Blog Posts
The misfortune (good fortune?) of a stress fracture
So, from the vantage point of the wheelchair, I learned a few lessons that I hope will be helpful to others. The lessons start with a full assessment of a church campus, and an open invitation to the congregation and persons who visit the campus regularly to offer ideas about how the campus can truly serve all of God’s people.
Photo by Daniel Ali on Unsplash
Monday, October 31, 2022 started out as a glorious clergy Sabbath, as I headed out for my usual 4-mile walk with our younger dog, Maggie. Before we made it back home, I realized that my ankle was bothering me. I did a few flexing exercises after I came in, and shrugged off my concerns.
But by the time I had run to the grocery store and the pet food store, I was in pain.
Within a week, what started as minor pain had intensified to the point that I was unable to bear weight on the ankle, and I found myself in a wheelchair, for the first time in my life.
The first trip to the orthopedist yielded no answers: No fracture appeared on the X-ray. An ultrasound showed no blood clot or other concern. I was given a steroid pack, and told to give the ankle a rest for a few days.
That day was the beginning of a two-month (and counting) journey.
It took a few weeks (and more than one X-ray, an MRI and a CT scan…) for the orthopedist to diagnose the “problem” as a stress fracture. In the meantime, I’d been navigating around our church in a wheelchair, and eventually, on a knee scooter, with an orthopedic boot.
And I learned a few things: Our campus is very accessible – minimal steps, ramps at all of our entrances, and designated parking for persons with hangtags. But seeing our campus from the vantage point of a wheelchair was eye-opening. Restrooms posed a particular problem: Although I was able to hobble out of the wheelchair at the restroom door, I learned quickly that my attempts to navigate entry in the wheelchair were nearly futile. There were no automatic doors, and the entry doors were heavy enough to be very tough to manage from the seat of the wheelchair.
That one issue made me wonder about a few other things, as well – like whether we actually had sufficient accessible parking, and whether our ushers and greeters would always be on the ready to assist persons arriving on Sunday mornings who couldn’t open the heavy entry doors. A member of our parish family who uses a motorized scooter asked me about serving as a lector – and while we easily arranged for her to do so, I realized we’d not made a point of letting our parish family know that everyone was welcome in all of our ministries, all of the time.
So, from the vantage point of the wheelchair, I learned a few lessons that I hope will be helpful to others. The lessons start with a full assessment of a church campus, and an open invitation to the congregation and persons who visit the campus regularly to offer ideas about how the campus can truly serve all of God’s people.
Where to begin?
Be intentional.
Let everyone in your church family know that the review of the campus is taking place, and invite feedback. Reach out intentionally to persons who rely on wheelchairs, scooters, walkers, canes and other mobility assistance devices (or whose family members rely on such devices) to invite them to be part of the conversation.
Start with a parking-lot view.
Do you have adequate designated parking for persons with hangtags? (Ask someone to walk through the parking lot on a Sunday morning to see if anyone who has a hangtag has had to park in a space not designated for hangtag parking.)
Should thought be given to even more designated parking for persons who may not have hangtags but rely on mobility assistance devices, temporarily or permanently?
Should thought be given to designated parking for expectant mothers or families with newborn infants?
From the parking lot, head to the doors.
Is there signage to identify the best accessible entrance? Is designated accessible parking closest to the best accessible entrance? Are there any automatic entry doors? Before worship, ushers and greeters can help tremendously by watching for persons who need help with heavy doors and opening those doors to assist with entry.
Stepping inside: How accessible are your interior spaces?
How accessible are your spaces? Is there a place for wheelchairs in your worship space? [If not, might a pew or some chairs be removed to allow space?]
Are spaces for learning and fellowship easily accessible? Is there signage to point to alternative accessible paths/elevators?
Don’t forget conveniences.
Keep an extra wheelchair, walker or steady cane on-hand and readily accessible to ushers or greeters should an unexpected need arise (Someone might realize, upon arrival, that a walker or cane was left at home accidentally, or experience some uncertainty in navigating the space.).
How accessible are your restrooms – really?
Try entering your restrooms in a wheelchair, and invite others who don’t rely on a wheelchair to try. Would someone who is unable to stand and climb out of the wheelchair to enter the restroom be able to enter easily? Are there any furniture items that need to be removed in order for a person in a wheelchair or with a walker to enter and navigate easily?
If one restroom is better suited for a person in a wheelchair, might there be a sign to help persons locate that restroom?
Is there a space for changing infant diapers that is accessible to a parent in a wheelchair?
Think outside the box.
We may perceive that older spaces which truly weren’t designed with accessibility in mind would require costly renovations that aren’t in our budgets. Instead, we’re called to think about how ministry can happen differently in areas that are accessible.
Is the choir situated in a space that requires the use of stairs? Perhaps a ramp could be constructed – but if a ramp really isn’t in your immediate plans, invite musicians to prayerfully consider other spaces from which the choir could offer its musical gifts – and communicate well so that church family members who might have felt excluded know that they are welcome.
Can differently-abled readers access spaces where scripture lessons are normally read? If not, consider having a hand-held microphone in an accessible location. Again, communicate well so that church family members who might have an interest and have felt excluded know that they are welcome.
Reassuring church family members that serving as an usher/greeter, lector, or assisting with Communion is very much possible for someone who relies on a mobility assistance device can open worlds of possibility – and help all of God’s people feel welcome to serve.
Renovations may not be beyond the realm of possibility.
Many churches that have some challenges to accessibility know that they don’t have the funds to embark upon thoughtful renovations to accomplish accessibility needs. But don’t rule out the possibility before doing a bit of exploration. Are grants or other funding available from your denomination, city, county or state? Invite a team to investigate funding possibilities. If funds may be available, invite proposals from build-design firms specializing in accessibility projects to help with some thoughtful planning, tackling the areas of greatest need first.
Think beyond mobility assistance.
Assistive listening systems (ALSs) can provide support for those who are experiencing hearing loss. Electronic magnifiers can provide support for those who are experiencing visual loss for reading Bibles, hymnals, or orders of service during worship. [Another idea: Have orders of service accessible online, and have links to hymnals or Bible browsers available so that persons experiencing visual losses can use their own devices (with which they are familiar and comfortable) to access and magnify those worship tools.]
Our houses of worship should be the places where all of God’s people feel welcome – and there’s no substitute for giving focused time and attention to considering just how welcoming our spaces are for all worshipers and guests. It’s a great way to start a new year!
Rev. Dr. Dorothy Sanders Wells
The Rev. Dr. Dorothy Sanders Wells is an Episcopal priest who often writes about justice and equity issues for God's people.
Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.
The Balancing Act of a Wider Welcome
My daughter attends gymnastics class every Tuesday afternoon. She’s eight years old and it’s a beginner class – nothing too serious, designed entirely for fun.
She loves the bar the best, hoisting herself up, tipping forward and back, bending at the hips to find different ways to balance her body.
I suppose, then, that I should’ve anticipated her using the back of the church pew as a gymnastics bar during worship on Sunday mornings, but I did not.
And now she does this every—single—week.
Not the whole time, mind you. Sometimes she sits in the chapel at the back and makes sculptures out of foam blocks or pipe cleaners, but that space is designed mostly for younger kids. Eight is a funny in-between age at church. So she’ll sit on the kneeler in the pew and writes letters in her journal instead, or choose a coloring sheet, or make shapes with kinetic sand on the hymnal in her lap.
But every so often, all throughout the service, she balances on the back of the pew in front of her like it’s a gymnastics bar.
And every time she does, I have to catch myself, because my instinct is to ask her to stop.
“When I was raising my kids in the church, they sat quietly and followed along with the liturgy!” Honestly, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve heard some version of this statement over the many years I’ve been a religious professional. A good deal of my vocational time and energy has been spent speaking and writing and preaching and teaching in response to it, to demonstrate that kids are present, are participating in worship, are following the liturgy, even when they’re not sitting still, or standing at the appointed times, or reading or singing along with the rest of the congregation.
I know this because I watch what happens when kids are given the space and understanding to act their age and be themselves in the worship space. I hear my own kids singing the kyrie from the bathtub. Other parents tell me about playtime tea parties where their child consecrates the meal, reciting the Words of Institution from memory to their dolls and stuffed animals. The liturgy gets in their bones, even when they appear to be paying it little to no attention.
More importantly, when these kids understand their worshipping communities to be places and spaces where they can show up with their whole selves, they really want to do just that – to show up with their whole selves, and to be a part of things. They want to light the candles, and pass out bulletins, and collect the offering. They want to help in the sacristy after worship.
My daughter has recently begun to help serve communion, and it’s her new favorite thing. In between all the pipe cleaners and kinetic sand and sitting on the kneeler and using the pew as a gymnastics bar, she asks me, over and over, “Is it time yet?” She wants more than anything to go put on the robe that’s two sizes too big, to stand with the other worship leaders in the chancel, to declare to the people of God, “the blood of Christ, shed for you.”
And when it’s time, she is all-in. She pays attention up in that chancel space in a different kind of way. She steps into that responsibility with the knowledge that she is a full participant in this community – a leader, even! – and she brings her whole self to that role.
My own daughter is one example, but I watch this same dynamic play out week after week in my congregation with kids as young as four and five. When we understand kids as people who are only learning to be full participants in worship – as in, they will only be full participants when they follow along the entire time, speaking and singing and sitting and standing and listening attentively at all the appointed times – we communicate to them that they don’t fully belong. (This understanding is also wildly ableist, for worshippers of any age.)
But when we meet kids in worship with the invitation and affirmation to just be themselves, and we welcome them as full participants just as they are, it changes their self-understanding in that space, and it changes their engagement.
I will admit that this can be easier said than done. It’s not always our first instinct. I still catch myself wanting to ask my own children to sit up or sit still or quiet down. I grew up in a congregation where we were absolutely expected to sit still and follow along with the liturgy, and those expectations are hard to shake. It’s nothing against my parents or the congregation where I was raised; that was simply the norm when I was a kid.
But it’s still the norm and expectation in a lot of worshipping communities today, even though we know so much more about kids and their social and emotional development.
There’s a loss of control when any community chooses to make space for kids to be themselves, and to bring their whole selves to the table with the understanding that they really belong. It’s never smooth sailing. It’s a balancing act, like my daughter on that gymnastics bar.
But it’s always worth the effort. So the next time you see a kid acting their age in worship, check your first instinct, like I still have to. Then delight in the fact that they feel comfortable enough in your community to be themselves. What a gift, if only we make the space.
Andrea Roske-Metcalfe
Andrea Roske-Metcalfe is a Minister of Word & Sacrament in the ELCA. She's the founder of the Pray-Ground movement and a Moth GrandSLAM champion, teaching workshops on the craft of storytelling for churches and other organizations in the Twin Cities and beyond. She lives with her family in south Minneapolis.
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Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.
As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.