Easy on the Incense, Father

Let’s get one thing straight: Jesus doesn’t need us all choking on frankincense to feel the Holy Spirit. As a mom, I see Children as the heart of the church. Not a side ministry. Not a future idea. Not a “nice to have.” They are the present and the future of our faith. Without them, we’re one potluck away from extinction.

But what happens when your child doesn’t fit the quiet, polished mold that Sunday mornings sometimes expect?

Let me tell you what happens—you stand outside the church again, because too much incense meant your kid couldn’t stay in the sanctuary without melting down.

My Kid Is Neurodivergent. Church Is Hard. Period.

My eldest daughter is neurodivergent. She’s on the autism spectrum and also has dyslexia, dysgraphia, and social pragmatic communication disorder. Translation: she processes the world differently than most kids. Bright lights, strong smells, sudden noises—those things can turn a holy moment into a holy mess real fast.

I remember the first time I brought her to church. The booming organ terrified her. She flinched, covered her ears, and looked at me like I had betrayed her. Then came the incense—instant exit. And you know what? She still hates the smell.

We briefly attended a high-church Episcopal parish—and I loved it. The pageantry, the music, the vestments, the reverence… it filled my spirit. But it became a sensory nightmare for a neurodivergent kid, ultimately causing me to search for greener pastures – the kind without frankincense.

I had “the talk” with the priest more than once: “Father, we love this church. But if you overdo it on the incense, I’ll be spending the entire liturgy outside wrangling a child in distress. Again.”

And I meant it. I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s Anglo-Catholic vibes, but there has to be a balance.

Sacred Doesn’t Have to Mean Inaccessible

This is where the church needs a reality check. If our sacred spaces aren’t accessible to all of God’s children—including the ones who stim, rock, flap, or fidget—then who exactly are we welcoming?

I’m not asking for a silent disco Mass (although… lowkey brilliant). I’m asking for awareness. For compassion. For leadership that gets that inclusion doesn’t mean watering things down—it means opening things up.

Maybe that means offering a sensory-friendly pew. Or printing a bulletin that lets parents know when the organ or incense will kick in. Or (gasp) occasionally dialing it back a bit for the sake of families who are trying desperately just to show up.

Let’s Talk About What Real Welcome Looks Like

Here’s the thing: when you include my daughter, you’re not doing us a favor—you’re doing what Jesus asked.

He didn’t say, “Let the well-behaved children come to me.”
He didn’t say, “Let the quiet kids come to me.”
He said, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them.”

So don’t hinder us with judgmental stares or side comments when she wears headphones. Don’t hinder us with traditions that leave zero room for sensory differences. Don’t hinder us by pretending a meltdown means my child (or I) don’t belong in the pew.

We’re here. We’re tired. And we brought snacks. What we need is a church that sees us—and stays easy on the incense.

For Parents: Speak Up with Love

If you’re a parent navigating this same road, here’s my best advice: talk to your clergy. Tell them what your child needs. Explain what sets them off. Share what helps. You are your child’s best advocate—and most clergy truly want to help once they understand the situation. They may not be aware of the challenges unless you inform them. Give them the chance to walk beside you.

For Clergy: A Little Flexibility Goes a Long Way

And to our priests, deacons, and lay leaders: we know tradition matters. We understand that you’re managing multiple needs. But please—if a child is struggling, try to meet that family halfway. Adjust when you can. Ask what would help. Demonstrate your care through action, not just words. A slight change in the service might be the difference between a family staying and a family giving up entirely.

Because let’s be honest: no one wants to feel like they have to choose between their faith and their family’s wellbeing. And they shouldn’t have to.