Arkansas ABLE Ministry UPCI

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Arkansas ABLE Ministry UPCI ABLE (Accept, Believe, Love, Embrace) individuals and families impacted by disability in the state of Arkansas.

ABLE Ministry is a program in the Ladies' Ministries division of the United Pentecostal Church International (UPCI) . ABLE (Accept, Believe, Love, Embrace) individuals and families impacted by disability. ABLE ministry is a program of the Ladies Ministries division of the United Pentecostal Church International (UPCI) and is dedicated to assisting the special needs and disabled populations within the church and the community. We invite those with similar experiences to join us in our groups to connect and share your lives. ABLE is committed to increasing awareness about disabilities in the community, the church and the world. Together, we will provide the strength, support, and assistance necessary to meet the needs of those affected by disabilities physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Dr. Shelli Allen - ABLE Arkansas is so very proud of you! Thanks for all you do for us! https://www.facebook.com/share/p...
10/16/2026

Dr. Shelli Allen - ABLE Arkansas is so very proud of you! Thanks for all you do for us! https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1CDSJhT6gg/

🎓 **Exciting News from Ignite Christian Academy!** 🔥

We are proud to announce that our founder and administrator, **Dr. Shelli Allen**, will present her research at the **Urshan Symposium on October 15–16**!

Her presentation, *“AI-Supported Neurodiverse Learning in Virtual Christian Education: An Apostolic Perspective on Serving Students with Severe Autism,”* reflects Ignite’s commitment to combining faith, innovation, and inclusive education to better serve every learner.

Please join us in celebrating this exciting achievement and praying that Dr. Allen’s research will encourage educators, strengthen ministries, and help create more accessible learning opportunities for students with disabilities.

Congratulations, Dr. Allen! Your Ignite family is cheering you on! 🔥

ABLE Connect: Moms Virtual Groups! Links to the groups are in the comments. Are you a mom of a child or adult with a dis...
09/02/2026

ABLE Connect: Moms Virtual Groups! Links to the groups are in the comments.

Are you a mom of a child or adult with a disability, chronic illness, or mental health challenge? You’re not alone. 💛 Register for our virtual moms group! One mom shared it best: "It’s a place to heal, to be understood, and to be seen. We cry, but we also laugh a whole lot!"

Each semester, we’re reminded just how much our journeys overlap—and how faithfully God meets us right in the middle of it all. If you’re curious and want to know more, watch our Moms Group Podcast episode on YouTube. The 11-week group begins the week of September 13, 2026. Registration links are in the comments.

• Monday Mornings at 10:00 a.m. EST

• Thursday Evenings at 9:00 p.m. EST

• Friday Evenings at 7:30 p.m. EST

• ILLINOIS DISTRICT ONLY - Mondays at 8:00 p.m. CDT

Come find connection, encouragement, and a space where you truly belong. 💙

Not a mom? Tag an ABLE mom you know!

08/09/2026

Sharing a special prayer for all our families heading back to school this fall...

🙏 **A Back-to-School Prayer for Our Able Community** 💛

Dear Lord,

It’s back-to-school time again.

The backpacks are packed.
The schedules are changing.
The alarms are set.

And somewhere, a parent is already wondering where they put the paperwork they *specifically put somewhere safe so they wouldn’t lose it.*

So, Lord, we come to You on behalf of some pretty incredible kids—and the village of people walking into another school year beside them.

Bless our **special education teachers**.

Give them wisdom to see beyond a diagnosis, patience for the hard days, creativity when Plan A through Plan Q do not work, and the ability to somehow remember the accommodations, goals, sensory needs, communication preferences, schedules, passwords, meeting dates, and approximately 4,782 other things they are responsible for.

And Lord, when someone says, “Have you tried a sticker chart?”
Give them grace.
Extra grace. 😅

Bless our **paraprofessionals**.

The ones who sit beside our children, walk the hallways with them, help them regulate, redirect, communicate, eat lunch, navigate transitions, complete assignments, learn independence, and sometimes simply make it through a moment that felt impossible five minutes earlier.

May they know that the smallest victories they witness are not small at all.

Bless the paras who will celebrate a zipped backpack, an independently opened milk carton, a successful bathroom trip, a spoken word, an AAC request, a completed worksheet, or a child simply making it through an assembly.

Lord, give them comfortable shoes.

Seriously.

**Comfortable shoes.**

Bless our **speech therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists, behavioral specialists, counselors, nurses, adaptive PE teachers, transportation staff, cafeteria workers, administrators, and every other person who becomes part of our children's team.**

Give them knowledge—but also give them curiosity.

Help them ask,
“What is this child trying to communicate?”
before asking,
“How do we stop this behavior?”

Help them recognize that communication does not always come through spoken words, learning does not always look like sitting quietly at a desk, and progress does not always fit neatly on a graph.

Bless our **bus drivers and transportation staff** who somehow manage routes, wheelchairs, harnesses, backpacks, sensory needs, schedules, and morning emotions before some of us have even finished our coffee.

May every bus arrive safely.

And Lord, please let somebody notice if the AAC device gets left on the bus.

Bless our **parents and caregivers**.

The ones filling out the same medical history for what feels like the 947th time.

The ones sending emails that begin with,
“Just a heads-up…”

The ones packing sensory items, medications, communication devices, backup clothes, safe foods, headphones, chewies, fidgets, and the one very specific snack that absolutely cannot be substituted with another brand because *You know, Lord.*

You know.

Give parents courage to advocate without feeling like they have to apologize for advocating.

Give them wisdom to know when to push, when to wait, when to ask another question, and when to trust the team.

And when the school calls unexpectedly during the day…

Lord, calm their hearts before they even answer the phone. ❤️

Bless the **IEP teams**.

May the meetings be collaborative.

May everyone actually read the IEP.

May accommodations be implemented.

May goals be meaningful.

May data tell the whole story.

May parents feel heard.

May educators feel supported.

And may every meeting that could have been an email…

Well, Lord, we will leave that one with You. 😂

Most of all, bless **our children**.

The child excitedly waiting at the door.

The child who doesn't understand why the summer routine suddenly changed.

The child who loves school.

The child who is terrified of school.

The child who communicates with words, signs, pictures, gestures, devices, movements, sounds, or simply by leading someone's hand.

The child who will master grade-level work.

The child working on life skills.

The child whose greatest accomplishment this year may never appear on a report card.

Help each one be **seen**.

Not as a diagnosis.

Not as a behavior.

Not as a test score.

Not as a caseload number.

Not as “the kid in the special education room.”

But as a whole person—

Created intentionally.

Capable of growth.

Worthy of dignity.

Deserving of friendship.

And deeply loved.

Lord, remind all of us this year that progress may look different for every child.

Sometimes progress is reading another chapter.

Sometimes it's solving an equation.

Sometimes it's tolerating a fire drill.

Sometimes it's asking for a break instead of melting down.

Sometimes it's trying a new food.

Sometimes it's walking into the building.

Sometimes it's simply coming back tomorrow and trying again.

Help us celebrate **all of it**.

Protect our children.

Strengthen their families.

Equip their teachers.

Encourage their paras.

Guide their therapists.

Give administrators wisdom.

Give support staff patience.

Give everyone compassion.

And please, Lord…

Let the Wi-Fi work.

Let the laminator survive.

Let the printer recognize that it DOES, in fact, have paper.

Let the Velcro stick.

Let the communication devices stay charged.

Let nobody lose the favorite fidget.

And if somebody changes the packaging on a preferred food during the first week of school…

We ask for a special measure of grace for everyone involved. 😭😂

May this school year be filled with learning, belonging, friendship, growth, dignity, laughter, and moments that remind us why this work matters so deeply.

And on the really hard days, remind every parent, teacher, para, therapist, and support professional:

**Different does not mean less.
Small progress is still progress.
Communication is more than speech.
Behavior is communication.
And every child deserves someone who believes there is more inside of them waiting to be discovered.**

Bless our special needs families and every person who will walk beside them this school year.

Give us patience for the process, grace for one another, and enough coffee for whatever Monday morning has planned.

In Jesus' name,

**Amen.** 🙏💛

*Now please label the water bottles, charge the AAC devices, find the missing headphones, and check the backpack one more time.*

**Here we go. 🚌📚💛**

Today I was visiting with a friend, and we started talking about the kids. As she asked how they were doing, pieces of o...
08/05/2026

Today I was visiting with a friend, and we started talking about the kids. As she asked how they were doing, pieces of our conversation took me back to some incredibly challenging seasons—particularly with Josh.

When my kids were younger, sharing our story was therapeutic for me. I talked openly about what it was like raising two children with profound autism because I needed to. I needed connection. I needed people to understand. And sometimes I just needed somewhere to put all of the emotions that came with this life.

Now that Josh and Izzy are adult-age-ish, I don't share as much.

Part of that is because sharing our story openly takes a lot more emotional and mental energy from me these days. But I think another part is that I have found my people. I have a community of people I can talk to who understand. And somewhere along the way, I came to grips with our reality.

That doesn't mean I never grieve.

There are still moments when I think about the hopes and dreams I might have had for my children at this age if their development had been typical. Sometimes that grief hits deeply. But now I recognize it when it comes. I know what it is. I know it will eventually pass. And I know I will be okay.

I don't think I ever had many preconceived ideas about what adulthood would look like for Josh and Izzy. Maybe by the time they reached the age when most parents start imagining college, careers, independence, marriage, and everything that comes next, I already knew their lives would look different.

Different doesn't mean easy.

Last month I sat in my car outside a hospital and cried big, ugly tears because doctors and staff weren't prepared for my son to receive much-needed dental treatment.

I was MAD.

I was disappointed.

And for a little while, I just sat there and cried.

Then I wiped my face, picked up my phone, and started making calls. Because we were going to figure it out. The next time, we were going to be better prepared. Josh was going to get what he needed.

Families like ours do this over and over again.

Something falls apart. A system isn't prepared. Someone doesn't understand profound autism. A provider doesn't listen. A service isn't available.

It feels unfair because sometimes it IS unfair.

And somehow, we find a way forward.

Maybe that's why my conversation today brought back so many memories.

I remembered Josh's first dental procedure under anesthesia. When he woke up, he became so distressed that they took him almost immediately from the procedure to my car, hoping being with me would help. I was alone and driving when everything unraveled.

We lived. We learned.

Now Josh is practically a pro at procedures requiring sedation.

This is the same kid who survived brain surgery at five years old.

The same kid who coded three different times after multiple seizures—and after being revived and becoming conscious, sat straight up in that trauma room and gave me the BIGGEST smile.

We've had doctors who were wonderful.

We've also encountered doctors who had absolutely no business treating someone with autism.

We've had hospital visits that took everything out of us.

There was the time it took seven nurses to safely manage Josh after COVID and a severe medication reaction caused extreme aggression.

We've had some doozies.

And today?

Today I'm sitting here remembering all of this while Josh is skipping around the house, smiling, and seemingly daring me to chase him.

And THAT is the part I wish people could see.

The hugs.

The kisses.

The laughter.

The routines that mean nothing to anyone else but everything to us.

The joy that lives right alongside the hard.

A recent story about a family in Australia hit me particularly hard because I understand pieces of that desperation.

Access to healthcare is hard.

Access to education is hard.

Finding appropriate services is hard.

Coordinating those services is hard.

Maintaining relationships and marriages through years of caregiving is hard.

Finding a church, school, doctor, therapist, dentist, or community that truly understands profound disability can be hard.

And the isolation families experience can be incredibly hard.

But I wish you could also see what I get to see every day.

My family is such a blessing to me.

Would I make some parts of this life easier if I could?

Absolutely.

But I wouldn't trade the people I love.

Good things require hard things sometimes.

And they are worth fighting for.

So if you are raising a child with profound autism—or maybe your child isn't a child anymore—and you're exhausted from fighting systems that weren't built with your family in mind, I want you to know something:

Keep searching for your people.

They are out there.

The right doctor.
The right specialist.
The right school.
The right teacher.
The right church.
The right friend who understands why something that seems small to everyone else feels enormous to you.

Keep looking.

And when you find your people, hold onto them.

Over the years, I have sat with many families who needed someone to listen. It never gets old. Maybe because I remember what it felt like to desperately need someone who understood.

We need one another.

And if our story can do anything now, maybe it can remind another family walking through a hard season that there can still be tremendous joy on the other side of things you aren't sure you can survive.

Sometimes the evidence is a young man skipping through your house with the biggest smile on his face, waiting for his mom to chase him.

And you realize:

Look how far we've come. ❤️

Love that our campers have what they need while at AR Kids Camp!! ⛺️
06/09/2026

Love that our campers have what they need while at AR Kids Camp!! ⛺️

You Are SEEN. You Are Not Alone.Are you a sibling of someone with a disability or chronic illness? We’ve created a space...
03/18/2026

You Are SEEN. You Are Not Alone.

Are you a sibling of someone with a disability or chronic illness? We’ve created a space just for you. 💛

Welcome to ABLE Connect: Siblings!

Join our 11-week virtual group designed for siblings (18+) who are ready to connect, grow, and be supported alongside others who truly understand your journey. We will also provide instruction and mentorship for those who feel called to go a step further—equipping you to lead and support other siblings in meaningful ways.

Whether you’re looking for community, encouragement, or a way to make a difference, this is your place.

👉 Interested? Click the link or scan the QR code to learn more and sign up! Groups start April 7, 2026.

https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/tTo9TpjVTwyx02DCNYDn8A

Are you a mom of a child or adult with a disability, chronic illness, or mental health challenge? You’re not alone. 💛We’...
03/18/2026

Are you a mom of a child or adult with a disability, chronic illness, or mental health challenge? You’re not alone. 💛
We’re so excited to announce the next semester of ABLE Ministry Moms Groups!
One mom shared it best:
“It’s a place to heal, to be understood, and to be seen. We cry—but we also laugh a whole lot!”
Each semester, we’re reminded just how much our journeys overlap—and how faithfully God meets us right in the middle of it all.
🗓 11-week groups begin the week of March 30
👉 Choose the day that works best for you and register at the link in the comments.
Come find connection, encouragement, and a space where you truly belong. 💙
Not a mom? Tag someone who is! If you’re curious and want to know more, watch our Moms Group Podcast episode:https://youtu.be/y_B-BmQjpLQ...

Sign up for the ABLE Connect: Moms Virtual Group:
Mondays 6:30-7:30 CST: https://us02web.zoom.us/.../register/qgjjpTmySyi17wtyz3i6fQ
Tuesdays 7:30-8:30 CST: https://us02web.zoom.us/.../register/xzu-cs82SG6OfyXfhAMFWw
Wednesdays 6:00-7:00 CST: https://us02web.zoom.us/.../register/WgUXFNKQQKS54-G_FAhYfg
Thursdays 7:00-8:00 CST: https://us02web.zoom.us/.../register/trK5oWlkRkKi-HyfaadVsQ
Saturdays 7:30-8:30 CST: https://us02web.zoom.us/.../register/WYm0T6ysRiuSr7KtqAnZXQ

Address

1200 US Highway 365 S
Redfield, AR
727132

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