Elizabeth
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.
As soon as those twins became little people, as opposed to babies with no control of their location, they disliked the nursery. It was too loud, too busy, too rambunctious, too unknown to them. They'd sit with me in church so quietly, not willing to be even asked if they'd rather go to the nursery. Dear God, Thank you for giving me children who actually are capable of being sort of quiet in church. And pipe cleaners. Really, really, thank you for pipe cleaners. Amen.
When they were about two, my quiet, sensitive, clingy, scared of church people twins, wouldn't leave my side in Gable Hall. Sometimes they would let me slip out of their clutches but they'd grab onto Andy's knees once mine left their grip. Once, they just grabbed onto the khaki pants knees next to me and clung for a bit, thinking it was their dad. Moments later, one looked up and saw it was Fr. Remer's knees, not their dad's. Everyone looked towards us as my children wailed. Fr. Remer announced with a chuckle that he took all responsibility and that he was doing his best to counsel my screaming children. Andy and I had a running joke for a long time, that any khaki pants would do for knee clutching, as long as the twins didn't look up. Dear God, please help my children start to be comfortable in my church community. Amen.
At about three years old, we were buddies with Sam Nail, also a three year old. My whole family watched him one Sunday as he jumped off the lowest step outside church. Then the second step. Then the third step. Then the fourth. The four Becks, two still quite meek, gawked as tiny Sam jumped from the top step. He was immediately the twins' hero. Dear Lord, Please let my children grow into having at least one tenth of Sam's spunk and spirit and independence. Amen.
At about four years old, Sarah Lozano, also four, was singing for crowds in Gable Hall. She sounded like an angel…. and she was about the funniest kid ever. My family would talk about how brave she was. Dear God, How is it that a four year old can sing better than I do, or ever have? Are my kids going to be good singers? Um. Amen?
By five or six years old, most of the twins' church shyness was done. When St. Margaret's hosted Wednesday night potlucks, we'd get there early and stay late. My children wouldn't want to leave as long as any friends were still there. Those potlucks were epic. After dinner, the great majority of children ran barefoot circles around Gable Hall like a great swarm or herd. A herd of sprinting, Episcopalian children. Those potlucks were wild. Dear God, Please help me help the twins find their shoes soon. I need to get the baby home to bed. Amen.
The only thing more freeing for my kids than St. Margaret's potlucks was St. Martin's Parish weekends at Kanuga where bands of feral children roamed between cabins and crafts and luaus and games and gatherings. My most vivid prayer from a Kanuga outdoor church service: Dear Lord, please don't let my children fall into that creek until after communion is over. Amen.
My friends at church taught my children Sunday School, took them on pilgrimages, cheered them on through the years, and held me up as one by one my kids flew out of my nest. Many of my friends from my St. Margaret's and the potluck days are still around. Some have moved. Some have left the church or aren't regulars anymore. Dear God, Thank you for all the years of grand community you have given me at St. Martin's. Amen.
My church community looks different now. Some of that difference is pandemic induced. Some of the difference is evolution. My church pal Nancy and I talked on the phone every morning for the first 4 or 5 months of the Pandemic. As we've grown used to the Pandemic, we've weaned ourselves down to just a couple calls a week. My St. Monica's guild meets mostly by Zoom, and we are valiantly trying to stay connected and active in outreach as the Pandemic stretches on. My Rite 13 Sunday School class is extraordinary because of the smart middle schoolers we zoom with, and because a new friend, Caroline Carter, our seminarian, shares teaching time with Jennifer, my church friend for almost 20 years, and me. Listening to Caroline in our Zooms is a breath of fresh air, a holy moment every time she speaks. She is a gift. Currently, the most unexpectedly rewarding church activity for me is a committee, Re-visioning Christian Formation. We have a LOT of really smart and interesting people at our church who are committed to growing our church, helping it evolve. I'm proud of the work that group is doing. Dear Lord, thank you for what St. Martin's still means to me, different than my olden days, but fresh and new right now, a wonderful faith community. Help me appreciate how it has changed and what it is growing into. Amen.