This report is long overdue. Several weeks ago, I was able to take Baby E to St. Paul's for the first time. Papa D had work commitments, and I was wanted to go to church. It was a very different experience.
First of all, I felt
much less self-conscious. My attention was primarily focused on my toddler, making sure that he was happy and behaving well. Boy, did that feel a lot more comfortable than sitting there alone. While I know that my general discomfort stems mostly from my race, I didn't feel that I was more comfortable because of E's race. As is usual, I didn't get a feeling that people were noticing E's brownness. Seriously, do I have terrible radar for this sort of thing? Am I clueless? Or is it really not happening? (Maybe I could do an experiment and walk around with E and an friend who is of color, and see if my friends notices any vibes.) I mean, E is
ambiguously brown, but he is brown. Papa D thinks that E really "reads" as Latino, so maybe the congregation members didn't identify with E.
Second, it was just overall a lovely experience. The pastor called E and I up to the front of the church (what do you call that area with the little banister and cushions for kneeling?) for the Blessing on the Children. The congregation does this blessing every week, whether there are children present or not. After the pastor said a blessing over E, then another member of the congregation said a prayer for children everywhere. I came very close to
almost speaking, because I felt the Spirit inside me as I realized that it was
Orphan Sunday. I was in the middle of a month-long campaign to honor National Adoption Month by educating people about the plight of orphans. It crossed my mind that a prayer said, in this Christian church, for orphans could have a greater resonance...but I didn't have the courage to speak, and the Spirit wasn't urgent. I think I knew that our prayers were enough already.
I did feel as if people were even warmer than usual to me. I had an adorable baby with me, so that just made everything so much more pleasant. My overwhelming memory of the morning was sitting in the pew, nursing E, with the sun streaming through the windows. I felt like I was bathed in a halo of light. It was magical. (And far outweighs the later experience of rushing him out, jiggling him, playing with him in the foyer, taking him outside because he wouldn't hush up during the Word.)
It's interesting to think now that may have been my last day at St. Paul's, a capstone to my six-month journey with them.
I'm now thinking that I'm going to step back from my quest for a spiritual community for a while. The main reason I am going to stop making church a high-priority for my weekend schedule is that it puts a wedge between my husband and I. Because it's not something we do together, it pulls me away from him and our marriage.
This seems like the right time, because the pastor announced that she is leaving the congregation due to medical issues. The transition allows me a graceful exit.
I feel comfortable with this decision because I do feel I have gotten some of what I was searching for:
- A renewed feeling of connection to the divine,
- A way of getting through the tough times of my former job and layoff,
- A deepened understanding of African-American culture,
- Some initial ties into the African-American community in my town, and
- The experience of being in the minority.
I feel that I still have St. Paul's as a resource, if I or Baby E need it, but that it's not the right focus for my time and energy right now.
I don't know yet whether this means I will reduce - even further - the postings on this blog. I am interested in occasionally attending the UU church, when particular topics seem to be of interest to our family, and in exploring other churches in the area. Perhaps I can journal about those experiences. Or perhaps I will continue to have thoughts about mothering, race, adoption, and spirituality that I want to record for posterity.
