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Nurtured and Nurturing

We’ve covered the first five questions of seeker-oriented outreach:

1) How can we make sure that seekers know Quakers exist?

2) How can we help seekers find the local Quaker meeting?

3) How can we make it easy for seekers to decide to visit the meeting?

4) How can we make sure that the first visit helps seekers decide to come back?

5) How can we help new attenders to develop a sense of belonging?

Now, let’s take a look at the sixth and final question:

6) How can we provide long-term spiritual nurture to all of our members/attenders and create opportunities for each Friend to provide that long-term spiritual nurture to others?

When we consider outreach from the perspective of the seeker, the journey is not complete until we have reached this step. The new member of the meeting is fully integrated, which means not only receiving long-term spiritual nurture but working to provide that same spiritual nurture to others.

How will we know we’re doing this?

The meeting provides religious education opportunities for people of all ages. Meetings find a variety of ways of doing this. Some have religious education as a whole, often based in storytelling, with all ages working together to explore Quaker faith and practice. Others have regular First Day School for children and/or teens and a separate series for adult religious education.

In providing religious education—especially for adults—we often assume that those gathered have a stronger knowledge base than they actually do. If your meeting hasn’t talked within the last year about the basics—expectant listening in worship, individual and corporate discernment, why Quaker business process works the way it does, and how our faith guides our everyday lives—then it’s time to do it again.

Friends speak often about how their faith influences all areas of their daily lives. And speaking of how faith guides our everyday lives—there’s really no need to wait for religious education opportunities to have that conversation. Are Friends brave enough and safe enough during meeting gatherings to share their struggles with listening to God? Do we ask one another for prayers? Do we talk with one another about how Spirit influences our behavior at work, our choices at school, and our relationships with our neighbors? Do we tell each other about our spiritual practices, such as prayer, private worship, walks in the woods, or reading Scripture? Quakerism is an apprenticeship tradition, so speaking about these things on a regular basis is an important part of mutual spiritual nurture.

The meeting prioritizes meeting the needs of parents of young children. All Friends deserve our loving care, but I believe we can only be fully engaged in mutual spiritual nurture when we prioritize the needs of parents, because parenting may be the single most difficult and most vital ministry to which a person can be called.

Friends often say things like “if we nurture the parents, we nurture the kids.” That’s absolutely true. But we should also remember that parents are not only extensions of their children. They themselves are valuable and whole presences in our communities, and they themselves deserve particular attention and nurture during the years when they’re doing the extremely difficult work of raising kids.

Friends are familiar with each other’s gifts, and committee service is rooted in this. Many Friends’ meetings are beginning to recognize the importance of understanding spiritual gifts. Each of us has gifts—things we do uniquely well—and these gifts come from God and are to be used for the benefit of the broader community. In this way, we are designed to be mutually dependent.

Sometimes it can be hard to see others’ gifts. We might be so blinded by our frustration with someone (he never makes the coffee right!) that we can’t notice the wonderful things about them (he puts in too many coffee grinds because he’s distracted, listening to Friends who have gone to him for comfort. Hmm…maybe he should be serving on the pastoral care committee instead of the social hour committee?)

It can also be difficult to see our own gifts. The tasks we find particularly easy or joy-full are often strong indicators of spiritual gifts, but it can be tempting to undervalue our own contributions in those particular areas exactly because we find the task relatively easy or fun!

Meetings can tackle these problems by building a practice of intentionally noticing and affirming the spiritual gifts of one another and especially by emphasizing this in the work of nominating committees.

Children and teens are welcomed and supported as participants in meeting functions. Though we don’t always do it perfectly, we generally make the assumption that our eventual goal for adults is full participation in all meeting functions (to the degree that they are led). But sometimes we don’t think that way about children or teenagers. Sometimes we figure that as long as there’s a First Day School program—and as long as we tell the teens “you’re always welcome in meeting”—that the job there is through. Instead, I challenge us to assume that the goal for children and teens is also to be able to participate meaningfully in all meeting functions (to the degree that they are led)—social gatherings, committee meetings, business, worship, work days, and so forth.  We must provide the necessary support that makes this possible. (That’s not to say that there shouldn’t be separate programming for children and teens, but if a child or teen does feel led to participate with the broader community, this should always be a highly-supported option.)

This is the last of this series of blog entries. The seeker has proceeded from discovering that Quakers exist to finding a local meeting to deciding to visit to deciding to come back to developing a sense of belonging to becoming a fully integrated, nurtured-and-nurturing member of the meeting community. Only now can we say that the work of outreach to the seeker is complete.

Is your meeting doing these five things so that all Friends received long-term spiritual nurture to all of our members/attenders and create opportunities for each Friend to provide that long-term spiritual nurture to others? If not, might you personally feel called to step up in any of these ways?

And again for the gratitude challenge—I talked in the first blog of this series about the ways in which outreach has many parts and how each of us has gifts and callings to participate somewhere in the broader definition of outreach. Are there people in your meeting who provide religious education opportunities, speak about how their faith guides their everyday lives, meet the needs of parents, pay attention to Friends’ gifts, or welcome and support children and teens as full participants in the meeting? If so, can you set an intention for yourself to notice their work and thank them for their service sometime in the next week?

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A Sense of Belonging

We’ve covered the first four questions of seeker-oriented outreach:

1) How can we make sure that seekers know Quakers exist?

2) How can we help seekers find the local Quaker meeting?

3) How can we make it easy for seekers to decide to visit the meeting?

4) How can we make sure that the first visit helps seekers decide to come back?

Now, let’s take a look at the fifth question:

5) How can we help new attenders to develop a sense of belonging?

By “new attenders,” I’m talking about people who have been to the meeting at least a couple of times but haven’t been around for more than six months or so. It’s a critical time—the person has enough interest in the community to stick around but hasn’t gotten to the point of making a commitment yet. Spirit is working on them; we are, too, whether we know it or not.

It’s worth noting that for many of us, the definition of “outreach”—and the scope of outreach and advancement committees—generally ends here. The person has come through the door and has been welcomed, and now the next steps are the responsibility of somebody else—often a rather vaguely defined “somebody else.” But from the perspective of the seeker, the journey with Friends has barely begun. We are absolutely still introducing our community to the seeker, and the seeker to our community. We might as well do so with intention.

How can we help new attenders make the transition from “I’m a visitor here” to “I feel like I belong?”

 

Newcomers are invited to participate in formal or informal small groups. Sociological research tells us that it’s easier to enter a group in formation than it is to enter an established group. Established groups have unwritten rules and norms; it’s easy for the newcomer to accidentally sit in somebody else’s seat or bring the wrong thing for snack or ask questions at an inappropriate time, and for that reason, the newcomer feels awkward. A group—especially a small group—that is just being established is a lot easier to enter because the newcomer can be part of the creation of the social norms.

Ideally, even a small or medium-sized meeting would start some kind of new small group activity at least once a year—gardening groups, book clubs, Friendly Eights, parenting worship groups, neighborhood clean-up teams, just about anything. A large meeting might have multiple small groups running and start new ones every three to six months. There’s no reason why any small group activity needs to be considered permanent, and in fact, implied permanence makes it a lot harder to be agile as conditions change; start new groups with the expectation that they’ll last for a certain length of time (six months or a year) and then maybe continue, if there’s still a lot of excitement for it.

Committees can function as small groups for new attenders, but not easily. The work of a standing committee tends to be established, with little room for the new attender to be involved in inventing or re-inventing things. Working groups or task groups (relatively new and temporary by nature) might be better.

 

The whole meeting engages regularly in fun multigenerational activities. Some Quaker meetings do this very well, but for many of us, this is a challenge. “Multigenerational” sometimes ends up being interpreted as meaning “something for the little kids that the grown-ups tolerate.” And many times, adults without children simply don’t participate in any meeting activity where the primary purpose is fun. For some adults, games and singing and other types of silliness are pretty far out of the comfort zone.

The thing is, having fun together—especially fun that includes children, teens, young adults, middle-aged adults, and senior citizens—brings a community together in ways that nothing else does. For many people, social time is where trust-building happens. (If you’re someone who prefers serving on committees or participating in business meeting over unstructured social times, you’re probably someone who most naturally experiences trust-building by working together. It’s important to know that many people most naturally experience trust-building by playing together.)

Even neuroscience supports the idea of community play. Laughter stimulates chemicals in our brains that cause us to experience a feeling of bondedness to the people we laugh with.

If we are committed to being in deep, spiritual community, we need to ask ourselves whether that commitment includes the commitment to making time for fun.

 

Quaker jargon is explained briefly and clearly as it is used in all meeting activities. We’ve all had the experience of sitting through twenty minutes of announcements at the end of meeting. What we might not remember is what that experience is like when the twenty minutes of announcements are incomprehensible because they’re all in Quakerese. It can take practice to learn how to translate as we go along, but it’s important. The simple act of explaining what we’re talking about changes the feel of things from coded and exclusionary to inviting and open.

 

The meeting responds positively and supportively to newcomers’ suggestions. In other posts, I’ve used the term “permission-giving culture.” In other words, the default answer to newcomers’ ideas is “yes, and how can I help?” unless there is a compelling, Spirit-led reason to say otherwise. Newcomers develop a sense of belonging when their ideas are taken seriously and when they experience the power to make a difference in the community. This is newcomers of all ages, by the way—including teens and kids.

 

Worship is deep and holds a central place in the meeting, and all ages are welcome. For many meetings, worship absolutely holds a central place. But there are some meetings in which this can be questioned. Does your meeting have multiple Friends who serve on committees or lead activities but who are physically present in meeting for worship less than twice a month? If so, you might consider whether your meeting community as a whole is valuing worship as central to what you do together.

It’s also worth asking whether all ages—indeed, all Friends and seekers—are truly welcome, recalling that there’s a difference between “I am tolerated here” and “I belong here.” One of my favorite meeting rooms is in Ithaca, in central New York. There are probably over a hundred places to sit in the room, and no more than any two or three of them are the same. There are chairs of varying heights, chairs with backs and without, chairs with arms and without, short benches, long benches, benches with cushions and benches without, a gymnastics mat in a corner on the floor, and pillows and blankets stacked against the wall for anyone who needs to make their place softer or warmer. There’s a place for everyone (including squirmy sitters like me, with legs that are several inches too short to reach the floor in a standard chair).

It might not be possible for your meeting to build a space with a hundred different seats, but ask yourself—does our worship space have physical indications (variety of seats, blankets, soft baby toys, signs) that indicate that all are welcome in the space? Does our behavior (smiles of greeting, patience with normal baby noises, flexibility in meeting times, commitment to being present) reinforce the idea that meeting for worship is central to our meeting and open to all?

Is your meeting doing these five things to help new attenders to develop a sense of belonging? If not, might you personally feel called to step up in any of these ways?

And again for the gratitude challenge—I talked in the first blog of this series about the ways in which outreach has many parts and how each of us has gifts and callings to participate somewhere in the broader definition of outreach. Are there people in your meeting who organize small groups, who facilitate fun multigenerational activities, who explain Quaker jargon, who respond positively and supportively to new ideas, or who work toward helping worship be deep and open to all ages? If so, can you set an intention for yourself to notice their work and thank them for their service sometime in the next week?

Will They Come Back?

We’ve covered the first three questions of seeker-oriented outreach:

1) How can we make sure that seekers know Quakers exist?

2) How can we help seekers find the local Quaker meeting?

3) How can we make it easy for seekers to decide to visit the meeting?

Now, let’s take a look at the fourth question:

4) How can we make sure that the first visit helps seekers decide to come back?

Of course, we can’t really make sure that the first visit helps seekers decide to come back. We all know that ultimately, the decision to come back to another Quaker meeting is down to what Spirit does with someone during their first Quaker meeting. If it’s not the right spiritual home for someone, they probably won’t come back, at least not more than a few times. And we wouldn’t want them to.

But it is possible for us, as Quakers, to get in the way of someone coming back. There are ways in which we can be stumbling blocks, and there are ways in which we can greet seekers and offer the warmth and support they need to be able to come back—if it’s right for them.

I’d like to mention four specific ways in which we can offer this warmth and support.

Friends personally welcome visitors of all ages, warmly but not overwhelmingly. It’s a tricky balance. Some new visitors are extremely outgoing and would hope for lots of people to come up, check in, say hello, and offer welcome. Others are shy or uncertain and prefer to be greeted but then essentially left alone. What’s the “right” way to go about this?

One way is to choose greeters who are good at reading signals. Some of us are simply more gifted than others at reading body language and making people feel comfortable. If your meeting is small, this might be a function for the whole meeting, but you probably know which Friends are especially good at it—can you name those Friends and encourage them to continue doing the work, even informally?

It’s also important to have someone who’s comfortable greeting young people. Children should have their own greeting, and if the child is quite young, it’s helpful to bend down to be at eye level. Might it even be possible to ask a child or teen who is particularly good at befriending people to take responsibility for greeting and welcoming visiting children or teens?

The building contains dedicated (separate) spaces for children and for teens, and all ages mix in social times and worship times. There are a few meetings that meet in rental spaces where this is impossible, but most meetings can at least swing a couple of small dedicated spaces. Ideally, you need a space for children preschool age and younger, a space for elementary-age kids, and a space for teens, even if you don’t have any regularly attending Friends in these age ranges. There’s a real difference between “we don’t have any place for you, but we’re willing to make one” and “we have a place already prepared specifically for you.”

It’s important to visiting families, though, that the age spaces are flexible and that all age groups mix. Parents must be welcome in childcare areas, especially when young ones are first visiting, and it’s important that children are equally welcome in the worship space. (This welcome can be clearly indicated with signs—CHILDREN ARE WELCOME IN WORSHIP—and with physical resources to make worship easier for young ones, such as small chairs, soft toys, and mats to sit on the floor.) Finally, social hour should be organized so that the age groups mix easily, with play areas visible to parents and a space where teens can flow easily between the general gathering area and a place of their own.

Simple information about Quakerism is easy for visitors to find and take home. Almost all meetings have some version of take-home information, but somebody has to maintain this, even if the work of doing so isn’t glamorous. Are the stacks tidy? Do the handouts have a modern design, and does someone replenish the photocopies regularly? Are there coloring pages for children along with the materials for adults? Is it obvious which resources should remain at the meetinghouse and which can be taken home for free?

Friends follow up with visitors by phone or email within a few days of the first visit. Some visitors—especially shy ones—might find this kind of foll0w-up intimidating, but they tend to self-select. If visitors are invited and encouraged to write their contact information in a book, they will decide for themselves whether to offer an email address, a phone number, a mailing address, or none of the above. Within days, they should receive a friendly follow-up—“I’m so glad you came. Here are a couple of upcoming events you might want to know about . . . can I answer any questions for you?” This kind of contact makes a visitor feel seen.

Is your meeting doing these four things to help visitors decide to come back after a first visit? If not, might you personally feel called to step up in any of these ways?

And again for the gratitude challenge—I talked in the first blog of this series about the ways in which outreach has many parts and how each of us has gifts and callings to participate somewhere in the broader definition of outreach. Are there people in your meeting who make it a point to welcome visitors of all ages, who maintain dedicated spaces for young people, who make photocopies or straighten the piles for take-home information, or who follow up with visitors by phone or email? If so, can you set an intention for yourself to notice their work and thank them for their service sometime in the next week?

The Path to Visiting

So far in this series, I’ve covered the first two questions of seeker-oriented outreach:

1) How can we make sure that seekers know Quakers exist?

2) How can we help seekers find the local Quaker meeting?

Now, let’s take a look at the third question:

3) How can we make it easy for seekers to decide to visit the meeting?

This is the step in which the seeker, who has been considering the possibility of visiting the meeting, makes the mental shift from “maybe sometime” to “I’m going next Sunday.” This is a step that we never see, but it’s also a crucial turning point and a step that can be very difficult to take.

How can we make it just a little bit easier?

The meeting’s website is aesthetically appealing with photos of diverse people and contains clear, welcoming information about Quakerism, meeting times, and meeting locations. I said before that having a bare-bones website is better than not having a website at all, and that’s still true. If just having something is as much as you can manage, then by all means, do what you can manage. But when you can, go back to the website and punch it up a little. Start posting great photos. Add sections specifically for newcomers. If no one in your meeting has the necessary skills to build a website that is slick and modern, hire somebody. Especially for younger generations, a well-designed website is a sign of relevance to the modern world.

The meeting’s website and Facebook page are frequently updated, and messages are answered promptly. Make sure that someone in your meeting is committed to updating, updating, and updating. If possible, schedule between three and ten Facebook posts every week, with as many photos and videos included as possible—visual posts play much better than text-only on social media. For the website, change the events and announcements at least every two weeks, and once a week is better. This way, the potential visitor browsing your website can think, Oh, look—there’s a potluck three days from now. Maybe that’s the right time to give this a try. It also helps a lot if messages from potential visitors—whether they come in through the website, the Facebook page, or a phone number—are answered quickly, completely, and warmly.

Friends carry multi-age flyers/materials when they do service/witness in the community. This one will almost certainly take a couple of Friends working together, because the Friend who’s inclined to do service and witness activities in the community might not be the same Friend who’s inclined to produce and make photocopies of outreach materials. Let different Friends with different gifts work together to make sure that every time a Friend does a public event in the community, that Friend has take-home materials about the meeting at the ready for anyone who might be interested. It’s one thing for the potential visitor to attend a Friends’ activity in the local library and be intrigued; it’s another for that potential visitor to be able to carry home a pamphlet with the meetinghouse address on it and a page of Quaker stickers for his preschooler.

The meetinghouse is accessible to those with mobility challenges and is visibly intergenerational. The seeker who uses a wheelchair is very unlikely to decide to visit if she sees four steps leading up to the front door. Install ramps and smooth pathways to make the meetinghouse as physically accessible as possible. If you use microphones in meeting for worship, say so on your website so that those who have trouble hearing know that they’ll be able to participate. And if the meeting has children, make that obvious from the outside as well. A swing set or toddler slide in the yard indicates that you’re family-friendly. So does a banner hand-painted by kids.

Is your meeting doing these four things to help seekers find their local Quaker meeting? If not, might you personally feel called to step up in any of these ways?

One more time, the gratitude challenge. I talked in the first blog of this series about the ways in which outreach has many parts and how each of us has gifts and callings to participate somewhere in the broader definition of outreach. Are there people in your meeting who have designed and maintained a really amazing website, who update your Facebook page frequently, who carry Quaker materials into the community, or who have helped to make the meetinghouse more accessible and family-friendly? If so, can you make it a point to notice their work and thank them for their service sometime in the next week?

Helping Seekers Find Us

In my last blog entry, I covered the first question of seeker-oriented outreach:

1) How can we make sure that seekers know Quakers exist?

Now, let’s take a look at the second question:

2) How can we help seekers find their local Quaker meeting?

Most people, having decided ahead of time that they specifically want to attend a Quaker meeting, could probably manage to locate one that’s somewhere near them. Friends General Conference has a Quaker Finder on their website. Friends World Committee for Consultation keeps a pretty good list, too. And in many areas, Googling “Quakers near me” will come up with something.

But for many seekers, the journey might not be that straightforward. The person might Google “faith communities near me” or might have the idea of searching for a faith community in the back of their mind while going about their ordinary lives—running errands, dropping kids off at school, and scrolling through social media feeds. If we hope to reach seekers engaged in these less active and/or less specific searches, we’re going to have to step things up a little.

How do we know if we’re doing that?

The meeting has a website. You don’t have to have the Sistine Chapel of websites, but you do need something that can pop up in a Google search. A bare-bones website might include the name of your meeting; a couple of pictures; the physical address of the place of worship; time of worship; whether you have programs for infants, toddlers, kids, and teens; and an email address and/or phone number where people can ask for more information.

The meeting has a Facebook page and runs social media ads. The majority of people under the age of forty no longer use websites; instead, their exclusive source of information and communications is social media. Instagram, Twitter, and SnapChat are all popular, but Facebook has the largest user base by far, with 68% of people in the United States having a Facebook account and two thirds of those people checking Facebook every day. Your meeting absolutely needs a Facebook presence, and social media ads are a good idea too—not to mention incredibly inexpensive and a lot easier to manage than you might think.

The meetinghouse has clear signage, visible from the road. Some meetings have rental spaces and can’t manage this for that reason, but legal requirements are (in my opinion) the only good reason not to have clear, large signage. At a minimum, the sign should say the word Quaker and should list the worship time or times, and that much must be visible to a car driving by. In smaller print, you might list options for children. If yours is a welcoming and affirming congregation, that’s good to put on your sign, too.

Friends do regular service and witness in the neighborhood community, outside the meetinghouse walls. Again, this is something that I’ve talked about in the past. It’s a huge part of expanding our definition of outreach. If those living in our communities never see us except when we’re walking in and out of our place of worship, then we give the impression of being insular and self-involved, no matter how much service and witness we might be doing in the broader world. Do we show up for community functions like parades and street fairs? Do we throw fundraisers for local schools, community centers, and food pantries? Do we clean up public parks or gardens? And do we do these things while wearing T-shirts, hats, or buttons that say QUAKER?

Is your meeting doing these four things to help seekers find their local Quaker meeting? If not, might you personally feel called to step up in any of these ways?

I’d like to offer one more challenge, too. I talked in the first blog of this series about the ways in which outreach has many parts and how each of us has gifts and callings to participate somewhere in the broader definition of outreach. Are there people in your meeting who created the meeting website, who maintain the meeting’s social media presence, who ordered/designed the signage, or who do regular service and witness in the neighborhood community? If so, can you make it a point to notice their work and thank them for their service sometime in the next week?

Being Visible

When we look at outreach from the seeker’s perspective, the first step is, “I know that Quakers exist.” This is no small thing. A fair portion of the world genuinely believes that we are extinct; this includes a number of history teachers and, apparently, Snapple. (A few years ago, Snapple printed a “fact” on their bottle caps that read, By 1900, there were no more Quakers, a once dominant group on Nantucket.)

One of our problems is that there aren’t very many of us. Estimates indicate that there are around 400,000 Quakers in the world today. (We’re not so good at standing still to be counted.) In a world of eight billion people, that’s .005% of the world’s population. For every person in the world to personally know a Quaker, we’d each have to go make 20,000 friends. That might be ever-so-slightly out of reach.

But here’s what we can do: we can be visible. Unlike some other religions, Quakers are not instantly recognizable. (Well, most Quakers aren’t—there are still a few of us who dress Plain.) This isn’t about public evangelism; it’s just about public visibility. It’s about showing a human being (ourselves), labeled “Quaker” in some way.

I do it with a bracelet. I wear a black rubber bracelet that says Quaker every time I leave the house. Never yet has anyone asked me about it, but occasionally I catch people staring at it in the grocery store line or on the subway. And I figure that once they’ve seen it, that’s enough—that’s the goal. Now this person knows that there are people today who call themselves Quakers.

These bracelets aren’t sold anywhere, as far as I know. I ordered two hundred of them last August, and I’ve been giving them away to other Quakers, everywhere I go, for a year. I recently ran out—hooray! More are coming.

If a bracelet’s not your style, there are other ways to make this happen. Last spring, my friend Jennifer Swann and I co-facilitated an outreach workshop, and we asked participants to come up with a list of ways to be visibly Quaker. Here’s some of what they suggested:

– Quaker swag (bracelets, hats, T-shirts)

– Bumper stickers

– Social media posts and Quaker memes shared on your personal social media accounts

– A Quaker quotation in the signature of your emails

– Quaker yard sign

– Quaker books on your bookshelves at your office

– Not avoiding the word “Quaker” when it comes up naturally in conversations

That last one deserves a little explanation. What we meant was a scenario like this:

NEIGHBOR: Hey, how you doing?

QUAKER: Good. How are you?

NEIGHBOR: Oh, great. You got plans for the weekend?

QUAKER: Yeah. I’m going to a conference.

NEIGHBOR: Cool. Have a great time.

Now, let’s add one extra word:

NEIGHBOR: Hey, how you doing?

QUAKER: Good. How are you?

NEIGHBOR: Oh, great. You got plans for the weekend?

QUAKER: Yeah. I’m going to a Quaker conference.

NEIGHBOR: Cool. Have a great time.

Did you see it? Chances are good that adding that one word isn’t actually going to change the flow of the conversation—although it could, if the person was curious and decided to follow up, and that might not be a bad thing. But really, the only difference is, the neighbor now knows you’re a Quaker. Before, the neighbor might not have known that. It’s not about evangelizing. It’s just about making sure the neighbor knows that Quakers are a thing.

In what other ways can we be visible as Quakers?

From Seeker to Quaker

I started seeking a faith community when I was ten years old. I knew exactly what I was looking for. I knew because I knew God; I knew God as a loving being who was beyond requiring specific ceremonies, who spoke to all His children directly, and who grieved when He saw any of His children in pain. (I was also pretty sure that God wasn’t literally male, but it helped me to think of Him with a gender, and I didn’t think He’d mind.)

It took me seventeen years to find Quakers.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know Quakers existed. It’s just that I thought they were something like the Amish. Quakers aren’t out there in theological circles—or, for that matter, in popular culture. We’re out there in the peace activism world, but I wasn’t a peace activist, so I didn’t find us. I can remember many times, especially once I’d graduated from college and become a full-fledged adult, when I wept because I was convinced that I would never find my faith community, that I would simply be alone in my journey with God.

When I finally did come to Quakers, it was a matter of desperation. I’d tried everything else! So even if Quakers did turn out to be Amish, what did I have to lose?

The first meeting I went to was entirely silent, which frankly annoyed me because I didn’t know anything more after the first meeting than I did before it. In the second meeting, someone stood up and quoted George Fox: “There is that of God in everyone.” And that was it. I knew I was home.

In time, what started as overwhelming gratitude (I’ve found you!) turned into serious anger (Where the heck have you been?) and, now, hope (We can do better. We can make sure nobody else ever has to search for us for seventeen years.)

Now, here’s the thing about outreach:

It is everybody’s job.

That’s the kind of statement that always gets some resistance, mostly because we recognize as Friends that we all have different gifts and that not all of us all called to the same things. And this is most certainly true. But outreach isn’t about a single thing. When we try to pull it out—make it the work of a particular committee or define it as a short list of tasks—we end up talking about a small piece of outreach but not actually the entire picture.

Let’s see what happens if turn the question inside out, so it’s not “How do we do outreach?” but instead, “What is the path of the seeker?” What has to happen for the seeker in order to get from person looking for a faith community to integrated member of a Quaker meeting with a strong sense of belonging and purpose?

I think there are six basic steps:

1) I know that Quakers exist.

2) I have found a Quaker meeting in my area.

3) I have decided to visit the meeting.

4) I have visited the meeting and have decided to come back.

5) I have developed a sense of belonging in the first few months of attending.

6) I am experiencing long-term spiritual nurture, and I’m providing this nurture to others as well.

Now the questions for Friends become:

1) How can we make sure that seekers know Quakers exist?

2) How can we help seekers find our local Quaker meeting?

3) How can we make it easy for seekers to decide to visit the meeting?

4) How can we make sure that the first visit helps seekers decide to come back?

5) How can we help new attenders to develop a sense of belonging?

6) How can we provide long-term spiritual nurture to all of our members/attenders and create opportunities for each Friend to provide that long-term spiritual nurture to others?

This is why outreach is everybody’s job. All of us have gifts directly related to at least one of those six steps.

In the next few weeks, my intention is to write about each of these six steps and the various tasks associated with them, as well as to emphasize the ways in which each of us plays a part in this work.

Can you immediately see where your own gifts are in this sequence?

Does it raise up other thoughts or questions?

The Unconditional Yes: A Conversation with God in Many, Many Parts

[Scene One]

Do you trust Me?

Yes.

Do you trust Me?

Of course.

Do you really trust Me?

Okay, I said yes, but now You’re starting to make me nervous.

Will you follow Me?

Where?

Will you follow Me?

Where?

Will you follow Me?

Seriously, I could use some more information.

Okay. I’ll wait. I love you.

 

[Scene Two]

Do you trust Me?

We’ve had this conversation before.

Do you trust Me?

Why do you keep asking me this?

Do you trust Me?

This is freaking me out.

Do you trust Me?

…Yes.

Good. I love you.

 

[Scene Three]

Do you trust Me?

I do. I really do.

Will you follow Me?

Yes. I will.

I love you.

 

[Scene Four]

I need you to do a thing.

What thing?

This thing…

Wait. What?

I know you heard Me.

You’ve made a mistake.

I don’t think so.

I’m not ready for that.

Okay. I’ll wait. I love you.

 

[Scene Five]

Are you doing the thing?

Shhh. I’m pretending You never said anything.

Okay. I love you.

 

[Scene Six]

Are you doing the thing?

No.

Huh. That’s interesting.

I’m not doing the thing.

I know. You just said that.

I’m not doing the thing.

I know. I’m listening.

I can’t do the thing.

…Really?

I can’t do the thing.

Are you sure?

I’m scared to do the thing.

There you go.

Help.

I’m right here. I love you.

 

[Scene Seven]

Hey, look at you! You’re doing the thing!

I know.

How’s it going?

It’s somewhat less horrible than I thought it would be.

I’m proud of you.

Thanks.

I love you.

 

[Scene Eight]

Um…

I’m here.

I screwed up the thing.

I know. I still love you every bit as much.

 

[Scene Nine]

I did the thing!

I know! I saw you!

I did the thing!

Yes, you did! Good job!

That was incredible! That was amazing! I mean, it was really hard, but You helped, and I did it, and now I see that—

I need you to do another thing.

What?

I said I need you to do another thing.

What thing? I just did a thing.

Yes, and now I need you to do another thing.

Well, that’s no fair.

We never talked about “fair.”

…what’s the thing?

This thing…

You’ve got to be kidding!

No, seriously.

I can’t do that thing!

You’re right.

No, I’m literally incapable of doing that thing.

That’s true.

You’re not making very much sense.

I’m going to change you.

Change me?

I’m going to change you, so you can do the thing.

Well…holy crap. That’s not what I expected you to say.

I love you so much.

I love you, too.

 

[Scene Ten]

Hey, just checking in.

Hi.

I love you.

Love you, too.

 

[Scene Eleven]

This is scary! This is so scary! What the heck is happening? Everything’s falling apart! Where are you? Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop! Too much! Too much! Say something! Say something!

I’m changing you. So you can do the thing.

Well, I don’t like it! This is the worst experience of my life!

(weeping)

Please stop it?

I love you.

You’re not acting like it.

 

[Scene Twelve]

I love you.

I’m not speaking to You right now.

Okay.

 

[Scene Thirteen]

Are You still there?

Yes. And I love you.

Okay.

 

[Scene Fourteen]

Wow. That’s a pretty tree.

Thanks.

I’m still mad at you.

Okay.

Is the changing me part over yet?

Not yet.

It’s taking too long.

I know. I love you.

 

[Scene Fifteen]

You’re ready to do the thing.

I know. That happened fast.

You’re going to have to change more later.

I’m going to pretend You didn’t say that, okay?

Have you noticed you’re already doing the thing?

I’m not doing the—oh, wait! You’re right! I already started!

Also, while you’re working on that, I need you to do these other six things.

Is this all written down someplace? Could you send me an email with a Power Point?

I love you so much.

I love you, too.

 

[Scene Sixteen]

Hey, this is fun!

I love to hear you say that.

 

[Scene Seventeen]

Something awful just happened.

I know. I saw.

Is this another changing part?

Sometimes awful things just happen.

Will you make it go away, please?

I’m so sorry. Not this time.

But it tears me apart when people I love are hurting.

Me too. And I really love you.

 

[Scene Eighteen]

How are you doing?

That’s a hard question to answer. I’m inside out and upside down…and I’ve been through things that are harder than I ever thought I’d face…and I’ve done things I never thought I’d ever be able to do…and miracles have happened…and I’m tired but I’m also totally exhilarated. And I’m trying to explain what happened to other people but a lot of them don’t seem to understand.

What do you think happened?

…I’m not sure.

You said you would follow Me.

I barely remember that. Didn’t I say that back in Scene Three?

You said you would follow Me.

I didn’t know you meant all THIS!

I couldn’t tell you everything. You wouldn’t have understood.

You barely told me anything.

I told you as much as I could.

This is the weirdest journey ever.

That’s definitely true.

Also the best.

I’m so glad you think so.

It’s not over, is it?

Not even close. Will you do another thing for me?

Yes.

Getting Ourselves Together

This is the tenth of a series of ten blogs about ten cultural flips for multiage inclusion. It’s not enough to shift our culture. We really have to flip it.

 

Cultural Barrier #10: Consistent physical separation of age groups

Why is this a barrier to multiage inclusion?

When I wonder aloud about the physical separation of age groups among Friends—why our children are almost always in one space, our teens in another, our young adults in a third, and everyone else in a fourth—I tend to get one of two answers.

The first answer I get is, “Young people don’t want to be with the adults.” I’d say that this is partly true. Children and teens especially, though sometimes young adults as well, often don’t want to be in the traditionally adult spaces, but I’m not sure it’s because the people in those spaces are adults. I suspect it has a lot more to do with the culture we perpetuate there, a culture that leaves younger people out (because there’s very little play, a bunch of Quaker terms and other words that they don’t understand, a complicated set of rules that’s difficult to figure out, and a failure to rethink how we do things).

It’s worth noting that I almost never hear, “Older people don’t want the younger kids to be with them” or “Older people don’t want to go into the traditionally young-person spaces.” Both of these statements are often true, but we almost never say them out loud. Everything about the way that we age-segregate implies that the space for older adults is the “normal” space, and the spaces for younger people are the special spaces that we create because we are tolerant of the special needs of younger people. This attitude shows up in the way our schedules are written (with stuff for older adults in the main schedule, and notes or addendums being used to show where the younger people will be) and in the way we talk about and organize ourselves (with special committees and working groups for the programs for younger people, but no corresponding special committee or working group for the programs for older people, since that part of the work is done by whatever group is in charge of the program as a whole).

The second common answer to the question, “Why do we physically separate our age groups?” is considerably more meaty and, in my opinion, more meaningful. It has to do with the argument that setting up gatherings for young people only allows young people’s voices to be heard and their concerns addressed.  This is a lot like the separate women’s business meetings in the early days of Quakerism. Back then, segregating women allowed women to have a voice in a way that they could not have if men and women met together, simply because both men and women were trained by the culture they lived in to believe that, and behave as though, women’s voices were less important than men’s. Physically separating the women allowed the women to speak without being squished, intentionally or unintentionally, by either the men or by the women’s own hesitation to speak up in mixed-gender groups.

There’s a lot of value in this argument. A number of times, teens have actually told me, “You can’t have that meeting with all the ages together…none of the teens will talk because it’s too intimidating.” And when teens tell me this, I try to listen and respond accordingly.

With young adults, though, my usual reaction is to try to push them—“You are as much a part of this body as the older Friends are, and your voice should be present in exactly the same way.” Is it genuinely harder for younger adults to speak up in mixed age groups because of the cultural barriers we have to overcome? Yes. Are we speaking through a veil of others’ assumptions about our groundedness, our level of experience, and our ability to understand the situation at hand? Absolutely. But that’s never going to change if we don’t show up in mixed-age groups and keep speaking.

What I try to bear in mind about the women’s meetings analogy is three-fold.

First, the women’s meetings would never have been necessary if Friends’ perspectives weren’t influenced by the culture around them—a culture that said that women were “less than.” Friends might have recognized and stated that Christ could speak through women as readily as through men, but they also recognized their own limitations in being able to reflect that truth in their behavior. Similarly, we must recognize and state that Christ can speak through young people as readily as through older people, and we must recognize our own limitations in being able to reflect that truth in our behavior.

Second, the women’s meetings didn’t last forever. At a certain point in our history, we collectively recognized that we were ready to desegregate our women and our men, and we did so. This did not actually mean that we had all fully gotten to the point of recognizing women and men as absolute equals despite the culture in which we lived (although we sometimes pretend that we’re there, and we’re not). But it did mean that we recognized that we had gotten to the point where segregating the women and the men was causing more harm than good for the body as a whole.

Because—and this is the third point—being segregated in any fashion does cause all of us harm. Sometimes segregation is temporarily necessary for the sake of moving toward genuine equality, but I don’t believe it’s ever the best permanent state. When we are not physically in the same spaces, we don’t know each other. We miss opportunities to hear each other. We miss opportunities to love each other.

Being segregated also means that we have to provide some kind of way for each group to have an official voice in the whole. In the days of the women’s and men’s meetings—and this is just one example—women wrote and approved travel minutes and then sent them to the men’s meetings for final approval. In one yearly meeting I know, the adult yearly meeting recognizes the young adult group, the high school group, and the middle school group as other yearly meetings that are gathered at the same time, and those yearly meetings can send minutes to the gathered adult body.

In one way, that approach is great. Younger Friends have actual, official channels by which to be heard. In many other yearly meetings, no such official channels exist (or, if they do, they are little-known), so younger Friends either have no way to be heard or don’t know that they have a way to be heard. But in another way, we have to acknowledge that as long as the younger groups have to submit minutes to the older groups—and not the other way around—we are reinforcing the idea that the older group is dominant and the younger groups are “less than.”

Just to recap, because this has gotten long: although age segregation sometimes has real benefits, there are also a number of ways in which physical segregation of age groups is a barrier to multiage inclusion. It reinforces patterns in which older Friends make the decisions for all Friends without input from the younger age groups; it allows us to tell ourselves that by segregating the age groups we’re doing our younger people a favor; it prevents us from knowing one another across the generations; and it perpetuates the idea among all age groups that young people are “less than.” Age segregation also leads to siloing, which leads to younger Friends struggling to gain the necessary knowledge base to participate fully in the adult body when they come of age.

 

Culture Flip #10: Aiming for multi-age inclusion around 50% of the time, including integration both ways (younger Friends in traditionally older Friends spaces/activities, older Friends in traditionally younger Friends spaces/activities); providing meaningful support to make full participation possible in both directions

What does this look like in a monthly meeting?

I’m not prepared to advocate for an end to all age segregation among Friends. We aren’t ready for that. We don’t have the skills—not the younger Friends, and not the older Friends. Trying to be together across all ages all the time immediately would, I suspect, lead to resentment on all sides.

However, I suspect we’re ready to take some steps in that direction. What would happen if we set a goal to be completely age-integrated 50% of the time? Individual monthly meetings could figure out which 50% that would be. Age-ages worship two Sundays per month? All-ages Meeting for Business every other month? Monthly post-meeting child-led all-ages playtime? Monthly teen-led all-ages worship sharing or discussion? Could half of the meeting’s committees be completely age-integrated?

We have to do this skillfully, though. Age integration without support is symbolic at best and harmful at worst.

In a recent gathering, I asked the question, “What would a seven-year-old need to be present in business meeting and to be able to be a full participant?”

We made the following list:

– Snacks

– Coloring book

– Pillows on the floor

– Permission to move around

– Periodic breaks

– A whisper buddy (somebody to explain things as the meeting went along)

– Priority calling-on (so that, if five people were wanting to speak, the seven-year-old could go first so that she didn’t forget what she needed to say)

This does not strike me as insurmountable. And frankly, I’d be grateful as a thirty-four-year-old for a few of those accommodations myself.

Then I asked the question, “What would a seventy-year-old need to be present in a finger-painting activity and to be able to be a full participant?” Because we don’t tend to ask this question, and really, it’s no less relevant to multiage inclusion. Failing to ask it implies that older people are fully capable of functioning in younger-person spaces, which is not always true, and this leads to a lot of hesitation on the part of many older Friends to even try to enter traditionally-younger-person spaces. It also implies that age integration only needs to go one way, which places a considerable burden on the already-less-empowered younger people.

This is the list we made, in terms of support for the older Friend in the finger-painting space:

– Clear instructions or ideas on what to paint (because many adults are uncomfortable with being asked to create art without specific guidance)

– A chair and table that is comfortable for an adult body

– A room that isn’t too loud or chaotic

– An assigned young person “buddy” (so that it’s easier to know how to connect with the younger Friends in the room)

– Permission to use a brush or sponge if that is easier than finger-painting

And these accommodations, too, do not strike me as insurmountable. Our young people can understand things like, “It’s hard for some older Friends when everybody talks at once, so it will be very helpful if we take turns talking.” We might have to repeat this a number of times, but we can get there.

To reemphasize something I’ve already hinted at—age integration does not and cannot mean just younger people moving into traditionally-older-person spaces, even if we’re prepared to adapt and provide support. Doing it that way implies that “normal” is what the older people do and that we make special allowances and adaptations for younger people because they aren’t capable of what’s “normal.” And this is the whole point of flipping our culture; it’s about redefining “normal” as something that’s inclusive, not exclusive. When we age-integrate our spaces in both directions, meaning older-in-younger as well as younger-in-older, we redefine “normal” as what all of us do, and we define age integration as all of us learning how to participate in all the parts of normal, and all of us learning how to help each other do that.

We can reflect this attitude in many different ways. A good starting point—something that’s relevant to many meetings—is the reporting back that we do after times when we are age-segregated. Why do we ask for a report of what First Day School has been doing but then fail to have an adult person stand up and report on what happened in Meeting for Worship? Why do we ask our young people to write separate epistles and read them to the body when the epistle of the older people is represented as being from the entire body to the entire world?

This is the last of the multiage inclusion series on this blog. Starting with the next post, I’ll be moving back into more general engagement with how Friends function as the beloved community. What are you left wondering about? What have I missed?

 

The Cultural Barrier The Flip!
Perception that Friends’ meetings are internally focused and irrelevant Doing frequent work and service in neighborhood communities outside the meetinghouse walls
Equating seriousness with sacredness Behaving as though joy and gratitude are as holy as struggle and lamentation, including 50/50 time division for the whole meeting between play together and work together
Frequent use of Quaker terminology without context Practicing brief, clear explanations and contextualization of all terms and references to institutional structure, every time, in the moment, as we go
Communicating solely through paper publications and websites Developing a meaningful presence on social media (for internal communications and outreach)
Idolatry of Quaker process Building a permission-giving culture (the default answer is ‘yes, and how can I help?’ unless there is a strong, Spirit-led reason to hesitate)
Valuing traditions over the needs of living Friends Regularly reexamining physical facilities, procedures, and practices in the light of how they are working for our communities today; recognizing the difference between our Spirit-led testimonies (which are eternal) and how we express those testimonies (which may need to change as circumstances change)
High financial cost of participation in gatherings Shifting to pay-as-led pricing; changing locations and structures of gatherings so the actual cost is lower
High reading level (high school and above) of almost all of Friends’ written materials Using shorter sentences and simpler vocabulary in all documents
Isolation of parents (among Friends and in society in general) Providing childcare at all meeting events without exception; prioritizing spiritual and practical nurture of parents
Consistent physical separation of age groups Aiming for multi-age inclusion around 50% of the time, including integration both ways (younger Friends in traditionally older Friends spaces/activities, older Friends in traditionally younger Friends spaces/activities); providing meaningful support to make full participation possible in both directions

 

Nurturing Parents

This is the ninth of a series of ten blogs about ten cultural flips for multiage inclusion. It’s not enough to shift our culture. We really have to flip it.

 

Cultural Barrier #9: Isolation of parents (among Friends and in society in general)

Why is this a barrier to multiage inclusion?

I’m not a parent, but many people my age are, and I try to make a habit of listening to them. One of the things I hear most often is regret about isolation. In today’s society—at least, in the United States—parents and their young children (or teens) live in houses that usually hold only two generations, and in these houses, the parents and children are physically separated from their neighbors. It’s a far cry from how we lived a few thousand years ago, when we lived in caves with our neighbors just one fire over—or even a few hundred years ago, when children, parents, and grandparents often shared a single home. Parents are pretty much on their own. They might be connected to other parents by social media, by phone, and by story hour at the local library, but when the baby’s screaming at two o’clock in the morning—or when the teenager comes home after midnight and has been drinking—there’s no grandparent or neighbor physically present to lend a hand.

This is not significantly different when we look at the Religious Society of Friends. During Meeting for Worship, parents of young children often find themselves teaching First Day School or spending the time in childcare. In many meetings, parents of young children can’t participate in the business of the meeting, in committee work, or in adult religious education groups because childcare isn’t available. There are few or no opportunities for Quaker parents to talk about parenting with other Quaker parents. So in a way, the Quaker meeting becomes—rather than a source of spiritual nourishment and support—just one more thing for busy parents to try to fit into their schedules, either for the sake of their children’s spiritual nurture or simply because they have “always been Quakers.”

Parenting may be the single most difficult and most vital ministry to which a person can be called. Why don’t we treat it that way?

I often hear people say things like “if we nurture the parents, we nurture the kids.” That’s absolutely true, and it is a multi-age inclusion argument. I’m on board with that. But I’d also like us to remember that parents are not only extensions of their children. They themselves are valuable and whole presences in our communities, and they themselves deserve particular attention and nurture during the years when they’re doing the extremely difficult work – the ministry – of raising kids.

 

Culture Flip #9: Providing childcare at all meeting events without exception; prioritizing spiritual and practical nurture of parents

What does this look like in a monthly meeting?

I’d like to start with childcare. To me, we should never be asking the question, “Are we going to provide childcare?” Instead, I’d suggest the question, “How are we going to provide childcare?” Do we need to step up our donations so that we can hire a paid person to take on this role? Or do we need to set up some kind of rotation-based system so that we all provide childcare, so that parents do not have to fill this role themselves instead of participating in meeting activities? Or do we need to find a third option?

Sometimes Friends say: Childcare isn’t enough. There should be meaningful programming for children. Well, yes. Ideally, there should, and many meetings are working on this. But to me, using this statement as an argument against childcare is akin to saying, “The roof really needs to be replaced entirely, so we shouldn’t put a bucket under the leak.” Let’s start with doing everything we can right now, and we’ll move forward from there.

Sometimes Friends say: When I was young, I hired my own baby-sitter for my kids when I went to meeting functions, and that was fine. I’m genuinely grateful that these Friends were able to do that. For many, financially or logistically, it is not an option. It’s akin to saying, “There are buckets around someplace. If the roof is leaking on you, find a bucket. That’s what I’ve always done.” Possibly true, but not very welcoming or loving.

Sometimes Friends say: It’s just part of the natural cycle that parents can’t do as much when they have young children. We need to understand that people will sort of disappear from most meeting activities for awhile. They’ll come back when they can. There’s nothing we can do about the fact that parents are busy and tired. It’s true that parents are busy and tired.  But there’s a difference between the parent who can’t come to a meeting function because she’s busy and tired and the parent who can’t come to a meeting function because there’s no one to care for her kids.  One of those is out of our control; the other is not.  It’s a cop-out to say that because we can’t solve every problem in its entirety, we can just sit back and accept the fact that things are hard. It’s like saying, “We can’t stop the rain, so we might as well not worry about the roof.”

So here’s my point – childcare should be assumed. No parent should ever have to ask, before coming to a Quaker function, “What will I do with my kids?” In those rare cases when childcare is not provided, Friends should expect to welcome the presence of young children in the room while the meeting or activity is happening, and we should be prepared for whatever noise or physical disruption that may come with that. Having soft toys, coloring books, snacks, and a few pillows in the room will probably help.

Childcare alone, though, isn’t enough. As I said earlier, parenting is a ministry—a vital and difficult one—and should be supported in the same ways that Friends ideally support other ministries. Parents need regular spiritual care. They need someone looking out for their temporal needs. And they need the opportunity to have time with their peers.

Spiritual care . . . do we provide interactive religious education opportunities for parents so that they may learn and grow? Do we pray for the parents in our meetings? Do we have and use queries about parenting as a ministry?

Temporal needs . . . do we check with parents and ask them how they are doing? Do we provide snacks at meeting events that are healthy and tasty for those who might be coming straight from dropping kids off at afternoon or weekend activities? Do we offer to watch someone’s children for a few hours so that they can take a nap? Do we notice and offer assistance when a parent seems to be struggling?

Time with their peers . . . do we give parents lots of opportunities to speak with other parents, either those currently raising children or those who have done so in the past? Are we open to parents expressing their frustrations? Do we listen, or are we quick to start giving advice? In my own yearly meeting, we’ve started establishing Quaker Family Meet-ups for clusters of several meetings. It’s a simple recipe—worship sharing for parents (who can attend with or without their kids), childcare in another space, and snacks for everybody.  We’re also working on a series of evening conversations for parents through video conferencing.

How else can we Friends prioritize the nurture of parents?

 

The Cultural Barrier The Flip!
Perception that Friends’ meetings are internally focused and irrelevant Doing frequent work and service in neighborhood communities outside the meetinghouse walls
Equating seriousness with sacredness Behaving as though joy and gratitude are as holy as struggle and lamentation, including 50/50 time division for the whole meeting between play together and work together
Frequent use of Quaker terminology without context Practicing brief, clear explanations and contextualization of all terms and references to institutional structure, every time, in the moment, as we go
Communicating solely through paper publications and websites Developing a meaningful presence on social media (for internal communications and outreach)
Idolatry of Quaker process Building a permission-giving culture (the default answer is ‘yes, and how can I help?’ unless there is a strong, Spirit-led reason to hesitate)
Valuing traditions over the needs of living Friends Regularly reexamining physical facilities, procedures, and practices in the light of how they are working for our communities today; recognizing the difference between our Spirit-led testimonies (which are eternal) and how we express those testimonies (which may need to change as circumstances change)
High financial cost of participation in gatherings Shifting to pay-as-led pricing; changing locations and structures of gatherings so the actual cost is lower
High reading level (high school and above) of almost all of Friends’ written materials Using shorter sentences and simpler vocabulary in all documents
Isolation of parents (among Friends and in society in general) Providing childcare at all meeting events without exception; prioritizing spiritual and practical nurture of parents
Consistent physical separation of age groups Aiming for multi-age inclusion around 50% of the time, including integration both ways (younger Friends in traditionally older Friends spaces/activities, older Friends in traditionally younger Friends spaces/activities); providing meaningful support to make full participation possible in both directions