The AME Church is My Church Home

I grew up in an AME church.  I still return to that same church on the occasional Easter or Mother's Day to worship with my in-laws and visit with my Pastor and his wife and old friends. To this day, our Pastor's wife is the epitome of "Church First Lady" to me and our church is the model of church home that I'm still looking for for our own family. I spent many evenings in choir rehearsal, usher meetings, YPD meetings, and waiting for my dad while he attended Trustee meetings.  When other teens were at the movies and parties, I was at revival and church conference. I ate a lot of fried chicken dinners and saran-wrapped yellow cake on Sunday afternoons. I spent a week each summer at Vacation Bible School with my friends. I met my husband in that church.  That little church, is my church home.

Unfortunately, church shootings and attacks in places of worship isn't a new thing.  Neither is a White man killing Black people out of hatred and evil, regardless of the inevitable claims of mental illness and some sad-sack story of his confused motivations. The debate on the access to guns, also, is something that is not a brand new discussion. I had to nod in agreement when a TV commentator on late night said that the fact that nothing in our gun laws changed after the shootings in Sandy Hook - when schoolchildren were shot in killed in their classrooms - there's little hope that they will ever change.

On Wednesday night, my children were in Bible study.  In fact, they had begged me to take them because they had such a good time on Tuesday night, so I drove back and forth taking one to her swim meet and the others to church.  Then, what a change overnight.  On Thursday night, I had second thoughts about taking them back.  I was on the other side of town, so it would've been easy to use that as the perfect excuse.  But we went. Because we can't operate out of a place of fear.  And what does that say about our faith if we fall to fear?

The adult lesson for Thursday night was out of Exodus, as Moses stood on the banks of the Red Sea, wondering how the children of Israel were going to cross over and escape their oppression.  He said to the people, "Fear ye not." (Exodus 14:13) The minister said that there are reminders to "fear not" at least 365 times in the Bible - one for each day of the year.

We keep moving, trying not to be afraid. But we keep finding less and less places to feel safe.  So what are we supposed to do?  We keep loving our kids and teaching them to love others. We hug them and pray that they are safe until we see them again, whether its when they get off the school bus or we pick them up from church or when we wake up in the morning. We keep praying, holding on to faith and holding on to hope.


I don't know that I have anything else to add to the conversation around the killing of nine people in Emanuel AME Church in Charleston SC.  But this is my small voice in what I hope will be a large, cacophonous noise for change.

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Currently… Catching up, Planning, and Tech-Challenged

Can you believe Thanksgiving is next week?  Where did the year go?  What are you doing this week as we get ready to roll into the holiday season?  Here’s what I’m up to this week.

Currently….

Android v Mac Tech-challenged. Trying to figure out how to get the 2000 pictures off of my Android phone onto my Mac computer.  My husband said “all you gotta do…”  Always be careful with any instructions that begin with this phrase.  It’s a signal that the things is not going to be simple, at all.

Catching up from last week.  You know how it is when you take a few days out of your normal routine – whether it’s for vacation, or you get sick, or you have to travel for work.  When you get back to your normal, there’s all the stuff you’ve got to do that should’ve been done while you were out of your normal spot.  I spent Monday through Friday at the school bookfair last week, so now I’m catching up at home. Laundry, groceries, housekeeping.  Writing.  Are there things that we can just say, “forget it, it’s not getting done”?  (By the way - I've listed a few diverse picks from the bookshelves in this post from last week - Diverse Books form the Bookfair.)

Getting ready for this week.  And despite trying to catch up from yesterday, today is still here and tomorrow is still coming.  I’m working on my menu plan (which helps a little bit with that daily panic of what’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner), related grocery list, and everything else to do list.

Thinking about Sunday’s message at church, or at least the line that I lifted out of it: To be a bridge for the hopeless, you must be ready to be trampled upon.  Still thinking on it, let’s talk about it more tomorrow.

Exercising again.  I don’t really have to go into the got off track, gained a few pounds, blah blah blah explanation, right?  So now, especially before the dessert-rich holiday season really kicks in, I’m trying to do better.  On my shopping list is one of those holders for the treadmill so I can read read on my iPad while I’m doing my walking warm-up.  I can scan email, Facebook and Twitter, flip through a few articles in those ten minutes.  I’m not much for exercise multi-tasking (why I love swimming) but this little bit makes me feel productive until I turn up the speed and start running.  Do you go into any kind of pre-holiday diet or exercise routine?

And I’m writing.  Working on novel number two and a few blog posts.  Coming up soon are posts about #GivingTuesday and service and a review of Watching Seeds Grow for kid entrepreneurs in observance of National Entrepreneurship Week.

Have a great week!

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Take the History Tour

It's what makes kids moan about and fear whenever there's a family visit to the city. Any city. Any city with a museum or historical site or old church. Eventually, the parents are going to drag them to somewhere at which they will hear or (gasp!) read something that might be educational or cultural or the least bit intellectual.  They kids know it's coming, that moment when they'll be pulled into some exhibit that one day may be vaguely familiar when a teacher mentions it in class. And as parents, we feel the need to do this, to expose them to culture and history, because, well, just because.

 

We've done a pretty good balance of the historical and potentially educational sites while on vacation. We visited the 9/11 Memorial in New York City and the kids didn't complain. Whether that was because they were actually interested or knew that this site was something they should not complain about, they were respectful and questioning and exploring when we went.

 

In Boston, we walked the Black History Trail, starting with the 54th Regiment Monument.  Along the route, there were homes where various Black Americans once lived and hid runaway slaves along the Underground Railroad and held abolitionist movement meetings, the first colored school and the first integrated school in the city, the African Meeting House that served as church, community center, political meeting place, and school.  We made our way to the spot that Crispus Attucks died and the Old North Church where Paul Revere instructed the men to hang the lanterns (one if by land...) 

 

"Why do we have to go? It's so hot. All these hills!" The kids whined.

"Because it's important. This was where the Revolutionary War started.  And these people worked toward ending slavery.  You'll be able to talk about it in school," I said.

"We don't even learn about all this in school, we don't talk about slavery," they reported.

"Well, then that's even more reason why we're here. Keep walking." 

 

I knew they were going to complain.  I didn't expect that they would have the same excited reaction as when we went to the aquarium, which is just as educational, in a different way. These are the experiences and knowledge, however, to which we want to expose our children. Seeing the Boston harbor will illustrate the point when they learn about the Boston Tea Party.  Understanding that "Glory" wasn't just a movie (although a great one) emphasizes that there were real, live people willing to sacrifice their lives for future generations' freedom even when they weren't even considered full citizens themselves. And now, having made it to New England on vacation, driving, perhaps it's more evident how long a journey it is from a southern (slave) state to a northern free state, and the distance people were willing to walk to escape slavery; and then there's the poster hanging in the museum, warning Bostonians about a law that would allow slave catchers to capture Blacks and take them back to the south as slaves, whether they were free or runaway slaves.  That may or may not come up in the history lessons at school, but it happened.

 

There's a lot that we want our children to know and understand about our history, culture, religion, world. As parents, that is one of our responsibilities, to teach them and expose them to as much as we can that we feel is important.  Even if they whine and complain.

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Stepping out on Faith

- Swim half a mile in open water (a real body of water, not a pool.)  Check.

- Run across a 1.5 mile, really high bridge.  Check. 

- Participate in a skit in public.  

- Pursue a passion. 

 

I don't like participating in skits.  Actually, let me correct that - I hate participating in skits.  Especially in public.  For me, any public performance is a break-out-in-sweat event.  Especially some improv thing.  How much do I hate being in skits?  So much so that in the Girl Scout activity guide where it lists skits as an activity option, I skip it just to avoid the possibility that the girls might ask me to be a part of it.  Yeah, I'm that bad.

 

So what happens this evening?  I go to a women's conference and get put into a group and we have to do a skit!  And it was at church so I couldn't say no, nor could I come up with some lie about why I wasn't going to do it.  I would've much rather run on the cold, long bridge again.

 

Why?  Why do we not like doing certain things?  We're scared, right?  Scared that we won't be successful - won't finish the race, will drown, will not be interesting in the skit, will be a bad speaker.  We're scared of failure, because it will be in front of everyone and who wants to do that?  Well, yes, of course it's the public part because we don't care what happens when we're  by ourselves.  I talk all day long when there's not a bunch of folks looking at me.  

 

I had to do the skit, no way out of it.  Hmmm...

The theme of the conference is about stepping out on faith, maybe that could be a hint.  Faith - the belief and trust in things not seen.  And that "thing" should be bigger than yourself because if all you've got to believe in is yourself, it would seem to kinda limit your expectations.  The key to having faith is that the thing you believe in - deity, spirit, star - should be a wiser, stronger, more knowledgeable being that knows what's waiting for you on the other side of whatever venture you are stepping into.  For me, it's God; it could be something/body different for you, but let's hope it's bigger than you.

 

Back to the skit.  Can't say I wasn't nervous, can't say I was good, can't say I was enthusiastic.  I was  none of that.  But having faith doesn't make you all the sudden not nervous or good or enthusiastic, you are still you after all.  Faith is not a magic wand - it's a journey, you're stepping in faith, moving forward.  Well, I made it through the skit.  And guess what?  My group won as the favorite skit!  That's the other thing that happens when you have faith.  Somehow the people, the resources, the stuff that needs to be in place for you to succeed is put where it needs to be.  For this skit, it was the enthusiastic, obviously skit-loving ladies in my group.  

 

What about that other thing on the list?  Following my passion, pursuing a dream.   Taking a few steps.  This blog is one of them.  Thanks for walking with me. 

  

Stepping out on faith... fashionably.

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At St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican

Today we visited St. Peter's Basilica. Regardless of your religious beliefs, its an amazing church encapsulating so much history. We are not Catholics, so we aren't aware of the historical Popes and all the Saints acknowledged by the Catholic church, but as Christians, its an interesting education. Many of those depicted in mosaics and statues are Biblical persons, some that are of course familiar to us - Peter, Andrew - and some that we never gave a lot of thought to - the soldier who pierced Jesus in his side; their stories are depicted here. Its a beautiful, religious space and testament to faith in God.

In the photo: the girls are in dresses w/t-shirts or sweaters. There is a dress code which requires knees and shoulders to be covered, people are turned away if not properly dressed. At Notre Dame, there was a note about being properly dressed, but there was no one watching. I wonder if this would work at home. I think its alright for a church to required respectful attire. What do you think?

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth...

If you've been in church enough, you know the Apostles' Creed.  Your mind knows the words, and today, I found that even without knowing the language, your heart knows the rhythm.

We visited The Cathedral of Notre Dame (Paris) this morning.  Just as we were crossing the street, the famous bells tolled, calling the faithful to service.  We entered thru the massive doors and took a row of seats near the back.  In revered awe, my eyes could not help but look higher and higher into the ceilings above us, drawn to the architectural lines and the magnificent stained glass windows.  Accompanied by singing, I saw the cross being carried into the nave and down the aisle to the pulpit.  The priest waved incense thru the air and the service began.  Now, let me note here that we are not Catholic, so this entire mass experience, aside from being in French, is new to us.  We followed along, standing and sitting when everyone else did and watching as the priest served communion.

In the comforting sound of the French mass, I felt calmed enough to think about where we were and how we got there, not only on this particular Sunday morning, but in life in general.  I reflected on how God has blessed our lives and covered us with grace.  With my eyes resting on the curved lines of the ceiling, I imagined the hundreds of people that built this cathedral for praise and the thousands who have worshipped here.  I marveled at the universality of faith in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

At some point in the service, the rhythm of the congregation's words felt familiar. And we fell in concert...
"who was conceived by the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, dead and buried.  On the third day, He arose from the dead and ascended into heaven..."

After service, we found rows of candles lining the walls.  Each candle the physical manifestation of someone's prayer.  To me, each candle was a reminder of our own flickering, temporal existence in this great world.  How much that light wavered and how long it lasted was not under our control, but God's, no matter how long we wanted it to burn.  In that great cathedral of worship, I lit a candle and said a prayer.  And then I left those hopes and worries in God's hands.