FAITHFUL CONNECTION

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by Allison Blalock and Sophie Lowrance

It is our hope at Transfiguration that children receive Holy Communion when they show a desire to do so and as they receive and become more curious about the mystery of the table they are given an opportunity to participate in our First Informed Communion Retreat & Celebration.

Our First Informed Communion Retreat is designed to help children and their parents connect more deeply with the act of sharing in the Eucharist by providing guided instruction about why we do what we do in worship. At the retreat, we tell the story of the Last Supper to help the children connect our sacred meal with Jesus. Clergy teach about the service, Altar Guild members guide children around the Sacristy, and then children create their own communion chalices.

Allison Blalock, Director of Children’s Ministries, sat down with Sophie Lowrance to see what impact this year’s First Informed Communion Retreat had on her daughter Clara.

Why was it important to you and Nash to have Clara participate in the First Informed Communion class?

Sophie: I grew up as a devout Catholic and received all my sacraments through the usual formal ceremonies. While I no longer align with many of the teachings of the Church, I have very fond memories of the excitement and extensive preparations (year-long catechesis) involved with receiving my first Holy Communion. For Clara, we wanted her to experience, understand, and celebrate the importance of receiving communion.

What was most special to you about the retreat and/or the First Informed Communion service?

Sophie: We really appreciate the hands-on approach Transfiguration takes with the children and the process of understanding communion. From Godly play activities, to tours of the sacristy with Gabby explaining what role all the vessels play, to Father Casey patiently showing the vestments and answering the endless questions, the children were granted full access. Also, having them surround the altar during the service was a perfect way to bring the entire experience full circle. The casual atmosphere did not take away from the reverence of the occasion, it provided a level of comfort and confidence in the kids since they really understood what was taking place.

As a parent, what did you hope Clara would learn/take away from the retreat?

Sophie: The fact that she was able to make bread for their communion was significant because she felt connected to the larger church community. She helped with the feast. She was so excited that everyone would be eating bread that she had a hand in making and she was very proud.

What did she like best about the First Informed Communion retreat?

Sophie: Her favorite part was making the bread! She also enjoyed painting her chalice and learning what all the symbols meant. She also really liked being able to go back in the sacristy and seeing all the special dishes and ”fancy clothes” they use for communion.

What symbol(s) did she paint on her chalice and why?

She painted the anchor cross and a chalice. She liked the way they looked and thought it was pretty.

How did the retreat help Clara grow in her relationship with God? What did she learn from the experience?

She has more confidence in her faith.

How did it make her feel to wear the same dress that you wore for First Communion?

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UNITED BY A SINGLE HOPE

by Eric Edling

Iwas born on June 28, 1993, in Dallas. A few months previously, I was diagnosed with spina bifida and have used a wheelchair since I can remember. Faith has always been a complex matter for me. When I was a child, I was reminded every day that a Christian’s actions should be defined by justice and love. Every night, I was put to bed with the words, “God loves you, and so do I.” However, the rest of the Christian world seemed to have mixed feelings about me.

In the ‘90s and early ‘00s, only a few years after disabled people won civil rights protections in 1990, no one really seemed to “get” what it meant to be disabled. So, hearing negative things about me at church didn’t seem out of place to me. I have always felt as understood in church as I did anywhere else- not particularly. As a child, I was approached at church to pray for my healing on most Sundays, and all I thought was, “Why?” I knew that this was how Christians were “supposed” to talk about disability. I knew disabled people were “supposed” to be thankful for those prayers. Prayer and healing are good things, but the spiritual treatment they prescribed made as much sense to me as recommending the Heimlich for a broken bone. I wasn’t sick, I wasn’t dying, I wasn’t in pain. I was happier than many of the non-disabled kids I knew. All I wanted was to be myself and be loved for it.

Things have gotten better, but the world is far too similar to the one I grew up in. So, when I first decided to come to Transfiguration in 2013, disability had nothing to do with my decision. I have friends and family who have been alienated from Christianity, and I wanted to find a church that would love those friends and family as much as I do. I had quietly given up on Christians extending the same to me. There seemed to be something good at the core of the Christian message, and that alone was worth staying for. I was hooked from the first sermon. Maybe these people would welcome me too. After attending as a guest for nearly a decade, I believe I was right.

Transfiguration has the potential to be a spiritual home to so many people like me. However, disability is still a massive blind spot for people on both sides of the ideological aisle, even those who consider themselves open-minded. Perhaps the best place to start the conversation is at healing. As Christians, we pray for healing and restoration. However, different people define those words differently. Many people become disabled due to a traumatic illness or injury, and their greatest hope is physical healing. There are also plenty of people like me who look at a wheelchair and see freedom. Our stories aren’t as well-received because accepting a person’s differences is more intimidating than expecting them to change. Our deepest wounds are spiritual and social. There are plenty of others whose feelings defy either side. We are united by a single hope that buoys all of us: one day, all will be set right.