Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

Most of the time, there’s no room for a man-child like Brandon.

He’s been asked to leave two churches. He’s 34 but with the mind of a 6-year-old. He can only see a glimmer of light out of the corner of one eye.

His mother died this fall. His aunt, who remarried five years ago and had settled into a full life of volunteering and church work, made room.

Her daughters have long since left the house and started their own families. This was to be a time of retirement, when her body still felt strong enough to do all the things her heart desired.
But she made room. Brandon moved into their home. They’ve started him in therapy, and he’s joined a group of other severely autistic adults. They meet in a local bowling alley.

The aunt asked her priest: Is Brandon welcome at the church? He’s talkative and doesn’t pick up on the social cues when someone’s ready to leave the conversation. And a few times, he’s told pastors at other congregations that their sermons were too long and a little boring.

Yes, said the priest. There would be room for Brandon at this church.

And so here he is, sweeping the sanctuary floor of the pine needles that have fallen from the ropes of evergreen. He talks in coffee hour with his new church family about the weather and the desserts and his favorite videos. His aunt adds his name to their Christmas cards.

And she holds his hand, guiding him to the communion rail, where he kneels like the rest of us, accepting body and blood, God’s grace and love.