Why Sensory Tools Are Heaven-Sent for Neurodivergent Brains

Let’s be honest—life can feel like a 24/7 sensory overload buffet. Between the loud commercials, the scratchy shirt tags, and that one light in the kitchen that flickers like it’s hosting a disco revival, it’s a lot. Now imagine facing all that with a brain wired for extra sensitivity. That’s where sensory tools come in—little miracles with textures, weights, and spins that whisper, “You’re safe here.”

At My Steady Steps, we believe every brain is fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), including the squiggly, bouncy, overstimulated kind. And when God created sensory items (through some very clever humans), I imagine He chuckled and said, “Let there be calm—and fidget spinners.”

So, What Are Sensory Items, Anyway?

Sensory tools are like the Swiss Army knives of peace. They come in all shapes and functions—chewelry (chewable jewelry, not a typo), weighted lap buddies, squishy balls, calming lights, textured mats, and more. These tools help neurodivergent folks manage input from the world without needing to scream into a pillow (though let’s be real, we’ve all been there).

For someone with ADHD, autism, anxiety, or sensory processing differences, these tools give their brain something productive to do while the rest of the world keeps being… a lot.

But Wait, There’s Faith in This Too

Our God is not a God of chaos, but of peace (1 Corinthians 14:33). When a child (or grown-up, no judgment here) is trying to regulate big emotions in a loud, confusing world, sensory items offer a gentle, God-glorifying pause. They’re like mini manna for overstimulated moments.

It’s not just about calming down—it’s about honoring the design God gave them. A weighted blanket? That’s not just pressure. That’s comfort on purpose. A chewy necklace? That’s not a distraction. That’s focus in action.

Laughter Is the Best Fidget

Let’s not pretend we haven’t seen a grown man spinning a fidget cube like it’s a Rubik’s Cube from heaven. Sensory tools aren’t just functional—they’re kind of hilarious. Someone once told me their chewy necklace was “better than gum, but less drama.” 

And honestly? Watching your toddler passionately squish a glittery putty for twenty uninterrupted minutes is a mental break for both of you to reset. You want to shout, “They're regulated, y’all!! We did it!”

Sensory Support Is Kingdom Work

When we equip our neurodivergent loved ones with the tools they need, we’re doing holy work. We’re saying, “I see you. I love you. And I respect your needs.” That’s ministry. That’s inclusion. That’s the My Steady Steps way—one calm heart, one quiet corner, one fidget spinner at a time.

-Che Johnson