Arguing with myself

 

University Christian Church
Fort Worth

Today, my church, University Christian, celebrated its 150th anniversary with one huge service instead of the four separate services of a usual Sunday. The music was spectacular. Hymns and anthems from our traditional services blended with guitar accompaniment to “How Firm a Foundation: and “His Eye is on the Sparrow”; a powerful group of wind instruments contrasted with the folk-music feel of guitar; and a full choir soared to the high notes. Every minister on staff was involved in the service in some way, but the highlight was a dialogue between senior minister Russ Peterman and former senior minister Scott Colglazier on the future of the church, what the church of the next 150 years needs to be about. Visiting dignitaries made brief appearances—the mayor of Fort Worth, the president of TCU, the regional Disciples minister, and a representative of the national headquarters of the church. The congregational turnout was huge and enthusiastic. Even in these glum days, an air of optimism and gratitude and grace elevated the service. Afterward there was a celebratory reception with food and fellowship, and a lot of people I would have liked to see.

I wasn’t there. I watched the almost two-hour service online, which has some advantages: I could hear everything better than I often did in the sanctuary, and when the ministers were talking, it was as though they were sitting across my desk talking directly to me. I almost had an urge to reach out to Scott and say, “Hi, nice to see you again.” During his pastorate, I was most active in the church. My good friend and the director of music, Betty Boles, could always find things she thought I ought to do. And I did them willingly and happily. It’s a part of my life I miss now.

I argued with myself all week about going to this service. When I first heard about the plans I was excited, ready to be in the congregation. Since I don’t leave the cottage often, I think I should never miss an opportunity. But the more I thought about it, the more I questioned the wisdom of going. Christian would push me in the transport chair, but if it was as crowded as I expected it would be awkward and difficult. I didn’t want to go the reception because when you’re in a wheelchair at a reception where people, all standing, are milling around, you somehow seem to shrink. Been there, done that, felt like a child among giants.

So I attended virtually, and it turned out to be the right decision. When I heard one minister mention parking difficulties and the senior minister urge the congregation to used the exterior sidewalks to get to the reception and avoid traffic jams, I knew I’d made the right decision. Not only did I avoid what might have ranged from awkward to difficult, but I got full benefit out of the service—and yes, some inspiration. Jordan tells me she and Jean and Jeannie talked about how good it was that I wasn’t there. Sounds funny, but it was true.

And I was still in my pajamas the entire time.

There’s something about intuition, about listening to your gut. I find that more often than not my instincts are right, if I just have the courage to follow them. This was one of those days. To quote one of the ministers out of context, “Thanks be to God.”

And so we begin another week. Pray for peace.

A new appreciation of Halloween

I've never been excited about Halloween. I don't decorate my house or yard, and I haven't worn a costume probably since I was twelve or thereabouts. Sure, when my kids were little we went door to door, and when they were older they concocted elaborate horror houses at the front door to scare trick-or-treaters. But to my mind the whole thing has been blown out of proportion.
I suppose living alone for many years has added to my feeling. Once I had an empty nest, I dreaded giving out treats, especially when rather large teenagers came to my door. Finally I just turned off all the lights and worked at my computer in the dark, ignoring the whole thing.
But for the last few years, I have been taking candy and going next door to co-host the trick-or-treating. Usually Jay is home and he and Susan alternate giving out treats but tonight he wasn't home, and I helped give out candy. While I ate the delicious beef stew that Susan always makes, she manned the candy table. Then we switched so she could eat.
We live in one of those inner-city neighborhoods where children are brought in carloads from other neighborhoods--a nice, safe neighborhood with abundant candy. Susan, her father, and I estimate we gave had 500 children (including some adults and some who came back for a second go-round) between 6:00 and 8:15 when we shut it down. Of those, I recognized one family and one other child, a good friend of Jacob's. I used to resent that, particularly when grown women took handfuls of candy. But a friend said to me, "Judy, that may be all they've had to eat today." And it occurred to me that they might also be building a stash for when they couldn't buy their children candy. Then again, they might have been just greedy, but why think the worst of people. Susan bypassed that problem tonight by putting two pieces in each bag herself--it worked wonderfully well, except for one child who was too young to know better and one who was too old not to know better. When I said, "Not cool," he turned and gave me a long look. Maybe he isn't used to being corrected.
Almost every child we gave candy to was polite--often if they forgot the "Thank you," there was a parent nearby to remind them. And some of them simply sparkled with excitement, their eyes dancing. You couldn't help but share their enthusiasm and joy. Some were so little they had to be encouraged where to go, what to say--I think Mom and Dad were the ones getting a kick out of trick or treating, and the kids were simply bewildered. But the atmosphere was one of neighborliness, respect, and friendship. I loved it.
Traffic of course is a nightmare, and I did hear of one unpleasant altercation between two drivers who were trying to pass each other with cars parked on either side of our narrow older streets--apparently there was vulgarity and some animosity about who lived in the neighborhood and who didn't. I hate that. It ruined the atmosphere of the evening.
On the other hand, our municipal ambulance service, MedStar, brought two severely handicapped children, each in an ambulance, to trick or treat on the next street over. Such generosity and caring epitomizes our neighborhood...and our city. And I'm proud of it.
So Happy Hallow's Eve everyone!  There is historical and religious significance to this holiday, which may be why I resent the hoopla a bit. Just as many of us feel about Christmas. But after tonight I look forward to next year.