Socks are Stocking Stuffers

We've been gathering for church on Wednesday evenings, twice monthly. We celebrated Christmas together this second week of December and won't meet again in an organized sense until the new year. There are six children under the age of 11 in our group. I had decided to buy a gift for each child for the Christmas party.

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A few years back our church showed a video interviewing children about the worst gifts to receive at Christmas...socks was a frequent answer. Despite seeing this video, the message didn't sink in. I was probably distracted by some greater theme like, "Jesus is the reason for the season."

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My autistic child wanted to be a wolf for Halloween. In the obsessed fashion that only she can pull off, she howled at every door so the person behind it would know she was a wolf, not a cat, even though she was wearing cat ears.

Naturally, when I saw a pair of socks with a fuzzy texture she would love and a wolf on them, I thought she would go bananas for them. The price and size of the gift were in line with the individual treasures I had picked for each of the other children to open at the church Christmas party. I purchased this "perfect" gift without a second thought.

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Gift opening with autism is a tricky thing. Expectations are set and many autistics humans struggle with flexible thinking. What this means is if my child anticipates the gift to be something and it is not that something, the reaction will probably be less than flattering. We are working on that reaction. It is known as "the social fake" and it must be taught.

Guess what? My child was not expecting "grey fox socks" and did not appreciate a gift I actually put a lot of thought into. What was supposed to be a fun little gift turned into an evening of navigating emotions (my own included) toward this unexpected gift and her reaction toward it.

Eventually, some dancing lights I put on distracted and relaxed her. While the other kids danced around to Christmas tunes, she surprised me by saying she wanted to talk. We went into her bedroom and closed the door missing the goodbyes for the evening.

She worked through her feelings expressing that socks are "stocking stuffers" and should never be given as a Christmas gift. Why would I buy her "grey fox socks?" I shared the thought I put into the gift and my feelings.

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I came home from work the following day to fuzzy feet loving her new pair of wolf grey fox socks. She gushed how they kept her feet warm and she grinned as she ran her fingers along the tops taking in the texture.

Sometimes neurodiverse people need time to appreciate a gift or adjust their expectations. If you give someone you love a gift this season and don't get the reaction you hope, remember not everyone has mastered the social fake and the genuine appreciation is worth the wait.

Oh and in case you didn't get the message, socks are stocking stuffers.

Hooky

 "I'm coming with a heart of worship

I'm bringing in a brand new song

I'm ready to see the unthinkable

I'm ready for a miracle

Hearts praying for fresh encounter

Souls looking to the living God

I'm ready for a real revival

O Holy Spirit"

-Patrick Mayberry

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Sometimes I skip Sunday church. My only reason is that I am a Monday-to-Friday-working-full-time mom and the weekends are always too short, especially in December. I am an introvert who spends A LOT of time with people and children. I need time by myself to recharge. Often my alone time is spent dodging my children. Sitting in the kitchen, in the open, and music blaring is better than trying to hide. As soon as I hide, in their eyes, the game to find me and make demands begins.

This brings me to hiding from church from time to time. I am not talking about hiding from God. I am not talking about hiding from community. I am talking about literally the building and all it can entail. Church often makes me feel not good enough, especially when I am new. I have been "new" to a great number of churches in my time, not because I am not dedicated or committed, but because Chris (my husband) is a pastor. The feeling of inadequacy is not all bad, it's partially the point because this is why I need Jesus; to bridge the inadequacy, because He is enough and that is His gift.

I will always bring the bias of a pastor's wife to my writing and yet, I even have a problem with that, no one call's Chris the teacher's husband. When I think about church, I often think about clipboards awaiting my name to sign-up for things I don't want to do or things that won't progress my spiritual health. I am left with a heavy weight that unless I sign-up, I am not enough. The unspoken message of “you reap what you sow,” and so if it "isn't worth my time," the problem is my attitude. I am sometimes told this feeling in my gut is the Holy Spirit's conviction. Yet, I feel only manipulation to write my name down.

On the reverse side, I feel like an alien on a foreign planet. I don't know what is happening outside the walls or even where the clipboards are. Longing for connection or a desire to help I feel like I have to infiltrate a secret society. Isn't this supposed to be about loving God and serving Him together? Why do I feel so alone?

We must normalize that church participation is not an indicator of spiritual health. We correlate that good Christians go to church every Sunday, in many of the reformed denominations, you must go twice. For participation in church extra-curriculars to be healthy, participation must be birthed from a desire rather than coercion; just like a person's relationship with God. There is freedom in true love, not bondage. We must ask ourselves as church leaders, "what harm are we potentially causing?" to progress the cause of Christ.

And so, rather than going to church this morning, I wrote this blog, in between emptying the dishwasher, turning loads of laundry, and pausing, allowing music and the power of God to wash over me. This is church to me. My advent wreath sits on the table and awaits the family to gather around it, where my children will excitedly light candles and be active participants in their own faith story. My heart is full and ready to pour as I anticipate celebrating the birth of a child on whom my faith hinges. His manger cries echo the words, "You are enough, because I am..."

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Disclaimer: these generalizations do not represent any particular church past or present.