Editor’s Note: In 2011, Janie Starr and Juli Goetz Morser started a series called On the Verge, putting a face on the growing number of Islanders barely getting by. They began with a focus on community members about to lose their home or job, on the verge of becoming homeless or going hungry. The series has since evolved into a deeper and more expansive understanding of what sets someone apart, what makes one an outsider. For some it might be ethnicity or language, for others a child with special needs. Regardless of the barrier, what matters is to support those in need and to recognize their gifts. Community organizations such as the Interfaith Council to Prevent Homelessness, Vashon Youth & Family Services, Vashon HouseHold, the Vashon Maury Community Food Bank and Welcome Vashon have played a role in shifting people toward finding a place at the community table.

Raven Pyle-McCrackyn joined me for coffee at Minglement one gray afternoon in December. She walked over from the office building next door where she works as an accountant for Williams + Callan. Before setting her cup down at my table, Raven stopped to greet several people. My first impression was of a woman who makes a strong connection with others. As the interview progressed, that first impression began to make sense. The words connection and community peppered many of Raven’s answers. By the end, it became clear they were at the heart of her story.

Fourteen years ago Raven, who was living in Seattle with her partner Mark Frey-McCrackyn, thoughtfully and deliberately investigated 40 to 50 towns in the Puget Sound area, searching for a community to join. Having grown up in a small town in Iowa, Raven knew what she wanted. After a visit to Vashon, Raven chose the Island as the place to plant her adult roots. She liked the books in the library, the children’s artwork in the schools and the childcare swapping that is de rigueur here. Vashon seemed to be a vibrant community and a fine place to raise a child, so she and Mark relocated to the Island.

Soon Raven was teaching drama at the Blue Heron and directing the Unitarian Church Sunday School program. “I felt that in order to be involved in a community,” Raven said, “you needed to work or live there, and I wanted to get a head start.”

Everything fell into place to support Raven’s vision of community until 2003, two years after the birth of their child, James. The couple joined parent/baby groups and signed James up for the Vashon Maury Cooperative Preschool. James, however, wasn’t interested in parallel play. He never made friends. Then came the diagnosis that forced Raven and Mark onto a whole new path, different and separate from the other families. James was severely autistic. While most parents imagine their child growing up to lead an independent life, Raven and Mark wondered if their son would ever be able to leave the house. “When you have a special needs child,” explained Raven, “it is a pretty isolating experience.”

Raven’s dream of play dates evaporated. She made close friends with James’ caregivers, but they were also the people she paid. Though she and Mark made a great team, they had to watch their son, no matter his age, as if he were a toddler, and that prevented them from attending social events. Rather than living in community, Raven found herself and her family skirting the edges.

Raven worked hard to “mainstream” her son, eventually enrolling James in the multi-age program at Chautauqua Elementary School. Because James also needed speech and occupational therapy in Seattle five days a week, logistics became a nightmare for Raven and Mark, and they soon realized that their support network was mostly off-Island. That’s when a group of Island therapists and educators stepped in.

Dan Kaufman, Paula Herrington, Erin Kenny, Sheri Hamlow, Mimi Walker and Lee Ockinga met once a month on a volunteer basis to brainstorm ways to integrate the family into Island life. Raven recollected how the group encouraged them to reach out to others, to recognize that she and Mark were not the only ones who loved James, and understand that being with James offered more than hardship. Raven credits Kaufman for opening her eyes to how families with disabilities often disengage with others. “James doesn’t have the problem,” she admitted, “he feels pretty connected. I’m the one with the problem.”

Because of his lifelong commitment to include families with disabilities in the community, Kaufman sought other Islanders who might engage in a broader conversation about connecting and welcoming. Bruce Anderson, Janie Starr and others explored these concepts, eventually creating the initiative called Welcome Vashon.

Raven became involved with Welcome Vashon and was encouraged to work on behalf of families with disabled children. And so began her journey back into community. As she moved from being “on the verge” to a position of belonging, Raven also realized that James is only part of the story. “All of us have chosen to live on the Island, and that is something huge that we all have in common,” she said. “However we got here, there was a reason. So regardless of what makes you different, somewhere there is common ground. Trying to find one’s voice to speak to that has been a powerful challenge.”

Several months ago, Raven experienced what it takes to expose one’s challenge to the community. At a Unitarian Fellowship meeting in October, when the harpist stopped playing in preparation for the minister’s lecture, James threw a loud and inconsolable fit. Before that day, Raven would have quickly ushered James out the door. This time she stayed. The congregation remained supportive, and the minister, sizing up the situation, asked the harpist to accompany her sermon. James relaxed and Raven observed how her fear of burdening others contributed to her social isolation.

“When you open up and share a piece of your life, it invites an intimacy that is really valuable,” she said. “In that sense, James has helped me battle my inner autistic, a battle without which we’d all still be at home. We were an island within an island, and that’s no way to live. Without connecting to others, there really isn’t a whole lot of meaning.”

— Julie Goetz Morser is a freelance writer on Vashon.