Dear youth ministry friends,

Eight years ago, my family moved from our home in Massachusetts to begin a new chapter here in Connecticut. At the time of that move, we experienced all of the joy, excitement, upheaval and chaos that one might expect for a couple preparing to begin new careers, while also uprooting and replanting their two young children. Chief among our concerns was how our older child, then aged four, would experience the transition. He has autism, and at the time he struggled with things like new foods, or taking different roads on our afternoon strolls. A move would be an Olympic-level transition for him.

Now, one might think that a new house would have been the most jarring piece of the story for him. Or perhaps adapting to a new town with new friends. Maybe attending a new school would have been the biggest struggle. But no. His greatest mental hurdle was related to Dr. S, his new pediatrician.

“Is she nice?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a he, buddy. Dr. S is a man. And I haven’t met him yet, but I hear that he’s very, very nice.”

“But Mommy,” my son said. “Dr. S can’t be a man. Men can’t be doctors!”

Of all of the things to which my child could have reacted regarding the move, this was one I admittedly had not expected. But as my brain cycled back through the years, my son had reason to assert this claim. Amazingly, all of the doctors, dentists, PAs, nurses, and therapists that he had had up to that point in his life—at least, the ones he could have remembered— had been women. It took a couple of conversations for my son to come to terms with the idea that yes, his new pediatrician was in fact a man.

When we speak of ministry with those who are neurodivergent, or who have other disabilities (or differing abilities), thoughtfulness is key. Often due to various responses to stimuli, there are a number of “translations” that these individuals have to engage with on a daily basis, of which those of us who are neurotypical often remain blissfully unaware. If something is overly stressful to their minds or bodies (i.e., the room is too noisy, or an activity too messy), different measures can be taken to mitigate that stress. In the Church, paying attention to these potential stimuli, and to what is most needful for those in our midst, is an act of hospitality and holy care.

And. There are also times when we can learn from these young people. My son, now aged twelve, is a very black-and-white thinker. He is dogged in his understanding that men and women should be treated with equity. He sees other things clearly too. Racism is wrong. Love is love. Sometimes, where I see complexity and nuance, and when I am tempted to work through all of my mental gymnastics when approaching these thorny topics, my son reminds me to cut through the static and listen for what is really important. (He has come around on men being doctors, too.)

We are in a difficult time of transition in this country, where we are called again to ask ourselves: What really matters here? In this time, ministry to those who have been “othered” by society becomes all the more important. And, allowing ourselves to be ministered to by those communities also matters. We would do well to listen to and learn from those whose paths differ from ours. May it be so for all of us; both our youth and our very selves will be the better for it.

With you on the journey,

Rev. Jill