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Home / Stories / Personal Histories / Other's Stories / Going to church

Going to church

Written by Claire on Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Recently I went on another pretending trip, to a new town this time. I drove about 3-1/2 hours, an hour further than usual, straight south, to make sure I got warmer weather this time! So I went south, to a place that had a good forecast for the days I planned to be gone. Note, it was still quite chilly, but at least relatively dry. As usual, I had several adventures, but the biggest adventure proved to be going to church.

Inaccessible

While my trip was in the planning stages, I looked up local churches and service times, and printed out maps two two different churches of my denomination. I planned to go to the noon service at Saint Patrick’s, just before catching a matinee at the cinema. I showed up for the service a few minutes early, and and drove by slowly to scope it out. I have by now learned not to bother getting out of the car until I know where the accessible entrance is and whether there is one at all. I drove by twice, stopped and looked, but I didn’t see one. It’s an old stone building with a flight of stairs going up to the entrance. The stairway is flanked by two unmarked doors on either side on ground level, with no indication of what they lead to. People were arriving for mass, climbing the stairs. I couldn’t see a ramp or accessible entrance anywhere, but there were two accessible parking spots right near the entrance so I figured there must be a way to get in. I decided that I had to get out of the car and investigate how to get into the church. I parked and wheeled over to the base of the steps, looking around. A guy came trotting up, taking the steps two at a time, and then paused at the top of the steps to look down at me.

He called down: "Oh, hey, the elevator’s broken!"

"Uh…it’s broken??" I replied stupidly.

"Yeah, it’s been broken for like, three weeks. Well, unless they’ve fixed it."

I pointed to the nearest ground-level door. "Is it in there?" I asked. He nodded. I tried the door, it was locked.

"Yeah, it must still be broken," he observed.

"Okay, thanks." I said, a bit crestfallen. He entered the church, followed by two little old ladies. I called out "Excuse me…" They stopped and turned around. I asked if there was another daily mass at a different parish.

They said "Oh, yes, Our Lady of Hope at 4pm." Then they asked "Do you want to get in here?" as if they were going to carry me up the steps!!

I said "Um…no, thanks, that’s a lot of steps." One of the ladies went in to verify the mass times on the bulletin board in the entry way and returned saying "Yes, there’s a mass at Our Lady’s at 4:00."

I said, kind of jokingly (but kind of not), "The elevator isn’t broken there, is it?"

They exclaimed "Oh, no, you’ll be just fine!"

I thanked them, got in my car and drove away. I had some time to kill before the movie, which I would now see before mass.

I went to have lunch at a pub that had a 4" step up at the threshold. I got in the door but it was difficult. The rest of lunch was uneventful, but before leaving I asked to speak to the manager. She came over and I explained that I had a hard time getting in the door, and why. She said "Oh, really, nobody’s ever said anything before." A server looking on remarked "Well, the other customers in wheelchairs we have always come in with somebody." The manager said "Yeah, you’re right, they do. They must help them get in." I remarked that a person in a power chair or scooter probably couldn’t get in at all. She agreed and thanked me for telling them about it. After I paid, she came up to me and said "The owner is in the kitchen and I told him what you said. He said he’s definitely going to take a look at it." She again thanked me, saying "Nobody’s ever said anything before!" I told her I wasn’t shy. "There you go!" she laughed. So, then I had to ask the server to hold the door open for me because I really didn’t think I could get out. It would require holding the door open while popping an wheelie one-handed and bumping down the step, which I thought beyond my abilities at this point. She held the door and I popped a wheelie and went down the step. She said "You get around pretty good there!" I said "Yeah, well I get around better when there are no steps!" The next time I’m in the area, you can be sure I’ll do a drive-by to see if they did anything. I’m not holding my breath.

The trip to the cinema was uneventful, and I arrived quite early for the 4pm mass at Our Lady of Hope. Again I did my drive-by scoping out the entrance. This church had similar architecture: a long stairway up to entrance doors in the front, but this time with no ground-level doors. On the side of the building, there were two other entrances, one with two steps up, and one with one step up. This latter door was marked "Parish Office." There was accessible parking directly in the front of the building so I figured there must be a way to get in. I got out of the car, transferred to my chair and wheeled to the Parish Office door. I opened the door, but couldn’t get in, the step was too high. Even if I could have gotten up the single step, it wouldn’t have done any good, because just beyond the entry was another half-flight of steps to a second door marked "Parish Office."

Unwelcome

At this point, my heart just sunk. All I wanted to do was to attend mass. In a Catholic church. It’s a funny thing…all my life I’ve been Catholic and I’ve done quite a bit of traveling. One of my favorite things to do when abroad is to attend Catholic mass. Because regardless of race, or language, or culture, Catholic mass is nearly always the same. Anyone is welcome at a Catholic mass, and if you’re Catholic, any Catholic church is "home". You can attend mass in a language that you don’t speak a word of, and yet you feel like you belong, it feels familiar, and you feel welcome, because you’re a part of the universal body of Christ. Christ is in the tabernacle and the eucharist is celebrated and whether mass is in English, or Greek, or German, or Croatian, or Mandarin, or Czech, or whatever…it doesn’t matter. It’s a Catholic mass, and you can follow right along even if you don’t understand a word of it. There have been times in my life when I have felt abandoned by everyone, and just entering an empty Catholic church and knowing that the Lord was present in the tabernacle waiting for me to come brought me a feeling of peace and solace. And yet here, three hours from my home, for the first time in my life I felt unwelcome in a Catholic church. I can understand an elevator being broken, but for three weeks! And even that might be excused, if there were another accessible church nearby. But here, the nearest other Catholic church is totally inaccessible. I felt like the Church had slammed a door in my face, and wondered how other local Catholic wheelers felt. No doubt were I to complain to the diocese, the response would be "Nobody’s ever said anything before." It was a first in my life, to feel unwelcome at my Church, and it hurt. Bad.

This second door marked "Parish Office" had the office hours posted on it. According to these, there was somebody in there. So I called out "Hello??" several times and knocked loudly on the door I was holding open but couldn’t pass through. There was no response. Finally, in desperation, and some anger, I yelled "Help!" A lady opened the door, and seeing me, exclaimed "OH!!" (I just love it when I occasion excitement and surprise. NOT). I asked her how to get in the building, where is the ramp? I knew at this point there wasn’t one but I had to make a point of asking. She responded that there isn’t one. I said "Ok, is there an elevator?" And no, there isn’t an elevator but the parish council has been trying to raise the funds to put one it. I was aghast. "So, there’s not a single way to get in the church?" She shook her head apologetically. I pointed out this is 2007, the church is clearly at least 50 years old, they should have had ramps or an elevator in 20 years ago! "Yes, I know," she said, unhelpfully, obviously feeling bad.

At this point, another lady joined the first one, wanting to know what was going on. She suggested that they help me up the steps. I flatly (put politely) refused. She said "Really, it’s no problem, we’d love to have you join us!" and continued to insist. I pointed out that they could hurt their backs, or drop me, or both, and that I would just go to mass when I got home. The second lady pointed out that the other side door only has two steps up and she thought that there might be a ramp in the garage. She left to go check on this ramp. I was feeling doubtful, wondering why they’d have a ramp in the garage, and how far away would it be and how heavy would it be, and why don’t they just have one in place instead of in the garage somewhere??

She was gone for a minute and returned with two men in tow! She said "We’re going to go in this door here, and they’ll help you up the steps." Again I refused, but they all pressed me so hard that I could hardly say no. They really wanted to get me in that church. It started to get embarrassing. I finally accepted to at least take a look at the entrance they were proposing. I wheeled to the side door that had two steps up, and they opened it so I could see that there was a corridor sloping up, beyond. "Is that all?" I asked. They said, no, there’s about 4 steps up into the church, around the corner. But the lady added "We can get you in this far, and you can stay at the bottom of the steps, you can see into the church from there, and I’ll bring you communion, OK?" I very dubiously agreed to that, probably against my better judgment, but all these people seemed very much to want to get me into that church and I was wavering under the constant pressure. It was only two steps after all. So I wheeled around and backed up to the steps and before I could explain how to safely get me up the steps, they all grabbed my chair by the wheels and lifted me up! Nobody was hanging onto the front or back of the chair and so the chair swiveled forward alarmingly. About to be pitched out of the chair, I had to push mightily with my feet on my footplate and grab the handle of the door in order to keep from falling! They finished manhandling me up the two steps and set me on the floor inside the church. My heart was pounding and I realized that had I been a para I would probably be sprawling in the doorway right about now.

However, I thanked them, and spun around to wheel up the passageway to the base of the other flight of steps. I could indeed see into the church from there, right down to the alter, and the lady again promised to bring me communion down there. I started to feel rather ridiculous, and actually a bit nervous about being alone in a place I couldn’t get out of. At this point, the other lady remarked, "It’s awfully cold here in the vestibule. You’re going to freeze!" And I had to admit that it was cold, and I was only wearing a light windbreaker not really appropriate for the weather (because I can’t wheel well in my winter coat). I thought to myself "They could have thought of that before they brought me in here!" I didn’t think I’d make it for an hour sitting there in the cold vestibule. So here facing me were four steps up into the church. Because of the cold issue, my new friends all started making noises again about carrying me up the steps. But there was no way I was going to repeat that experience. First, I was afraid that the two steps we did already was hard on them, and second, it scared the crap out of me. But I had now gotten this far, and it seemed ridiculous to turn back and ask those people to take me back down the two steps we had just negotiated, and I was cold, and it looked nice in the church.

I made a quick decision and told them, "I’ll go up the stairs on my own, if you can carry my chair up there." And with that, before they could start exclaiming all over again, I transferred from the chair to the second step, and started pulling myself up the steps in a sitting position. Of course, they started exclaiming the kinds of comments I’ve heard before in various situations (already!) "Boy you’ve got that all figured out!" and "Wow, she can really get around" (ha!). One of the men carried my chair to the top of the steps, where I was now sitting, and then they all stood around me and of of them asked "Do you want us to lift you into your wheelchair?"

"NO!!" I exclaimed in near horror. "No, thank you" I said a little more calmly, and somehow dragged my butt into the chair from the floor, cheating VERY badly in the process, but I’m sure they didn’t notice. Once seated I thanked them all profusely. During this whole ordeal people were still coming in the church and I was causing quite a commotion with my wheelchair and dragging my butt up the stairs. At this point I was quite regretting the whole situation. Somehow it had gotten way out of hand.

But I was finally in the church, and mass was to start in a few minutes. One of the old men said "Here, here, you can sit right up in front here…" and ushered me to a place in front, but really, I thought, I can find my own spot to sit! I wheeled to where he indicated, and someone brought me a missalette because I’d forgotten to get one. I was sitting in front of the front pew but off to the side, and there were two little old ladies sitting in the first pew right behind me. I was now settled, just sitting there, doing nothing, and I started to take my gloves off. One of the little old ladies watched me take my gloves off and asked me if I need any help! I was just sitting there! I smiled politely and said "No, thank you."

I was there quite early, and they were going to say the rosary before mass. One of the ladies who helped me in the building came over to me and asked me if I had a rosary. I said no, and she handed me a plastic one. The rosary was said, and then mass started, and to be honest, I only got very little out of it, because the whole time I was worrying about how the heck I was going to get back out of the building. I just couldn’t concentrate on mass. It was almost comical. I went through all that to get to mass, and then couldn’t concentrate on it for two minutes together!

After mass, I wheeled over to return the rosary to the lady who lent it to me and she said I could keep it. She had a whole box of them at home, they’d all been blessed and everything on a trip to Medjugorje. I thanked her. A gentleman who hadn’t been part of my "entourage" approached me and bent down to my level, smiling into my face. He said that he was very happy to see me here, and held out his hand to shake mine. I gave him my hand, and he slipped a piece of candy into it! I smiled, laughing a bit, thanking him, but thinking to myself "No way!! He did NOT just give me a piece of candy like a 4 year old!" Something of my incredulity must have showed on my face because as he left, the rosary lady told me that he’s known as the Candy Man because he does that to everyone. I felt slightly relieved. As the gentleman walked away, the rosary lady remarked that this was the man who was currently working on getting a wheelchair lift for the parish, and that’s why he was so happy to see me. "Because he sees that if there was one, people would use it," I said. "Exactly," she responded. When the whole ordeal was over and I had time to reflect upon it, I realized that I might have caused a commotion at mass, and felt and looked like an idiot dragging my ass up the stairs, but perhaps there was a reason that I showed up there that day. Who knows, maybe my appearance was the push they needed to finally get that project into gear?

Now mass was emptying out and the people who had helped me get into the church were hanging back waiting for me to go down the stairs again. At first I told them that I’d prefer to wait until most of the people left (not wanting to provide another freak show). Unfortunately, everyone was standing around chatting in the vestibule and showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. I didn’t want my helpers to have to wait for me, I felt that I had put them to quite enough trouble already. So I made a decision that my discomfort going down the stairs on my butt was less important than making these nice folks wait any longer, and I so crawled out of my chair and scooted down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps a kid about 4 or 5 years old, who was standing around waiting for his mother to finish chatting, stared up at me with huge wide eyes as I bumped down the steps. I gave him a big smile and he smiled back! He continued to grin at me and me at him as I scooted down the stairs. He thought it was funny, but not in a bad way, I thought it was kind of funny too. We shared a little joke. Someone had my chair waiting for me at the bottom of the steps and I transferred into it, again thanking my helper. I wheeled down the sloping passageway to the door I had entered. I considered crawling out of my chair again rather than be lifted, but I figured for two steps, maybe we could handle this. I was down to two helpers now, the two men. They proceeded out the front door and were both in front of me, and they made to grab the front of my chair! I said "WAIT!!" and in a very strict, matter of fact voice, said "This is how we are going to do this. One person in front, one in back. I’m going to pop a wheelie like this [I demonstrate] and I’m going to go down the first step on two wheels. You hold on to my foot plate here, to keep me from pitching forward, and you hold on to this bar in back, to keep me from falling backwards." They indicated that they understood. So, we made it down the two steps relatively easily. I again thanked them profusely for their help.

I doubt if I’ll ever accept help up or down stairs again, but if I ever do, I am going to know to tell them exactly what to do before they start hoisting me in the air! The men followed me to my car and insisted on helping me put the chair in the car, even though I told them I can do it myself. I drove off, vowing that if I ever return to this town, I’ll go to the Spanish-speaking parish, because on the Internet that one had a photo of a nice big ramp to the front entrance.

[tags]Transabled, BIID, Pretending, Wheelchair, Paraplegic, Pretender[/tags]