Going to church is an adventure in emotions for me. For the past seven years attending church with LuLu has been more than an adventure. But it never ceases to amaze me what God has in store for us each Sunday.


Today was no exception. As is often the case on Sundays, LuLu awoke in a bad mood, grumbling about everything but not really upset about anything in particular. I herded her and her sister through breakfast and into Sunday clothes and piled them in the car, apprehensive that we would actually make it through the service, since I could see a meltdown brewing on the horizon.

However, when we arrived, LuLu was thrilled that her friend (a little boy with special needs who has recently had his adoption finalized) was there and wanted to sit by them. Over the course of the past several months, we have gravitated toward sitting near them and other "special" families and our little corner of the sanctuary has become the unspoken "special needs" area where unexpected behavior and out-of-the-norm occurrences are taken in complete stride.

For the second Sunday in a row, a mom and her young son have sat behind us. The Sunday before we learned her son, among other special needs, has cancer and is currently undergoing treatment. This Sunday, during the "meet & greet" time of the service, we formally introduced ourselves and she said to me, "Is she your daughter?"

Now I always brace myself when I hear those words, because quite frankly, I never know what will follow. Sometimes there will be questions about adoption (appropriate or too nosy) and sometimes there will be inquiries into her odd behaviors, or worse yet, a report on something troublesome they have witnessed LuLu do.

But this woman told me that this morning LuLu had greeted her in the hall and said, "Your son has cancer, right?" "Yes." "That must be really tough, but don't worry, God can heal him." The woman was telling me this with tears in her eyes at the concern and compassion my daughter had shown. She then went on to say, "Lots of grown-ups just stare or turn away, but your daughter took the time to come up and acknowledge him."

Wow...God did it again! He blew me away. I spent the rest of the service contemplating who the REAL LuLu was --the girl who sat grumbling on my bed (complete with cuss words) this morning, or the kind, compassionate girl this stranger saw. And the conclusion I reached was that for now, both are the REAL LuLu. Her disabilities, as complex as they may be, cause her to be filled with negative, often overwhelming, emotions and to act upon those in very socially unacceptable ways. But, underneath it all she recognizes the needs of other children who have disabilities, even those very different from her.

I never thought I would see my daughter have the ability to be compassionate. For years I watched her smirk when others felt pain and actually smile or laugh when she'd caused me distress. Before I understood that this behavior was part of her attachment disorder, it looked much like pure evil and was so shocking that I had a hard time understanding how to respond as a parent to overt acts of cruelty.

But today was another milestone in realizing how much LuLu has healed. There is still so much healing to do. But, where there are glimmers of love and compassion...there are glimmers of hope!

It is no ACCIDENT that our sanctuary now has an unofficial "special needs" corner in it. What these children will learn from each other and teach us all...now that's worth going to church every Sunday to learn!