Church, let's NOT imitate this school! {on showing respect to all in special needs ministry through confidentiality}

I remember this time of year well: showing up to school but not paying close attention because the taste of summer was already on my tongue, sneaking yearbooks back and forth to sign during unapproved times, and saying goodbye to many friends for the summer because I lived in a different neighborhood than most classmates.

Once, our yearbooks were replaced because the last set of pages fell out due to a manufacturing defect (and I now have two from that year because friends had signed both). I don't ever remember our yearbooks being recalled, though, especially not for the reasons of this Texas high school (article here):

The district said in a statement Friday that it wanted to honor its Special Education Program by dedicating a section to it inside the yearbook.

But Laura Jobe, a spokeswoman for the district, said a passage in the section came under question, MyFoxDFW.com reports.

It read "Some of the disabilities the students in the Special Education Program have are being blind, deaf or non-verbal … (students' names) are both blind and deaf, as well as mentally retarded."

The district declared that the section must be removed since the school did not obtain parents' permission to run photos of their students inside it -- a requirement by law --MyFoxDFW.com reports.

Exercise extra caution in posting information or image online.
(image source)

Sounds thoughtless, huh? But before you slam the school too badly for the speck in their eye, let's check ourselves for the log in our own. Does your church publish pictures of kids with special needs or share their diagnoses without parental approval?

At our church, we never share details or diagnosis with anyone who isn't directly serving the child, youth, or adult in question. Even then, the information is given on a need-to-know basis. For example, none of us need to know the exact diagnosis of our guests at Joy Prom, so we don't ask for that information at any point. For children and youth on Sunday mornings or at respite, we find that it is helpful to know a diagnosis because (a) if a medical emergency occurred at respite and the parents were unavailable, some diagnostic information could be valuable in treatment and (b) some parents we serve are not able to articulate information about their child's special needs and a diagnosis is helpful in those cases. We have a confidentiality statement that we require all volunteers to sign before they can receive specific information - including disability-specific details - about someone in our ministry. We NEVER disclose a diagnosis in print, with one exception being when our church newsletter shared a family's story - with their involvement and mostly in their own words - about God's work in their lives through their son's challenges.

When it comes to pictures of our friends with special needs, we include a statement at the end of our Access Ministry intake form requesting permission to do so for ministry purposes. Some individual, parents, or caregivers choose not to initial that statement, and we honor that. I personally examine all event pictures - like ones from respite night - to make sure none include those individuals before I pass them along to our church's communications team. And when I posted a picture of Kelsey with a Joy Prom guest whose caretaker had given written permission, I used photo editing software to blur his nametag so I wasn't sharing identifying information.

That school in Texas seemed to have good intentions, wanting to highlight a oft-ignored group of their school's population by including them in the yearbook. I'm sure your church has good intentions too. I hope this post encourages you to use God's wisdom in how you share about what you're doing in special needs ministry, that every person in your church is treated with the dignity bestowed on them by their Creator and that you may not set any stumbling blocks in the way of those who do not yet know Christ.

disability ministry weekly round-up {may 14, 2012}

Hi, friends! I was without internet last week as we moved, but I am thankful to be in our new home and to be back in this bloggy home.

I'm even more grateful, though, for the privilege I have to serve in special needs ministry at my church each week. It's a full week: reaching out to a family who was reported to CPS because someone didn't understand their child's autistic behaviors, connecting another family to community ministries that they might find housing, praying with a family whose sons are ill with test results providing no answers yet, checking in on a family whose son had surgery a couple weeks ago, and preparing for our next respite night (June 16!).

I don't deserve the honor of serving these families, and I am glad God's grace and providence allows me to do so.

A Prayer for Trusting Jesus in Transition and Change This wasn't written for families affected by disability, but it applies in so many ways.

Your Ministry is Not Your Identity "Being a pastor [or, you could add, a minister of any kind, including a parent] was my calling, not my identity. Child of the Most High God was my cross-purchased identity. Member of the body of Christ was my identity. Man in the middle of his own sanctification was my identity. Sinner, and still in need of rescuing, transforming, empowering, and delivering grace was my identity."

Pastor finds his niche with unique ministry, Hidden Blessings Don't you love stories about churches engaging in disability ministry? They never get old for me, though I look forward to the day when they are so common that they are no longer newsworthy.

Going to church with my family This is a basic example of a social story. Social stories are a research-backed way of describing "a situation, skill, or concept in terms of relevant social cues, perspectives, and common responses in a specifically defined style and format." (source) In other words, they help those with social disabilities navigate contexts that they don't innately understand. As another example, I'll be posting our respite night social story later this week.

Churches and the Disabled I haven't been able to watch the video yet, but the transcript includes several leaders in disability ministry with valuable perspectives.

John Knight blogged about this today, and I'm thankful he included the full video, which I had not yet seen. (Tissue warning! Though, to be honest - as the daughter of a Vietnam veteran and the granddaughter of two WWII veterans with many other deep military connections - I need tissues for any service member's homecoming.)


I'm sure I missed some links in the past week while I was without internet. Which ones would you recommend for me and others passionate about special needs ministry?

sweet communion

Jim and Chloe were already seated when Jocelyn and her family arrived, running a little late. Jocelyn immediately ran-walked (fast enough to get there expeditiously but not so fast that she would be chastised for running in church) to their row and sidled up to Jim. During songs they didn't know, Jocelyn - who couldn't read the words yet at age five - danced in her seat, and Jim - who couldn't see the words due to his visual impairment - smiled. Chloe watched with interest and waited impatiently for the smell of communion, hoping for a crumb of Christ's body or a drop of His blood to fall on her tongue.

Jim and his wife are dear friends of ours, though they are closer to my parents' ages than mine.
Jocelyn is my daughter.
Chloe is Jim's guide dog.

When I watch the three of them, I have great hope for the church to embrace all God's people with the gospel.

(Please forgive the fact that I took pictures with my phone during communion!)

disability ministry weekly round-up {5-7-2012}

I love seeing glimmers of God's grace and mercy in the news. One example? Tidbits from secular research that God has allowed to be revealed to serve us well in ministry.

Disabilities in kids increasingly non-physical Initial steps for church accessibility often include ramps and wide hallways. And that's very good, but this article is a reminder not to stop there. Disabilities are often not physical and not even visible.

Sisters are the best therapists "Sadly, it took me a while to let my guard down and fall in love with Polly. Polly’s older sisters led the way."

5 Keys to Building Healthy Volunteer Teams Useful for all ministry areas, including special needs ministry.

Suffering is a gift "Regardless, I see this cancer as a gift. The reason, I believe, that I was able to come around on the news within a day was this: my theology prepared me for it."

Leading an Inclusion Initiative This posts includes one participant's notes from this special needs ministry session at the recent Orange Conference.

This past November, I had the privilege of meeting Meaghan Wall and observing the special needs ministry she leads at Stonebriar Community Church in Frisco, TX. And I remember her sharing these words with me then, as I wished I had a pencil to jot them down. Now I have something even better: a video! In her words, what does it take to serve in special needs ministry?

post-Joy Prom update {guest post from Kelsey}

To finish out my week of Kelsey's guest posts, here's the one she posted on her blog on Saturday, the day after this year's Joy Prom. (If you missed my other posts this week, here's where I introduced Kelsey, and here, here, and here are her other guest posts.)

Humbled.

That’s a good way to summarize it.

Who am I to be able to deserve such a remarkable, fulfilling passion?

I’ve had a very very hard senior year. I’ve seen friendships and relationships dissolve and my self-esteem plummet. I’ve been wallowing in self-pity for a while, but I am renewed. I don’t know why God chose to give me such an evident way to live out Matthew 25:40 (And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’) but he did and I am eternally grateful for his conviction of me to do this.

Don't you love the joy written allover Kelsey's face?

I literally got to live Luke 14:12-14 (Then Jesus said to his host, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.) There is nothing more rewarding. Sure, I feel good about it. But I didn’t surrender my prom in order to feel better about myself. I did it to serve, and serving is loving, and love is the greatest thing that man is capable of, and thus truly satisfying. I am so satisfied.

Kelsey and others waiting in the host/hostess line to be paired with a guest as they entered

Last night at joy prom, I did a lot of different things, but I spent most of my time as a hostess. I did whatever I could to make our guests feel welcome. If that means standing in line for pictures with them for a long time, I did it. If that means slow dancing to a fast song, I did it. I did everything I possibly could to put a smile on every face. This was not to say that I was doing the best job or I was likable or anything like that - think about it. These people spend every other day of the year cast aside and looked down upon. They each deserve one night to have people telling them that they are a prince or a princess, and not just a burden. Every single one of them is unique and made in the image of God and loved just as much as you and I - no matter if they have no social barriers or can’t walk or are missing an arm or leg or what.

Kelsey and another AMAZING young volunteer, waiting to be paired with guests!

The atmosphere was of pure joy. It was a delight to be there. My experience this year was more about my making other people happy than my last experience - of finding my identity. It was amazing. If I had to make the choice again, I would undoubtedly choose joy prom over my senior prom, no hesitation.

why I'm not going to my senior prom {Kelsey's guest post about why she chose Joy Prom instead}

Kelsey posted this on her own blog last week. She has graciously agreed to let me repost it, and I'm thankful that our friend Heather captured some wonderful dance floor pictures that I could include at the end! (If you missed it, here's the post where I introduced Kelsey, and here and here are posts from her earlier this week. And here's Kelsey's follow-up to this post.)

Recently, I’ve heard a lot of reasons why I’m not going to prom.

That’s right, from other people. I just want to clear the air.

It was not an act of defiance. I am not skipping out on prom because I’m too cool or too hipster or because I think anything badly of the whole concept of prom.

It was not because my last boyfriend and I recently broke up and I’m too heartbroken to go outside. How lame is that?

It was not because I couldn’t get a date. It was not based on my own insecurity.

It was not because I am afraid of seeing people who I used to hold close to my heart there. I am not spineless.

It was not because my last prom experience was terrible. It was actually pretty decent.

It was not because my mom said I couldn’t go or because I am too tired or because of any other reason besides this:

I have something else to do. Something I have to do. Not because I am some sort of prom martyr, but because I have a passion. Because I am someone fortunate enough to truly love to do something, and even more blessed to know exactly what that is.

I should give a backstory. (I actually wrote my college essay about this)

When I was in tenth grade, I had my heart set on going to prom with this guy. Things didn’t work out between us, and he decided to take someone else instead, and that crushed me. I searched all over for a different prom to go to, and my mom directed me to one that my church was having for people with special needs.

Now I was scared of people with special needs. I thought they were out of their minds and dangerous. But, for the sake of being able to look pretty for a night, I went.

I loved it. I spent the night with some absolutely amazing people, talking dancing and singing and having a marvelous time. But the thing is, it wasn’t about me anymore. I threw aside my social inhibitions and focused on giving these wonderful, unappreciated people the fabulous time they deserve. Here is my original post from the night.

Person after person I encountered at joy prom confirmed this new passion I had unearthed. I love people with special needs. They are the most joyful and trusting and humble and lovely human beings you will ever meet, and they are so often looked down upon, when in reality they are people just like us who want to be seen as something more than their disorder. I want them to know that the love of Christ envelops them and covers a multitude of sins, and one way to convey that is to love them with a love that transcends all understanding - despite every social barrier. I could go on about this, but I’ll save it for another post. I’ve spent the last two years working with kids with special needs, making sure that they feel valued and loved and important just like everyone else, and it is undoubtedly something I want to pursue for the rest of my life.

I know what you’re thinking. This is just one of those human rights things that teenage girls get into. But this is no kony 2012 deal. This is a present issue that people are facing every single day, and I have a good bit of proof for you if you want it. This is something you can change, and really, something I can change.

So this year, I’m going to joy prom. I’m sure going to miss dressing up and looking nice and riding around town with my date and taking pictures and eating great food and dancing with my friends and staying up all night at a breakfast with my senior class. But I know that in 20 years, this time I had wont matter one bit. But the fulfillment I get from helping someone disgustingly undervalued feel like a prince or a princess for a night will last for far longer.

I am in no way condemning prom - I am merely stating the call on my life. My sacrifice is not for attention, and I do not write this to call attention to myself or to be dramatic - I simply want you all to know the truth. That I am not going to my senior prom because I am going to be partaking of my life’s passion.

Really, it’s no sacrifice at all.

Kelsey's college application essay on special needs ministry {guest post!}

Kelsey rocking the sombrero at our December respite night

My best friend called him “Mr. Happy Sunshine,” and said that he was an idiot. I disagreed. He was my first real boyfriend, and he promised to take me to prom. However, my friend was correct about the latter statement. “Mr. Happy Sunshine” broke up with me on the most beautiful snowy day of the year, draining my life of all happiness and sunshine, and just weeks before the big night. It ruined my prom plans, but not much as the fact that he invited my friend instead. That was harsh.

I just wanted to dress up. I searched for different proms that I could attend, and stumbled upon one at my church for people with special needs. “I could probably wear a pretty dress here,” I thought. I donned my prettiest dress and set out from my tragic breakup that seemingly ended my life, and into the night that began it.

I was a hostess. I escorted guests from their cars into the building where a professional tended to them according to their specific needs. I remember a man with muscular dystrophy hoisting himself carefully out of a van and latching onto my arm and that of his father. He struggled to walk down the red carpet, beaming the whole way, and taking five minutes longer than any other guest to do so. His father said to me, “This is the best he has ever done.” Hobbling slowly for twenty feet was the best that this man had ever done. I spent my whole life in my own world making sure that every tiny detail of my little plans came to fruition, and crumbling if they didn’t, and this man had never gotten out of his chair and walked alone.

That April night I realized how selfish I was. Though I spent my whole life perfecting the person that I am, and I never experienced the fullness of life through another person’s perspective, I am not the only person in the world. I decided that walking beside someone who is struggling is more important than dancing with someone who I think is cute. People with legacies are not people with perfect lives, but people who decide that other people’s lives are more important.

Since then, I helped start a ministry at my church that gives children with disabilities the opportunity to be in a standard classroom environment with the help of a youth volunteer. It is a challenging job that requires a lot of patience. Children often run away or disobey. Junior year, I became an intern that researches other similar ministries, and applies that information to our ministry. In college, I hope to study psychology and disorders so that I can be of more help to those people. Due to that fateful night intended to make myself feel beautiful, I discovered that it is much more rewarding to make others feel that way, even if beauty manifests itself as an unstable walk down a strip of red shag carpet.

Want to hear more from Kelsey? Here's the post where I introduced her and here, here, and here are three other guest posts from her about Joy Prom.

Kelsey's first Joy Prom {guest post}

In Kelsey's own words from 2010 (and, after this, you can read three posts from her from this year here, here, and here)...

I had my heart set on going to prom this year.

I hold it in a high place in my heart. 

Looking my best and being with people I adore, partying like tomorrow will never come.

I guess you could say I had definite motivation to go in the first place.

I figured…yeah sure why not. All the kids at my school are going to be flipping out about their own prom, I need something to do, and community service is great.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to this until the special needs class came parading through my Sunday school classroom.

Laughing and jumping and smiling. This night meant the world to them. They look forward to it all year.

God basically kicked my butt into going. I was worried. I thought I was overdressed and taking this way too seriously.

I wasn’t.

I watched hundreds of adorable people with special needs get out of their cars. My heart broke.

Jesus loves these people so much and no one gives them any credit.

They’re brilliant. They just have problems communicating it.

They are so filled with joy in everything. They don’t feel sorry for themselves. They don’t complain.

And yet I complain so so much about my AP class. I am so privileged to take it.

To be accepted into an excellent school and to be able to apply my knowledge in a classroom setting..

When people like my friend pictured above can’t even speak or walk and are dependent on other people for the rest of their lives.

I loved loved loved being able to dance with these people. For a moment everyone was acting the same and no one was being judgemental. There was so much joy, I couldn’t stand to think of anything sad, or even of myself.

I’m pretty sure that working intensively with people that have special needs, like my friend in the picture, is my calling.

But I’m pretty sure that dedicating one night a year to making him feel incredibly loved is something I can handle.

I live for meeting new people, and people who don’t judge me for my extroversion are the greatest.

I dunno. We’ll see.

I’m so glad Jesus has some big plans for me