Humans of St. Martin’s

I was diagnosed officially in July 2020 with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is a developmental disorder that affects communication and behavior. I was diagnosed later than normal, at 31 years old. It has been said that women are diagnosed later than men. I was put on epilepsy medications in October 2020, with a more formal diagnosis in January 2021.

Give thanks in all things. Golly that has been tough in the seemingly endless months of this past year. So much isolation, distancing, and yearning for connections that most of us often took for granted. Hugging a loved one… visiting someone in a hospital… worshiping together indoors… sharing a restaurant meal without fear of contracting or spreading something deadly. Surely we have all struggled to maintain our sanity in our exile, whether as families exhausted by too much enforced togetherness, or as single folks, like me, trying to dispel loneliness while living alone. How glad I am that even in isolation I’m finding much to give thanks for.

I am a cradle Episcopalian and grew up attending the Episcopal church that 2 of my great grandfathers helped begin. I attended church and Sunday School regularly until I went to college and then Okinawa with my husband, Bert, for his military tour of duty. I went occasionally during that period of time until we came home to the States and settled in Sandy Springs. We had a new baby boy and knew we needed to begin to start “shopping” for an Episcopal church where we would feel at home.

“Where are you from, Texas?” It was 1979 and my family had just moved from Booneville, Mississippi, a small town about 2 hours south of Memphis, Tennessee to Bailey, Colorado, an even smaller town in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and about an hour drive from Denver. It was the question kids would ask me, trying to make sense of my heavy southern accent. I guess Texas and the South were one and the same to those kids.

I’ve been a member of St. Martin’s for many years. I love that St. Martin’s is a church home for my son, Ted. It warms my heart when he asks to go to Sunday School. Recently, he said “I bet Ms. Charlotte wonders where I am”. I know that Ms. Charlotte is thinking about all the kids in the nursery.

My family and I started attending St. Martin’s shortly after the birth of my first child, Sophie, who is now 22. On our first visit, I spied the friendly face of Helen Ingebritsen who I had previously met in a La Leche League meeting. I remember feeling instantly at home and very welcomed. Helen and I remain fast friends and I’ve acquired many more through St. Martin’s.

I’ve been a member of St. Martin’s for a loooong time, since 1962, I think. But not so long, since John and I stopped attending church for about 20 years beginning in the late 1980s. Why? Don’t remember, but what is important is the love and rejoicing at my return in 2007 for John’s funeral. It was as though I had never been away, but had been in your hearts all along.

The Episcopal Church has published a few books that catalog the saints and people of importance in our faith. These include Lesser Feasts and Fasts; Holy Women, Holy Men; and A Great Cloud of Witnesses. They offer a date of remembrance, the story of the person/people, and a collect to pray with them.

Fried Chicken, potato salad, lima beans, black-eyed peas, green beans, sliced ham, homemade biscuits, banana pudding, and tables full of special dishes and desserts on a warm spring afternoon would sometimes greet us after service at First Baptist Church where I grew up. At least once a year we would have a pot luck to gather and enjoy a cup of sweet iced tea and community.

Several years ago I was helping to organize the acolytes prior to a confirmation service here at St. Martin's – a service that was being officiated by Bishop Robert Wright. One of my children was a candidate for confirmation and the other two were serving as acolytes. About 45 minutes before the start of the service, Bishop Wright asked to speak to all of the confirmation candidates.

I joined St. Martin's when my twins were babies. When they were baptised, I was invited to a St. Margaret's Guild meeting, a group of 20 or more women who had little kids like I did. In the middle of our early years of parenting, we were all looking for community. Dear God, thank you for finding me this supportive and joyful church community. Amen.

I remember my mother teaching me to pray. As I pressed my palms together, she sat by my bed and coaxed me to say, “Dear God,” or something like that, then she’d say, “Who do you want to pray for?” And I’d say, “Please bless Daddy and Mur (which is what we called my mother) and Chrissie, and Helen, and Jack.”