The Sherman-Strand Family
The routine on Sunday morning is almost as familiar to Resurrection Mpls as the cups of Five Watt coffee, when John Strand ducks inside the old brick building to recruit the necessary muscle for bringing his son Wendell inside. Eye contact or a slight head nod is sometimes all it takes. Then one of the half-dozen or so people who take unofficial turns getting Wendell inside will hoist the bottom of the wheelchair. John picks up the back. The steps to the front door of the church, some cracked from the wear of decades of Minnesota winters, are the only way in. The distance to the entrance from the usual parking spot on the street for the family’s customized minivan is just a few feet, but it can feel like a mile.
Wendell is eight years old, the second of four children of John and his wife Katie Sherman. They’re members from the days when the congregation was solely Aldrich Avenue Presbyterian, long before the cooperative ministry with City of Lakes Covenant was even an idea. The regular presence of the Sherman-Strand family at worship services has become a heavier lift over time, because Wendell was born with a genetic mutation, called GNB1, caused by a random switch from one amino acid to another. It’s so rare that only about 70 children worldwide have been diagnosed with this condition defined by uncontrollable seizures, low muscle tone and significant developmental delay. It’s prevented him from being able to walk or talk.
“What I sometimes think about is what happens when Wendell gets older and bigger,” John says. “At some point, it just wouldn't be possible, or at least feasible, to get him in the building. How many people are there out there for whom it isn’t a possibility to get into our church building?”
If John isn’t there and Katie has the kids by herself, the task doubles. Every parent realizes that raising a child truly takes a village, but relying on the villagers so often can feel like a burden in and of itself.
“We are so amazed and blessed and humbled by the help that we get. I just wish I didn’t have to ask for it every week,” Katie says. “I’m to the point where I can’t do it with the wheelchair on those steps every week. I just can’t. But I feel bad asking the strong, burly guys, too. I wish it didn’t have to be that way, but yet I want him to be with the other kids, because I think that’s where he belongs.”
During the week, Wendell has a nurse visit the family’s home in the Longfellow neighborhood of south Minneapolis to administer his medications, get him dressed and take him on the bus to Dowling elementary school. He joins an integrated third grade classroom for part of the school day, happy when some of the kids can read to him. He responds just as well on Sunday mornings during the children’s church time directed by Mai Larson.
“Wendell has this infectious smile, and that’s great to see. I’ve seen that up there when he’s a part of everything,” Katie says. “If he’s on an off day or just had a seizure he can be a little bit more hard to read, but I think what he does enjoy was just the interaction with everybody, the kids coming up to him and the songs that they sing. Wendell just enjoys being around people.”
Reaching the children’s ministry area, alas, requires the climbing of another set of stairs and finding another set of strong arms for the trek up. Opting out would always be easier, but that’s not the way the Sherman-Strands live their lives. They’ve taken many a family trip, including a month-long journey with a pop-up trailer through the western U.S. three summers ago.
“Wendell’s a part of our family,” Katie says, “so how can we make it work?”
Making the Aldrich building accessible, 107 years after the church was first planted on this corner of 35th and Aldrich in south Minneapolis, would make Sunday mornings much smoother for the Sherman-Strands, not to mention for others at Resurrection Mpls for whom climbing stairs is a difficult and dangerous endeavor. There are elderly members of the congregation who have been unable to attend for years, due to the absence of an elevator.
Nobody should be left out of the opportunity to worship God and share in the love of Jesus with His people because of cement steps. The inclusivity at Resurrection Mpls, rooted in the authenticity and history of Aldrich, was one of the reasons the Sherman-Strands started coming in the first place -- and kept coming despite Wendell’s disability.
“It feels very real. We have a whole wide range of political beliefs and personalities and interests and demographics, and I appreciate that, and I think everybody just seems so willing to help and meet people where they are in very practical meaningful ways,” Katie says.
That includes Wendell, their “divine mystery” of a son.
“We don’t really know what is going on with him much of the time. We don’t know exactly what he understands and feels, so we proceed on the assumption that he understands everything. We do know that there are certain things that make him smile almost always: things like certain poems, stories, and songs, being outside, being included on family activities, and physical touch,” John says. “I have often said that when we became aware of Wendell’s condition, it felt like a crushing blow, like something that was unsupportable and unendurable. Now it feels more like our life. It has just become our reality. No one that I know of would ever choose to have their child born with a condition like Wendell’s, but he is a great blessing to our family. He has made us see and experience the world in a way that we couldn't have without him.”