Pastor's Wife No More

I'm the mama of six kids.

I’m the mama of two boys with Down syndrome.

I’m an adoptive mama.

and I’m a pastor’s wife.

I never thought I would have six kids, I never thought I would adopt, and I never thought I would have kids with disabilities, but I did always dream of being a pastor’s wife. I sat on my bed in college praying that God would allow me to marry a pastor. Being a pastor’s wife is an identity I longed to hold, but now it is a title I am ready to be done with. 

Being a mother of two children with disabilities requires so much energy, time, patience, sacrifice, and courage to constantly advocate. It’s not always easy. I remember the inadequacy I felt and the tears I cried at my own weaknesses as I thought about the patience and sacrifice that life with a child with a disability would require of me. Three years after we had my son Breck, who was born with Down syndrome, the Lord called us to adoption. We went from just accepting what God had called us to to actually choosing it. As we were adopting our second child with Down syndrome my friend encouraged me that I would never be alone. She said, “the church and God’s people will support you.” Yes, there has been support. Through the gifts of so many people our adoption was completely covered. We started raising our support in March of 2020 and raised $35,000 in 5 weeks. The Lord provided and God’s people, strangers, family and friends supported this call that God had put on our life. 

Once the baby was adopted, once the years of hospitalizations had passed, and once the major surgeries were over and meals were not needed anymore suddenly the support seemed less and less. 

The stares of pity became more frequent than the conversations of support. 

In one instance my son was running from me through the sea of people chatting after the church service. No one stopped to help me. No one bent down to help re-direct my son. No one saw me weaving through the people trying to stop my son and the one person that stopped my eloping son was the local police officer who had been hired to protect the church. 

The need for support within the church required our initiative. Support came from a small group of people, but not from the leadership. 

In the summer of 2023 it became clear, from the top leadership of our church, that our oldest son with Down syndrome was too disruptive, that he was “aggravating.” He was allowed to be in the back of the church, but not in the sanctuary during the sermon. Things were said like, “you might ask that the congregation be patient with Breck’s needs, but the rest of us would ask that you would be considerate of our needs.”  You can guess whose “needs” won out.

“I’ve been in other churches with kids with Down syndrome who don’t go running up and down the aisle yelling” (which he wasn’t doing).

It was implied that my son’s behavior reflected our poor parenting. 

“The Wilkins treat the sanctuary like it’s their living room.” 

My role as pastor’s wife and church attender were suddenly in conflict with my role as mother. 

These words, the silence from the rest of the session of elders, and the lack of care will still follows me.

Church, you missed it. You missed out on them. You missed out on me. 

Why am I telling this story? 

Today my phone rings and it’s my children’s school. I feel like seeing the name of my kids school on the phone always causes my stomach to drop because it could mean someone is in the nurses station vomiting. Not this time. 

“Hi Mrs. Wilkins, this is Ms. X calling from the community school office. I was informed by a teacher here that Breck might be interested in playing on a Tee-Ball team and we wanted to see how we can support you in this. We have community funds available and we would be able to pay for him to participate.” 

Breck attends a public school and the amount of support, love, kindness, and care we have received is unbelievable.

Last summer my other son Ike qualified for a grant from our state for $2,000 to assist us in buying any equipment we needed for him. I was told that if we chose a stroller or wagon we didn’t need any extra paper work because it falls under community engagement. 

I looked at her with tears in my eyes and said, “So you are telling me that the state of MD is willing to spend $800 on a stroller for my son with Down syndrome so that he can be more engaged in the community, but my church just told me that my child is too loud to participate in the worship service?” I don’t think she really knew what to say. 

You know what happens when you’re a pastor’s wife?  You can’t tell your truth. You can’t say how hard things are. You can’t talk about how hurt you feel by things that are said or done. 

Well I’m done with my title as pastor’s wife. So here is my truth. 

Church, do better.