The One Thing I’d Tell Every Special Needs Parent

Ivan sits peacefully in his wheelchair inside a softly lit cathedral, bathed in warm light from stained-glass windows.

A few years ago, I was interviewed for a podcast for parents raising children with disabilities. At the end, the host asked, “If you could give one piece of advice to parents raising special needs kiddos, what would it be?”

Caught off guard, I blurted out, “Take a nap!”

The interviewer laughed, and I elaborated on how important it is to make time for yourself, to rest, and to practice self-care. I talked about sleep and I think I even quoted the old adage, you can’t pour from an empty cup.

The ironic part? I never nap. I’m usually running on less sleep than anyone should, but even so, I still think that’s decent advice.

However, if someone were to ask me that same question today, my three-word answer would be completely different: Go to church.

The Kind of Community You Can’t Find on Your Phone

Now, I know some of you just rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, but hear me out. I’m not only talking about religion (though faith truly does transform your life). I’m talking about that overused but still vital word: community.

A large group of church friends of all ages smiles and gathers in a cozy kitchen, with Amber and her family in front and Ivan standing beside her with support.
From strangers to family! Our church community gathered for food, laughter, and friendship.

We often talk about “the special needs community” or “the medically complex community” as if they’re places we visit. For most of us, community means a Facebook group (or two or three). We log in, ask questions, get advice, share resources, and maybe vent a little.

And that’s not bad! I’ve met wonderful people online and found support, laughter, and understanding there. But let’s be honest: Your phone is not a community. It’s a device.

Amber, her husband, their son Ivan, and Ivan’s grandfather sit on the church steps with their yellow Labrador during the annual Blessing of the Pets. Other parishioners and pets gather nearby.
Our family (and Ipo the dog!) at the Blessing of the Pets.

If your main form of connection happens through a screen, you may still find yourself facing the hardest parts of life alone.

When your child ends up in the ER and you need someone to feed your dog…
When you come home from a long hospital stay and wish someone would bring over dinner…
When your child is hooked up to a 48-hour EEG and you just need a five-minute break…

Who’s there to help? It’s not your virtual friends.

You need real people, the kind who can show up. Friends who can hug you, make you laugh, and sit with you when you’re exhausted. Some of us have that naturally; many of us don’t. And making friends as an adult can feel impossible.

So where do you find them?

Finding Connection in an Unexpected Place

At your local church.

There’s a ready-made community right down the road, filled with people who, by design, want to welcome, support, and love others. They meet every Sunday, and they’ll be genuinely thrilled when you walk in and say, “Is it okay if I join you?”

Amber, her husband, and Ivan sit together at a church hall luncheon, surrounded by friends and parishioners chatting and enjoying food.
Sharing a meal with our parish family.

If your child needs accommodations, they’ll bend over backwards to help. I know because it happened to us.

When my family walked into a church for the first time in decades, I expected polite smiles. Instead, I found warmth. People wanted to know us, to help us, to make us comfortable. Two and a half years later, I can say we have more real-life friends (people who love us and our son) than I ever thought possible.

We’ve joined prayer groups, Bible studies, and parish events. When I run into familiar faces at Target or the pharmacy, I smile because I finally know people in my own town. For so long, I felt isolated. But now, I have a community.

Ivan’s dad walks down a sunny street with fellow members of the Knights of Columbus during the town’s Memorial Day Parade. The group waves to the crowd as people line the sidewalks.
Ivan’s dad marching proudly with the Knights of Columbus, another way our family has found friendship and purpose through service.

We talk a lot about how modern society has lost its sense of connection. The truth is, we didn’t lose community; we lost church.

Churches are struggling in many places because there aren’t enough people in the pews. But when you go to church, you don’t just rebuild your faith, you help rebuild community itself.

But What If I Don’t Believe?

You might be thinking, Okay, I see your point about community… but I don’t believe in God.

Here’s a little secret: Your local church is full of people who struggle with belief, too! They aren’t perfect. They’re doubters, sinners, and sometimes even hypocrites.

And that’s okay!

Hospitals are for the sick in the same way that churches are for sinners. When the Pharisees criticized Jesus for spending time with sinners, He said:

“Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” — Mark 2:17

So if your faith feels old, dusty, or uncertain, you’ll fit right in! Sit through a service. Listen with an open heart. Have coffee and donuts afterward. Meet people. Find friendship. Try to live in the light of the Gospel, and know that stumbling along the way doesn’t make you a hypocrite. It makes you human.

Amber, her husband, and their son Ivan gather in a pew-lined church, each holding a candle during their baptism ceremony. Ivan sits in his wheelchair while his parents stand beside him, smiling warmly.
Our family’s baptism where we were officially welcomed into the church community.

I once heard someone say: Even if you don’t know what you believe, try living like a Christian for three months. Go to church. Read Scripture. Pray. See how your life feels.

You might be surprised by the peace, order, and joy that begin to take root. You’ll certainly meet good people, make lasting friendships, and rediscover the sense of belonging we all crave.

Parenting a child with disabilities can be profoundly isolating. But you don’t have to do it alone. Community still exists, and it’s waiting for you in a pew not far from home.

Go to church.
Find your people.
And maybe, just maybe, find your peace.

van sits in his wheelchair inside Holy Cross Cathedral, wearing a patterned blue shirt and smiling softly. The church’s tall white columns and stained-glass windows glow behind him.
Ivan smiling at Holy Cross Cathedral.


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