who may one day lose his child too.

This joy is a lifetime warranty I will never give up.

Where Do You Find Joy?

Have you lost someone dear? Have you been able to find joy since your loss? Leave a comment about the precious person you lost and how you’ve learned to find joy. We’d love to hear about the person you treasure in your heart.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Scott Newport is a carpenter who has a vision for unwanted, damaged wood. His finds are treasures to his soul. Each discovery he makes unfolds into a beautiful piece of furniture for which he finds a home, usually with a child or caregiver of a child with special needs. He writes about the life lessons he learns from his 3 children, especially from Evan who died in November of 2009 after 7 years of joyful life. To access all of Scott’s guest posts, click on the magnifying glass at the top of the page and type “Scott Newport” in the search box.

Author Jolene Philo

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Thankfulness for EA/TEF Awareness Month

Thankfulness for EA/TEF Awareness Month

Thankfulness for EA/TEF Awareness Month

January is Esophageal Atresia/Tracheoesophageal Fistula (EA/TEF) Awareness Month. Because my son was born with this birth anomaly in 1982, Different Dream is raising awareness with Wednesday guest posts written by parents of kids with EA/TEF. Last week, Ursula Herrera shared feeding tips she discovered while raising her son. Today, guest blogger Maggie Gale describes how she reacted when her twelve-year-old daughter recently had an emergency endoscopy and the removal of food lodged in her esophagus.

Thankfulness

So we are back here. I thought we’d moved on. I remember this feeling of hospital corridors, bored children waiting, disillusionment mingled with disinfectant hanging in the air.

Different location.
Same emotions.

Different doctor.
Same questions.

My daughter has grown,
but not grown out of it.

Oh, my problems. You are so familiar. How many years will you hound me?

There’s no answer to this question. Just a still small voice inviting me to change my perspective.

Instead of frustration and questions which have no answer…

Thankfulness.

She can be seen today.
There is a doctor available.

We had three-and-a-half years without surgery up to this point. Thank you, Lord.

Thankfulness.

Often, we can’t choose our circumstances, but we can choose our responses to them.
We can choose to be thankful in all circumstances.

How Have You Learned Thankfulness?

Has your child with special needs experienced a setback or maybe multiple setbacks? Were you able to maintain thankfulness? How did you do it? Leave a comment.

Do you like what you see at DifferentDream.com? You can receive more great content by subscribing to the quarterly Different Dream newsletter and signing up for the daily RSS feed delivered to your email inbox. You can sign up for the first in the pop up box and the second at the bottom of this page.

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Maggi is a wife and mother of two daughters. She is a primary school teacher, having worked in Africa for 14 years before moving to the Middle East. Her passions are her animals and art. Her youngest daughter was born with tracheoesophageal fistula (TEF). This birth condition was to be the start of an arduous journey, impacting the whole family for several years. Through writing, she hopes to turn her experiences into encouragement for others on similar paths.

Author Jolene Philo

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