SHELLY HUHTANEN

Problems in the Pew

Even though there is a high probability that Broden will giggle again in a church service, our family is going to try again. Yes, I will be anticipating some judgmental stares and maybe even some eye rolls. Mark and I have decided that we are still going to try. We're going to try because our family should be allowed to worship. Giggles and all.

Another PCS move is in the books. This means finding a new normal and meeting a new group of people who will be our neighbors for the next few years. The A word seems to have been coming up more and more lately as people living around us ask us questions about our boys. Many are trying to find playmates for their children so it's understandable that they ask us about our children.

On a walk one morning, we met one of our neighbors on the corner who happened to be a Chaplain. He was very kind and welcoming and encouraged us to give church a try. After explaining to him Broden's autism, he assured us that they were laid back at the service and that we should attend that weekend.

That Sunday, the family scramble commenced. Like clockwork, I misjudged the time it would take to make sure every human in our house was bathed, hair combed, and teeth partially brushed. Ironing my pants became a frivolous expectation so I did low squats to the car in the hopes of stretching out my wrinkled pants. Who were we kidding? In Huhtanen fashion, we were late, yet again.

We shuffled into the worship hall while I had my hand pressed against Broden's back. He stiffened his legs and started to dig his heals into the carpeted floor. The church was small with only about five or six pews from the small stage. A typical family may think, "Wow, how intimate." Our family had a completely different view, "Wow, we can't hide or attempt to blend." Yea, this was going to be interesting.

We were holding it together pretty good during the singing portion, but things took a nose dive half-way into the sermon. Halfway into the sermon talking about faithfulness, Broden began to giggle louder and louder. The more we tried to quiet him down, the louder and more frequent his giggling became. Suddenly, I look up and to the right and I saw it. I saw the look. You know, the judgmental kind. The kind of look that when you are feeling at your most vulnerable, they make you want to slither out of the room and never be seen again. My husband didn't see it, but I did. Before my husband could respond, I grabbed Broden and dragged him out of the pew and into the front lobby to sit on the couch.

As I sat there on the couch with Broden, the only ones in the front lobby area of the church, I was reminded again that we were different. After the sermon and the music started again, I low-crawled with Broden back to the pew to finish out the service. Once the service was over, the four of us ran out the door and to our car for a quick getaway. Maybe the congregation didn't notice me dragging my child out by his arm.

Who were we kidding? They saw everything. The next morning, we saw the Chaplin and his wife again while we were walking our dog. The cul de sac was too small to dodge the possible confrontation. Running back into the house to hide would probably look too suspicious. "It was great to see you at church yesterday," said the Chaplain as I tilted my eyes down knowing that he saw me drag Broden out of church during his sermon. I responded, "Well, I got a look from someone in the next pew so I grabbed him and got out of there. He can be loud."

I know it wasn't his fault that one of the churchgoer's behavior made me feel unwelcome, but I guess the wound was still a little fresh. I was probably angry at myself for leaving the pew instead of knowing that both of us had a right to be there to worship. The saucy side of me wanted to look over at her and wave while yelling, "Yay Jesus! He loves us all no matter how loud we are! Thank goodness for that, right?" But I didn't. We've only been at this installation for two weeks and I knew I should at least try to be here for a month before being known as THAT family.

My experience this past es were nearly twice as high as compared to children with no chronic health conditions." The reason is weekend is not rare and probably occurred many times around our country this past Sunday in many congregations. A National Survey of Children's Health conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention stated that "the odds of a child with autism never attending religious servic es were nearly twice as high as compared to children with no chronic health conditions."

The reason is plain and simple. In church, expectations are high concerning what is acceptable behavior in the congregation. These high expectations include children. When a child is judged by not meeting behavioral expectations, the child's family feels the burden and questions the congregation's acceptance. In the end, families may not return in fear of being judged yet again.

Even though there is a high probability that Broden will giggle again in a church service, our family is going to try again. Yes, I will be anticipating some judgmental stares and maybe even some eye rolls. Mark and I have decided that we are still going to try. We're going to try because our family should be allowed to worship. Giggles and all. •

PUZZLES & CAMO

Shelly Huhtanen is an Army wife stationed at Fort Benning, GA who has a child with autism. She enjoys sharing her experiences of day-to-day life caring for her son with autism while serving as an Army spouse. She authored "Giving a Voice to the Silent Many" that encompasses many stories of raising a child with autism in the military. Shelly is passionate about autism advocacy for our military and works to bring awareness to our local legislators and command about providing better support for our military autism community, such as better health care and education.