April 6, 2018 at 1:53 p.m.
PERSPECTIVE
I am autistic -- and my parish welcomes me
Mom is writing this for me, as I am unable to. I am 39 years old. I have used American Sign Language since I was six. My signing is limited. I am beginning to use a new system of communication called PECS; I use a lot of gestures and some of my own signs.
When I was little, Mom tried to take me to church, but because of disruptive behaviors it became very difficult. She did, however, talk to me about baby Jesus through the years. I love babies.
Every Christmas, it was a tradition in our house to put up the nativity first. My brother put in St. Joseph; my sister, the Blessed Mother - and I got to put in baby Jesus. Every year, when I found Him, I would jump up and down and let out my famous happy squeal.
When I was 36, Mom and I were putting away the nativity and Mom got out a statue of Jesus at Gethsemane that she had made. I got excited and pointed to baby Jesus, signing "baby," then pointed to Jesus at Gethsemane and signed "grow."
One day, I was riding in Mom's car. On her visor was a cross. Mom told me it was to remind us of Jesus. We drove by a church and I pointed to the cross and church. Boy, did I shock Mom!
Mom shared these stories with some Bible-study friends. They encouraged her to bring me to church. She did; we sat in the back, and she gave me a book about the Mass. I looked at the book and watched everything.
Mom had made arrangements for Father Anthony [Ligato, then pastor] to bring communion back to her. When I saw people going to communion, I pushed Mom to go, but she said we had to wait. When Father Anthony gave Mom communion, of course I signed "eat." He lovingly said, "Not yet."
After that, whenever I saw the deacon or Father Anthony in a white alb, I signed "eat." Mom talked to Father Anthony about what was happening. He put her in touch with a parishioner who also worked [with persons with disabilities].
Mom, the parishioner, my house manager and Father Anthony began working with me so I could make my First Communion. Many people said I would never sit in a pew, let alone make my First Communion. But on that Pentecost Sunday, Mom and the staff were shaking, watching the Holy Spirit work in me.
I did my usual fussing at first. When Mass started, Mom pointed to the pictures about the Mass in my book. She told me that a lector was going to read from Jesus' special book, called the Bible. She said it had stories about Jesus.
When the lector began reading, I picked up the hymnal and held it close to me while she read, and when she finished I put it down. When Father Anthony was consecrating the host, I found the picture of the chalice and host in my Mass book and signed "eat."
When Mom got back from communion, she knelt. I kept pushing her to sit next to me. She told me she needed to kneel and talk to Jesus. When she did sit, I pushed her back to kneel: I wanted her to talk to Jesus some more.
Mom did not sit with me anymore, as Father Anthony wanted to make sure I understood who I was receiving and that I wanted to be in church because of Jesus, not just to be with Mom.
Other things happened to show I was ready to receive Jesus. Parishioners always spoke to me after Mass. Even though I ignored them sometimes, they kept encouraging me and accepted my behaviors.
One Sunday, Father Anthony had to defend the host, I wanted it so much. I bolted out of my pew and marched up to Father. He said, "Not yet, Cindy." I sat in front of him on the floor and would not move. The parishioners simply walked around me.
On May 17, 2009, I made my First Communion - in the back of the church, where I was more comfortable. I made a few noises at Mass, did not stand or kneel and did not do the Sign of Peace. Within a year, I began often kneeling and standing at appropriate times.
Now, as soon as Mass starts, I get very quiet. I am doing the Sign of Peace and working on blessing myself with holy water. I walk down the aisle and receive communion with my parish family.
My parish family has loved me. We have coffee after Mass; they let me wander in the parish hall and have my nose almost on top of things. (I am also legally blind, but can see with glasses if I get close to things.)
I sometimes push people a little, as I use them as tools. They love me and accept me through that. They have learned my signs and gestures; I am beginning to communicate without Mom interpreting. They give me rosaries and holy cards that I like to collect.
Father Tom [Lawless, the current pastor] wrote to Bishop [Howard J.] Hubbard to ask permission to administer the sacrament of confirmation to me, as I was used to him. On Pentecost Sunday this year, I made my confirmation.
Mom had talked to me a lot about it. She said I got a look of understanding on my face. Mom told me I would love Jesus more and be strong with Jesus' help. I signed "strong." I already have influenced two of the folks who live in the [group home] with me to come to church with me every Sunday.
My confirmation could not have been more perfect. The Holy Spirit was all over me: I usually avoid eye contact, but my eyes were totally on what Father Tom was doing and saying to me.
Some women in my parish had a wonderful reception for me afterward. They had cake, banners saying "God Bless Cindy," decorations in green (my favorite color), gifts and lots of food. Many members of my parish family were there. Their love, acceptance and support has brought me to where I am in my relationship with Jesus.
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