Two Things
Apr. 22nd, 2010 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wlotusThere are two things I would like to do this spring.
1. Visit Aunt Mo's grave. It has been two years, and I need to spend some time there in quiet contemplation.
2. Visit the church of my youth.
When I talk about my spiritual journey, I usually remember and discuss events/memories beginning with the church my family joined when I was about seven years old. I was not happy most of the nine or ten years we spent in that church, so I tend to think of my spiritual journey as one founded in misery. But a link on Facebook has jogged my memory, and I realize that is not where and how my spiritual journey began.
My faith journey began in the church I was born into, a church where I was too young to be aware of any conflicts between being myself and being a member of that church family. All of my memories of that church are good ones, because all of the negative stuff (some of which led to my parents' departure from the congregation) was too advanced for me to comprehend, and because my parents were good at shielding me from adult matters.
That is the church where I became aware of my innate sense of reverence.
It felt as though my family left that church all of a sudden; one day we were active members, and then suddenly we were not. The little girl in me never got a sense of closure. I don't know if there was any way I could have gotten closure without my parents burdening me with details that were far beyond my six-year-old ability to comprehend. But now that I am an adult, I want to go back there to give Little![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wlotus an opportunity to seek closure. I don't need to talk to anyone, though if I asked around there are probably people there who still remember me as an impeccably dressed child in ruffled socks, patent leather shoes, and white gloves who knew to smooth her dress over her knees whenever she sat down. Since this is a black Pentecostal church, I expect their theology to be very different from mine, so I have no misconceptions of finding an ideal spiritual home there. I just need to be in the building, to sit under the same roof I sat under as a very little girl, and meditate on the differences and similarities between who I was then and who I am now. Then I will probably be able to say good-bye and go in peace.
I also need to photograph the building, as it has been declared a historical landmark. You know the photographer in me cannot resist that!
1. Visit Aunt Mo's grave. It has been two years, and I need to spend some time there in quiet contemplation.
2. Visit the church of my youth.
When I talk about my spiritual journey, I usually remember and discuss events/memories beginning with the church my family joined when I was about seven years old. I was not happy most of the nine or ten years we spent in that church, so I tend to think of my spiritual journey as one founded in misery. But a link on Facebook has jogged my memory, and I realize that is not where and how my spiritual journey began.
My faith journey began in the church I was born into, a church where I was too young to be aware of any conflicts between being myself and being a member of that church family. All of my memories of that church are good ones, because all of the negative stuff (some of which led to my parents' departure from the congregation) was too advanced for me to comprehend, and because my parents were good at shielding me from adult matters.
That is the church where I became aware of my innate sense of reverence.
It felt as though my family left that church all of a sudden; one day we were active members, and then suddenly we were not. The little girl in me never got a sense of closure. I don't know if there was any way I could have gotten closure without my parents burdening me with details that were far beyond my six-year-old ability to comprehend. But now that I am an adult, I want to go back there to give Little
wlotus an opportunity to seek closure. I don't need to talk to anyone, though if I asked around there are probably people there who still remember me as an impeccably dressed child in ruffled socks, patent leather shoes, and white gloves who knew to smooth her dress over her knees whenever she sat down. Since this is a black Pentecostal church, I expect their theology to be very different from mine, so I have no misconceptions of finding an ideal spiritual home there. I just need to be in the building, to sit under the same roof I sat under as a very little girl, and meditate on the differences and similarities between who I was then and who I am now. Then I will probably be able to say good-bye and go in peace.I also need to photograph the building, as it has been declared a historical landmark. You know the photographer in me cannot resist that!
