Finding a New Church

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Name: Bear Wheelz (K.B. Hetrick)
Email: bearwhlz@netscape.net
Date: 09 Jun 2000
Time: 03:54:32

Story

Accessibility is more than a lift or a ramp, and acceptance is more than mere toleration.

When Michele and I married, our first order was to find a church home we could share. We were counseled and married by the pastor of the church where she was a lay minister, but we knew we could not attend there because the building was inhospitable to wheelchairs, being on several levels, with no lift or elevator.

We began attending another church that seemed to have everything we hoped for: a congregation that was ethnically diverse and deeply committed to serving the community as part of their worship. The pastoral staff was welcoming, and I had hopes of being able to worship, serve, and learn with others, again. The building was marginally navigable, as a tiny lift had been installed and a ramp led up to one door off the parking lot. Unfortunately, I found that, on many Sundays, only one of the double doors at the entrance was unlocked, leaving a space too narrow for my chair. Waiting for the maintenance man with the key kept me sitting in the rain for fifteen minutes. When I tried to attend study groups, I had to find a group that met in a room that could accommodate my wheelchair. I got patted on the head, talked over, ignored, and all the usual indignities.

I signed up for a church workday, hoping to help by washing paneling, waxing pews, etc. When I arrived at the church, I found that the only entrance that was open was at the top of a flight of stone steps. The doorbell at the accessible entrance was six feet off the ground, to discourage child pranksters, and apparently, cripples. I went home. I tried to overlook being overlooked, and ignore being ignored. We can't expect "ABs" to always take our needs into account when they plan activities, can we?

One Sunday, my wife was out of town, and I attended worship by myself. I wheeled myself into my usual niche in the back of the sanctuary. It was a communion Sunday, and when I saw that it was my turn to go up to the altar, I wheeled into the aisle. Flustered ushers blocked my way, refusing to allow me to approach. They forced me to return to my place, telling me that the sacrament would be brought to me. Maybe it was just an unfortunate lapse in judgment?

A month later, I tried to approach the altar on communion Sunday. The same thing happened. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. It was obvious that I was an embarrassment - a cripple that wouldn't stay put and be the recipient of charity, but insisted on being an active participant. Michele and I left, looking for a new church home.

Our current congregation is a whole new ball game! When, on our first Sunday, someone noticed my wide chair couldn't fit easily into the accessible bathrooms, new hinges were ordered, and the doorways widened. Several months later, when the number of wheelchairs and walkers became too large for the roomy, mid- sanctuary spaces made for us, the session moved more pews, so that we could choose seating in the midst of the worshippers. In addition to being diverse, in terms of race, ethnicity, age, and sexual orientation, our congregation incorporates many people with physical and mental disabilities. Since we are among the people doing the planning and decision making, our needs are taken into consideration. Since we are actively involved, our strengths and abilities are available to serve. It's good to be back home.

Finding a New Church

Story

Last changed: October 20, 2003