When I was 8 years old, my
parents decided to separate, and eventually, divorce. My parents separating was a terrible thing to
have happen to me, even if it was the right thing for my parents to do. Some of you have had a terrible thing like
that happen – some of you never have.
Sometimes when something
terrible happens our minds make it so we don’t remember a lot about it, and
that happened to me. I don’t remember a
lot about being 8, or about my parents separating. But I do remember some things.
One thing I remember is the
day that for hours and hours, everyone in my house was crying. My mother was crying, my father was crying, I
was crying, and my two brothers were crying.
And I remember going to stay
at my grandparents’ house, with my mother and brothers, where we would continue
to live for the next 5 or 6 years. Even
though that was one of my favorite places to be, because things were different,
it was strange, we were all unhappy, and nothing felt right.
And I remember that the next
morning was a Sunday morning, when my grandmother usually went to the UU Church
of the Restoration in Mt. Airy to decorate the altar. That day, she took me with her. My grandma and grandpa had been taking my
brothers and I to church there every week for most of my life. But I don’t think I had ever gone early with
her to do the decorating before then.
The church was different
early in the morning before anyone else arrived, even the choir director or the
minister. That church is made of stone
and dark wood and stained glass. It was
so very quiet. It was dimly lit. My grandma was there but she was not asking
me to talk to her about what was wrong or think about it or anything.
We took out a beautiful cloth
to put on the altar. We found some dried
flowers to put there. We got some
candles and put them in fancy candle holders.
I felt safe, and at home, for
the first time that terrible week. And
at that moment, when I finally felt safe, I knew that I would be okay. Maybe not everything
would be okay or the way I wanted it to be.
But I would be okay, on the
other side of the terrible thing that had happened to me. And I knew that I was loved and accepted, both
by my grandma and by something bigger than either of us that I could feel in
the big, dark, cool building around me.
And it may be that being part of a UU congregation can give you something of that same
feeling: that there are places that are safe, where you can be at home, even
when things are difficult or terrible at home or at school (or work) or out in the larger
world. It may be that growing up UU will
help you know that you will be okay, that you have the resources to make it
through even something very terrible, no matter what. It may be that being UU will help you to
always remember that you are loved.
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