Reflections on My First Year in Ministry: There are Some Things Even Seminary can't Prepare you for

Well It's been about a year now since I started my first full time ministry position after Seminary.  In ways it has flown by and in other ways it has been a long and full of growing pains.  So here's my list of 7 things I've learned since graduating seminary. 7, because 5 was too few but I couldn't think of 10 and 7 made for a nice Biblical number.  Enjoy.

1) Being an Introvert in Ministry is Hard:
I'd say this is the main thing I've learned and am STILL learning how to handle. Many of the ministers I have had, especially senior pastors, were extroverts who could work a crowd. I am not that person.  I can stand up and preach a sermon, in fact I enjoy it.  However, as soon as the service is over I will stumble through the time in the receiving line. I can talk one on one with someone for hours about "deeper" things but just chatting up everyone after church is more challenging for me than running a marathon.  I am the person that goes to parties and will stand by the trash can or the chips and salsa- I figure everyone will come by there at some point. So I found myself being perceived differently than I am.  If I could go back and do some things differently I would, but I can only try to move forward.  I'm learning that I will have to do things that stretch me out of my comfort zone. Its not that i have to be an extrovert, trying to do so would be a disaster. But I also have to be a bit less "quite."   I haven't totally found this balance yet, but I know I'm closer today than I was a year ago..  In fact I'm reading a book on it.... expect more post to come on this point

2) Having a CDL Licence might not be a bad investment:

Seminaries should offer a CDL course!!  Trying to find a way to transport people for retreats in an affordable way is a PAIN!! If I had a CDL, we could borrow the church bus from Grace UMC down the road.  But even if you just drive a 15 passenger van, knowing how to drive a large vehicle and feel comfortable is key, especially when you then add screaming teenagers in the back.  Lucky for me, I learned how to drive in a Suburban, and I worked grounds crew in college so I drove dump trucks and other random machinery.  So, for my seminary friends, especially if you think you'll ever work with youth... maybe take a class or at least find some soccer moms in your church and get them to sit in the back of their van/suburban/SUV and role play screaming like kids or teenagers while you try to drive. It will improve your prayer life. 

3) CPE... you just thought it was over..
During CPE you walk with people through major medical emergencies and sometimes during deaths.  You learn some pastoral care "skills," as well as how to cope with your own emotions during those times.  and you hate it... and then you think you're done.  But for me, I found myself going back to those habits of reflections. Why? At least in my experience, when it is someone you know, it changes things. Big time. It hits you in a way that you won't experience in CPE.  It's not that you didn't care about the other people who were strangers, it's just that that your own emotions come into play much more when you already have a relationship with the patient or family. For me, this added a whole other dynamic to giving care to someone when it affects you in a way you aren't used to.  CPE was just the start. You have to build on it.

4) You will make plans.  They will go out the window. Things will go wrong.

Exhibit A: VBS 2012- the Norovirus outbreak. Exhibit B: new thurible sets off smoke detector.  Exhibit C: as the result of sleep depravation from a retreat, you leave you wallet at the cabin and don't realize until an hour into the trip home. I have more but you get the point. Despite your plans something will go wrong.  Be flexible,  say a prayer, and try to find a way to make things work as best you can.  Sometimes you'll recover ok, and sometimes you'll fail.  Sometimes the best thing you can do is just ask for help or call in for reinforcements to Lysol ALL THE THINGS!!!  Good News, the only perfect pastor was Jesus. You are not him. 

5) Facebook is Good for more than just announcements:
When I was in Seminary I had a rule of thumb- I will not "friend" parishioners but will just let them friend me.  I was SUPER worried about boundaries.  I still have this rule of thumb for youth (really, it's creepy for an adult to "friend" a minor. Don't do it. Let them decide). I still have other boundaries in place, especially with youth, but I've realized that perhaps I missed an opportunity.  Facebook can be a great way to get to know your parishioners.  Not only will it help you learn names during those first few weeks, but you also can get to know their stories, see their kids and/or pets, their hobbies and just be social. If I could go back, I'd use it more.

6) Boundaries really are that important, and no one will set them for you.
In seminary you talk alot about boundaries in theory.  Yes, they are THAT important. Of course we can all think of the examples of obvious black and white boundary issues- the pastor who gets into a romantic relationship with a parishioner or the one who has no boundaries on time and works him/herself to death.  The thing is, most boundaries aren't that obvious they're little things and things that aren't always black and white, but they make a big difference in keeping us healthy.  But... seminary only gives you so many practical lessons, the rest you have to figure out on your own.  This is especially true the more and more we interact through technology.  Between cell phones, facebook, twitter and e-mail you will be able to interact anytime, anywhere, with just about anyone.  So you have to decide what is ok and insist on those boundaries... it's the insisting on it that is not easy.  If you aren't sure what is a good boundary, ask your fellow staff, conference minister, bishop, or more expereinced clergy. They're very helpful.

7) If you are a Liturgy snob and you are in a protestant church you're going to have to learn to relax.
I will confess, I can't stand when there is something that is liturgically incorrect or out of order or... well you get the point.  I'm one of those people that gets annoyed if the paraments are the wrong color.  Here's the thing, we live in the real world.  So unless you want to go crazy, you're going to have to learn to let some things go. Lord have mercy, you may even have to wear a geneva gown at times if you go to a church that is not liturgical. So breath and try to be flexible, especially if your not the senior pastor.  Its not that we shouldn't aim for excellence, but its also just not worth having a heart attack over correct vestments or the "passing of the peace" being in the wrong order.  Find the balance between suggesting things that might be helpful and just being annal.

And One Bonus: You Will need to Keep learning.
Your education, both formal and informal, didn't end when you got to prance around in your cap and gown.  Keep reading, go to seminars... the church is still changing.  You need to keep learning to keep up with those changes.  Also, you as a person and a pastor are not ever done growing and changing. so keep reflecting.  Learn from your mistakes. And please, please have a therapist or spiritual director or someone who can help you do so.  Also, it's a good idea have more experienced ministers in your life as mentors as well.

On Church and Politics: One Crazy and Uncomfortable Idea

Am I Crazy, or is this somehow the nudging of the Holy Spirit?

I was book chapter recently about contemplative spirituality.  One of the comments mentioned that evangelical church culture tends to be a bit skeptical or contemplative forms of prayer and meditation.

This got me to thinking about my old days in the evangelical movement and the "styles" or worship, the culture, the traditions.  I sometimes think about the people I once was close to and wonder if we'll ever see each other the same again.  I wonder if we ever could sit at the table together again, be it for the Eucharist or just coffee and a chat where we actually hear each other as equals instead of looking to convince, convert or otherwise "prove" something to each other.  I wonder, when did the church become like American politics?  When did we start acting like politicians who will do anything to defeat the other party instead of looking to solve problems together?

The thing is this would mean an openness to something that is in many ways a perceived threat by both parties. For those of us hurt by the conservative church it is personal wounds.  I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to write an angry letter to THOSE people I knew as a kid, even before I was involved in church, and tell them how much their hateful version of Christianity made me want nothing to do with Jesus or the Church.  As an evangelical, I found "liberals" to be a threat- that somehow if they were right about any one thing that the whole "house of cards" of my conservative worldview might crumble.  To come back to the table means a bit of vulnerability.  Even as I write this I'm not sure how willing I feel.... and yet the idea keeps coming back to me.

As I read this I began to wonder if there might be a way to come back to the table and actually learn from each other.  My mainline tradition has a great deal to offer- be it the liturgy, a value of contemplative traditions, the lectionary (oh how I LOVE the RCL!), the colors and cycles of the church year.  I wonder if you, my evangelical friends, might find these things valuable if you learned of them.  I wonder what I might learn as well. What would happen if we stopped focusing on controversial issues and just talked?   Is this crazy? Am I even up for this?  I don't know, but it's percolating in my head.  I invite you to join the discussion.

South & Out Blog: Sharing My Story

I Recently had the chance to share my story for a friend's Blog, South & Out.  The following tells my journey through Chick-fil-a and back....

http://southandout.com/blog/chick-fil-gay-one-seminarians-journey

10 Things I Wish I Could Tell Every Teenage Girl

1) Don't Play Dumb

I really don't understand this, but I see it A LOT.  It seems that for some reason it is "cool" for a girl to be an airhead or to be a "dumb blond."  Why? Someone explain this to me.  What I do know is that of all the quality men (and women) I've met that are the kind of people you want to end up with do not find this attractive (in fact just the opposite). If you want others to take you seriously and respect you, take yourself seriously. You don't have to be a rocket scientist, but you also don't need to act like you’re dumb as rocks.

2) You Are More than Your Appearance

I was going to say, “You are beautiful” but not all young women like that word or feel “girly” so I want to use a more inclusive way of talking about this.  You are more than your body and more than your looks.  Many young women and girls feel they are not attractive.  For many it is that they feel “fat” and compare themselves to an “ideal” woman.  That woman DOESN’T EXIST.  The women we see in magazines are HEAVILY Photoshopped.   That’s right, even super models don’t look like super models.   Love your body; it is a part of you.  But also know that there is so much more to you than your looks.  Looks really don’t count as much as you might think.   Who you are, how you treat others, how you love others and yourself, what you’re passionate about, your weird quirks and even your “flaws” - these are the things that make you who you are, a person with inherent self-worth.  These are the things that make a person attractive as well.

3) You WILL Get Your Heart Broken, and You'll Live.

Despite what Bruno Mars says, you won't need morphine to survive a break-up.  Ask any adult, they can tell you at least one horror story, maybe more.  We've all lived through them, some more dramatic than others.  It will hurt, but you will get through it. Don't buy into the hype out there in love songs and bad movies.  Hold on to the good things in your life- your friends, your family- and keep going. In fact, that's just one of the good reasons to put as much energy into your friendships and family as you do dating.

4) Don’t Act a Fool on Facebook (or Twitter)

Everything that you post is seen by EVERYONE on your friend list.  For this reason, I recommend you think before you post so that you avoid a number of Facebook girl faux pas. For example, the passive aggressive post about someone else that you “don’t name.”  Another faux pas is the cryptic status update, where you post part of something you want to say but know you shouldn’t in public so you do this weird halfway thing instead. For example, posts like “Does he know…” Really?  Stop it. Then there is the whinny song lyric post, usually by Taylor swift.  Example: “turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you.”   Stop it.   If you want to say something, do it. Otherwise, don’t use Facebook to hint at it.   Oh and then there is the over-share- “I have such bad cramps!”  Thanks, no.  Not a status update.  Of course, all of this goes for Tweets as well.  Oh yea, and don’t take the duck face pics.  Really.

5) Your Parents Aren't Perfect but Their Advice is Often Right

This goes for some other adult figures as well.  I didn't want to listen to anything my dad told me. I thought he was nagging me.  The older I've gotten, the more I've seen of the "real world," the more I realize just how much I should have listened to my dad's advice about practical things.  The thing is, until you are on your own you don't know what all is involved in having to pay rent and bills, find jobs, and so forth.  Your parents' advice about life decisions now can help you later.   Your parents' advice can also help you now.  You may think they are morons, but they have lived through everything you have and more.  They can help you negotiate high school and peer pressures.  They can help you make choices that will keep you safe.  No, they aren't ALWAYS right, they are human.  They will mess up and yell sometimes when they shouldn't, but they do have a lot of wisdom to offer.  So listen.

6) Don't Get Married Until You're at Least 25

OK, so maybe not LITERALLY 25 for everyone, but I'd say it’s a good rule of thumb. It seems like everyone was going for the "ring by spring" in college.  I think part of it is a romantic/emotional desire, but part of it is a desire to be "grown up" to prove we are adults.  Marriage is a great thing and yes in some ways a right-of-passage, but don't be so focused on getting married that you just jump in as soon as you get serious with someone.  You will grow A LOT in college, but you will also change even more after you graduate.  I never fully knew who I was until at least the end of my first year of seminary.  My psychologist friend told me this is pretty consistent with the studies they have in the psychology world - that you aren't fully "formed" until around 25.  She also told me that statistically people who marry after 25 have more "successful" marriages.  So slow down!!! You have your whole life to be married.  Get to know a person, and see if you are truly compatible.

7) Tights Are Not Pants:

No, really.... they're not.  Tights or leggings are to be worn UNDER something and not out in the open in the place of actual pants.  In your life there will be numerous fashion trends that are similarly ridiculous - do not be fooled!!

8) It’s OK to Be Strong, AND it's OK to Cry

Our culture gives a very narrow definition of what it means to be a man or a woman.  While things have changed a good bit and we are becoming more open to women being strong, in many ways we still expect women to be weak both physically and emotionally.  For boys, not much has changed - boys still aren't supposed to cry.  Here's the thing - we made that crap up.  In some cultures it’s reversed - women are the strong ones.  So be strong when you want to be strong, and cry when you need to cry.  If you want to play sports, do so.  If you want to dance, do so.  Your preferences and interests are natural and uniquely a part of who you are.  I must add that for all people - guys, girls, adults, kids- it IS OK to cry.  I think our culture is uncomfortable with strong emotions, especially grief.  Let yourself express your feelings when they come.

9) It’s OK to Say "No"

The more I work with teenage girls the more I find them telling me things they've done with their boyfriends that they didn’t really seem like they wanted to do. So often it sounds like they either felt like they "should" be doing something or just went along with what the guy wanted.  I don't know what messages are out there in our culture telling young heterosexual women that they must be passive and just go along with whatever guys want.  Maybe it's something in the water.  Whatever the reason, the message is wrong.  Having a healthy relationship means both people are mutually respectful and fulfilled.  If a person cares for you they will respect your comfort level.  If not, then they're aren't worth keeping around anyway.  Your feelings and your choices matter. This has implications for all of life as well.  There are many ways our society tells women to be passive - start making your own choices now.  Your feelings count and your choices should be yours.

10) Be Who You Truly are, Even if it’s Not “Cool”:

You will never be happy trying to conform to something you are not.  You will never be happy until you live fully as yourself in your own skin.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that looking trendy or like all your friends is bad, IF that is who you are too.   But if there is a part of you that is different, embrace that too.  Whatever that may be or look like.

“When you learn to love yourself, you will dissolve all the stones that are cast, you will learn to burn the icing sky and to melt the waxen mask. Yes, to have the gift of true release, this is a peace that will take you higher. I come to you with my offering, I bring you strange fire.”

-Indigo Girls, Strange Fire

Where I've Been, Part II: The Obligatory Queer Backstory

OK, now back to the past after a little reflection on Good Friday.  I think I like this pattern of talking about the past then the present.  Here we go..

Post about "Where I've Been" wouldn't be complete for any queer person without posting the obligatory "when I knew" and "when I came out" and.... well, you get the picture.  People do often ask me "When did you know you were gay (a lesbian, queer, or whatever)?"  And often they are surprised when I tell them just how young I was when I "knew."

I was in First or Second Grade at the time.  I remember laying in my bed and flipping through my school yearbook, returning again and again to the same girl.  She was a year older.  We played soccer together. (This would soon become a trend in my life). She had glasses; I wanted glasses.  It was rather innocent.  Some girls kiss a boy on the playground in kindergarten; I just realized one day that it was a girl I wanted to kiss on the playground instead. People think Sexuality is all about Sex, but just like straight kids at that age it wasn't.  It was just, well, innocent puppy love.

As I lay there, flipping through that yearbook, coming again and again back to her, I stopped, shut the book, and thought to myself, "well $#*!...I'm Gay."  Some people deny it or fight it... others are uncomfortable with it.  I wasn't.  I never had a second thought about whether or not it was "OK." Everything I knew about God and faith at the time never gave me any indication or idea that being gay was "bad."  Hmm...Whats that they say? "and a child shall lead them."

I was young enough that I hadn't been exposed fully to the "reasons" people didn't like gay people.  I just knew that they didn't.  I figured they were like African Americans were in years past- that people were prejudice, but with no real reason. In my naive young mind it was just a matter of time before people accepted gay folks too.  I didn't realize that racism still exists, even if not as bad as it once was. I didn't realize it wasn't that simple. I just remember realizing I was gay, and that my next thought was, "well, this is going to be hard. people won't like me."  I knew that I was now a minority, though I didn't know the term "minority"at the time.  Having grown up in Birmingham, Alabama, the heart of the Civil Rights Movement, I just knew that people held prejudices, and that sometimes it took time and a fight to over come those prejudices. I knew that that was still the case for gay people, and I knew that until I was older I best keep this to myself.

As I got older, I discovered just why I had the impulse to keep things to myself.

I played on church sports teams for several years- all along the way frequently getting in trouble for profanity, often getting lectures about being a lady, and usually having to run laps for being the team clown or loosing my temper. What can I say, I was a bit rough around the edges as a kid.  It was not the most pleasant experience, as I generally felt like a bad person every time I was there. Sometimes I would get witnessed to after practice, which always confused me. I never understood why they kept asking me if I was a Christian, what did they think I was Hindu or something? I mean I know didn't go to church very often... if ever,  but my Parents were Christians, and I had grown up hearing the Christian story.  I hadn't heard that whole "born again" thing yet. Despite this, I stuck with it through all the crazy times.

The soccer team I played for got pretty serious, and we began to travel for tournaments and attend camps in the summers.  One summer, we went to a camp out of town for a week. It was around 6th grade I think.  I was getting tired of keeping my feelings bottled up and I started testing the waters with hypothetical questions to my teammates.  One day I sat in my room with one teammate, the girl I had my first real crush on.  She was among the evangelical Christians on the team.   She began asking me what was bothering me, and if it had to do with any of the hypothetical questions I was asking.  I said yes.  Then she asked me if it was the question “what would you do if your friend had a crush on you?” I froze. I couldn’t lie. Part of me wanted to tell her, to tell anyone, but knowing i knew she wouldn't react well.

“That’s it isn’t it?” she said.
“I didn’t say yes!” I snapped back.
“But you didn’t say no... so that means yes!”
A million thoughts filled my head as I paused for what felt like an eternity. I knew that she knew and I could not hide. I was afraid of what might happen next.  Still, I wanted to tell someone, so I nodded my head.  My heart pounded in my chest and my eyes filled up with tears, fearing the worst.

Needless to say, she freaked out. She told me it was wrong, unnatural and sin.  I pleaded with her not to tell anyone, which she reluctantly agreed to after I begged. I only remember her saying the words, “don’t ever talk to me about this again” as she walked out the door.  I jumped in bed and pulled the pillow over my face and played hooky for the next practice as a laid in my bed and cried.  I finished that week at camp- it was the last thing the team did before taking a break for the summer. When the team came back together for the fall season I was informed that she wasn’t coming back.

So that was the first person I told... It hurt, but you keep going.  my Journey continued, through many more twist and turns to bring me where I am today... stay tuned ;)

Gun Violence: A Good Friday Reflection

Gun Violence? Some might think this a strange way to reflect on Good Friday. My theology of the cross is not exactly the old school "blood atonement" theology. I find that over simplified at best and problematic at its worst. It's not surprising then that as I mark these observances, I find myself reflecting more on the story and what it says about our human experience and human condition than about my Christology per se.

This year it has been the violence of the story that has stuck with me.  As I look at our sacred story I have to wonder, are we any better?  Do we react out of fear and doubt?  Have we become any less violent?

In a way, this post has been brewing for some time.  The observance of Good Friday has just given me the ability to voice it.  For a little over a month the issue of Gun Violence has been haunting me. Both the very public Trayvon Martin case and the more personal death of a neighbor have left me grasping for clarity.  Please understand, this is not a post to try and answer the old question of gun control and constitutional rights.  It is simply my unfinished, but best attempt, to make sense of what I've seen.  

It seems safe to say that most have heard about the tragic shooting of Trayvon Martin, an unarmed teenager shot by a self-appointed neighborhood watchman.  The attacker, George Zimmerman, called 911 because the teen "looked suspicious."  He claims he shot in self-defense. While I know I am an outsider and do not know the full story, a few things are clear.  He was unarmed.  There are no marks on his attacker.  The 911 call indicates that his attacker pursued him, despite the dispatcher's advice. After following and hunting him down, He shot him.  Yet despite this, he has not been arrested.  I echo what many have already said- that the boy was racially profiled and attacked. The truth is we've created a culture where a black teen in a hoodie is automatically suspicious. If he had been white would the shooter have found him "suspicious?"  I suspect not.  Furthermore, if the victim had been white would the shooter still be free? We can't be certain. Finally, if the victim had been white would there be such a hateful smear campaign to paint him as a gang banger? This hateful response shows it isn't JUST George Zimmerman or the police Department who act out of racist sentiment.  Rather than admit that we've created a culture that profiles, we've sought to justify the killing by blaming the victim. 

When I look at this case, I see that we have not change much from the crowds who cried out for crucifixion.  They were afraid, they were reactive and impulsive, and they quickly turned to violence.  Even the closest disciples abandoned Jesus out of their own fear.  We are still a people controlled by our fear; in this case our fear of those who are "other." We are a people that, despite our talk of equality, still fears a black man in a hoodie, still sees him as inherently dangerous.  I say we, because yes, WE are part of the problem.  Zimmerman may have pulled the trigger, but our culture, or system has created that fear in him and in others.  Like the crowd on Good Friday, we react from our unfounded fears and resort to violence.  For Zimmerman, the reaction was a gun shot.   But when are we too reactionary?  When have I profiled those around me? We may not pull the trigger, but do we contribute to a system that leads the Zimmermans of the world to do so? When does our fear lead us to betrayal?  Could it be the way we've turn on the victim?  It seems so. Of course it's not just this case, we've seen a number of hate crimes from racism, homophobia, or just xenophobia.  As we journey into Good Friday, and hear the familiar story, I suspect that if we were honest with ourselves we might find our faces among the crowd.

The difference between the crowd in Jesus' time and us today though, is that we have become much more efficient and powerful.  We have guns that can take a life in an instant.  Indeed, we now even have guns that can take multiple lives, entire crowds of people, in an instant. This in particular is what has haunted me this past month. I debated posting about this, because I don't want to feed the sensationalism.  But I decided to do so because people should know the personal effects you don't see in the media.  We see just enough to be desensitized but not enough to see the full and tragic reality.  I suspect if we did, we'd be changed by it. I have been.

It was just over a month ago that Shelby and I woke up to hear her neighbor (soon to be mine) outside rather agitated around 4 a.m.  He was mentally ill and this would happen sometimes, but this time he seemed more upset.  The police came; we heard some commotion then a pause for awhile.  I don't remember what they did to reengage him, but soon things escalated.  The police were yelling, and then we heard two gun shots.  That was it.  I laid there in disbelief for a few seconds until the police banged on the door, yelling for us to get out now.  They didn't know if they had hit him- he had scrambled inside the door, where he died. The news said he had a gun. It was a BB gun.  Did the police follow protocol? At first I thought so, but now I have serious doubts from what I've learned after the fact. Without too much detail, it seems they shouldn't have been approaching him without SWAT there among other things.  If they did follow protocol, then the protocol needs to change. It should allow for measures to reach a person in mental crisis. This shouldn't have happened the way it did.  The situation escalated in a way that it shouldn't have.  The case is still under investigation, but as I listened to the interaction that night I couldn't help but think, "why are they provoking him? They're overreacting." 

We have the power to kill in a moment.  Deep down I believe that we are getting better but so often we are still the crowd calling for crucifixion, we've just become more dangerous.  You wouldn't see that from the media.  You wouldn't see the aftermath.  You wouldn’t hear about how helpless one feels to listen to violence unfold, wondering if there is anything you can do to stop it.  You wouldn't see that this was a person.  That he was a neighbor, that he planted Shelby's tea olive tree, that he was an animal lover who just rescued 5 kittens, that he was loved by his mother and sister... and in an instant he was gone.  We have become terribly powerful.

We haven't changed that much, we still call out, "Crucify him!"  Before you accuse me of blasphemy, I am not comparing these men to Jesus or making them out to be a Christ figure.  Rather, it is just the opposite.  I am comparing Jesus to them.  Jesus, who Christians believe was God incarnate among us, took on the worst violence we can to do each other.  Our Christ suffered at our hands and still suffers with those suffering and dying today.  If there is some comfort for me, it is in believing that our victims are not alone, that God is with them still, even in their darkest hours, even as God's own created children are the ones with the hammer and nails or the gun.  Easter is coming; Christ will conquer not only his death but every death.  But for now, I will walk into the shadows of Good Friday.  I will see myself in the crowd and repent.  I will grieve not only the death of my Lord but of all my brothers and sisters. It won't be pleasant, but I hope that you can join me.

Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Where I've Been, Part I: God's House?

It seems strange to start a blog about my life and my journey with current events.  So I've decided to post a few things from the past.  This post is a story a wrote about in college, and recounts my earliest memories of church.  Well here we go....

God's House:
I don’t remember going to church as a child on any sort of regular basis.  In all honesty I can only remember going on Easter, and only if we were at MeMaw Parker’s house.  My mother had grown up going to Piedmont First Methodist Church every time the doors opened, but had fallen out of the habit by the time I was born.  Apparently my brother had problems sleeping through the night when he was little and my parents discovered that if they took him camping he would wear himself out playing all day and pass out till they woke him up the next day.  When they woke up for the first time since his birth on their own and not to his crying they thought he was dead, but when they discovered that he was, in fact, actually sleeping they knew they had found the solution to their sleep deprivation. They vowed to go camping every weekend.  Needless to say, the appeal of sleeping the night outweighed the appeal of sleeping in church, and they soon found themselves going to church less and less.  Still, as true southerners buckled in the top notch of the Bible belt, we managed to get to church on Easter.
Generally I loved going to MeMaw’s house.  It was in rural Alabama in a town called Piedmont, but I always just referred to it as the real life Mayberry.  Her house, which she and my grandfather built themselves from the foundation up (no doubt with some forced labor provided by mother and my uncle), was surrounded by massive oak trees, climbing one of which became a major rite of passage among my siblings and cousins.  The lowest branch was well above my head when I was a child and I still remember the first time I was able to jump up and hold on then claw my way up, jamming my bare feet into every slight dip or crevasse in the thick trunk to gain traction till my whole body was on the lowest branch. Beyond the trees there were corn fields where we would play our elaborate games of cops and robbers, each row of gold stalks transformed into an alleyway where we took on the likes of Al Capone. We would spend all day driving from oak tree to corn field and around the neighboring farms on my uncle’s four wheeler, which of course in our minds was a police cruiser that could off-road and drive over the “double-dip” ditches, stopping only for the occasional homemade cookie and glass of milk.
 As a rough and dirty young tomboy, the days at grandma’s house seemed like heaven to me.  But that morning was Easter and it was explained to me that I had to get cleaned up and put on my best dress to go to church because, “we are going to God’s House, and you always look and bring your best when you go to God’s House.”  So, reluctantly, I dragged myself to the bath and scrubbed the four wheeler grease from my finger nails, and my mother attacked my head with the hair dryer and curlers and bandaged it with a big pink bow.  “You always have to look you best?” I thought as I stared at what once was me in the mirror, disturbed by the poodle styled hair that had replaced my cap and the giant pink monstrosity engulfing me that posed as a dress.  “This ain’t my best; I look like a deranged cupcake.”
I know that I had been to church prior to that Easter, but for some reason this is the first time that I remember.  I arrived in a state of frustration my pasty white tights were sagging and I wanted nothing more than to get out of my pink fluffy marshmallow dress and return to my tree climbing.  The service seemed to be last forever and I began to question if I really wanted to spend eternity in heaven with God if this was the preview.  There was an old guy standing in a booth atop a platform, which was atop some stairs that led down to the congregation.  His voice droned on and often I felt he was stating the same things again just to fill up the hour.
“Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord…Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty…Forgive us oh Holy one…Holy is the Lord God Almighty, the earth is filled with his glory…Father, you are holy, holy, holy.”
I stared up at the ceiling, white antique tiles with intricate wreath designs and the occasional dot of mildew, then the windows. The front circular one above the altar showing a white young blond headed Jesus looking quite depressed as he knelt by a boulder, eyes turned upward, pleading for something.  Wasn’t too sure what that was all about.
“God certainly has a fancy house,” I thought, as i stared blankly listening to the handbells.  “I guess he is God and he can have whatever he wants…he must be pretty lame, this place is boring,” I said to myself, although not really surprised since in my mind God was some old guy up in the sky who received prayers and would get back to you eventually. “If I were God I would have the coolest house ever!”
I began to envision a grand house suspended 40 feet in the air by a giant oak.  There would be a rope ladder that could be raised to prevent intruders, or boys with cooties. My brother could come in but most of the time it would be for me and my friends.  Fire poles would be in place to allow for quick exits to lower floors of the house or to descend from the tree all together.  Out behind the tree house would be a land full of dips and ditches for all of the four wheelers that would be parked by the fire poles, waiting to be driven. There would be no dresses allowed.  Shoes would only be used if necessary to protect the feet.  Indeed it would be the land flowing with milk and cookies.

About this Blog

So I'm joining the world of bloggers.   I can't say that I consider myself to be a brilliant writer or more insightful than anyone else.  I simply seek to share my story, my thoughts, and to add my voice to chorus. I'll post reflections from my own experience, and I hope to hear from yours.