By Kerry Williams
This year is a banner one for me, with my best friends from growing up all turning 50 along with me. I’ve been looking forward to celebrating the friend I’ve known the longest in my life by going back to where I grew up and becoming the fourth daughter in their family again, just like when I was little. The time with all of them was fantastic because I could plug back into a sense of belonging that is so core to my being, I don’t consciously know it’s there. I got a short time to experience the duality of being a wizened adult while feeling like my child self around people who love me just as I am, knowing all the awkward missteps I’ve made all along the way. My favorite time from the birthday festivities actually came as the party was wrapping up. My friend had hosted a wine tasting in the late afternoon, and as evening fell, there was a crew ready to continue the celebration at a local bar. Since I was staying with my friend’s older sister and didn’t have a car, I knew that getting myself out of there when I was over socializing would be an issue. The magic was: so did my friend. We locked eyes, mine saying “I love you and wish you so much fun on your birthday” and hers saying “I know this isn’t your thing so please stay back because you certainly don’t have to prove you love me by coming to a bar.” It was an instant and genuine understanding when I gave her a hug good night and settled into her sister’s comfy couch. My friend’s two sisters are three and six years older than her, respectively (the oldest my favorite babysitter growing up). As I was the first-born child in my family, it always felt like a grand social experiment to fit myself into their family dynamic alongside the youngest sibling. I always felt appreciated and vulnerable at the same time with the teasing and bossing around that is to be expected as the lowest in the pecking order. This night, though, as I hung out with my friend’s sisters and their friends, I was just part of the conversation (though I do still describe it as “getting to hang out with the adults.”) We talked about how our two families were the only Lutherans in the sea of Catholics (and a small smattering of Congregationalists) we grew up with, and the way that camp and youth group deepened our connections. The oldest sister said that she was searching for a sense of community like that, especially since the church we grew up in was part of the synod that has taken a stance against the LGBTQIA+ community. Along with the three of us Lutherans, there happened to be a former Catholic and a gay couple whose one husband was a rejected preacher’s kid, so there was no end to the various points of view that were brought up through the topic of religion, but disenchantment was a strong theme. How can an institution be trusted and how can a person hold the beliefs they were taught by leaders who let abuse and abuse of power run rampant? How can someone find belonging in a place that doesn’t allow everyone to belong? How can a religion uphold judging people based on their skin color or their sexual orientation or any other human quality? I piped up with the concept of Church 2.0, a reimagining of what people in this day and age need for their spiritual well-being, and I was so proud to say that I am part of a church that is looking forward creatively to fill the gaps in people’s lives on a metaphysical and also just plain physical level. The proudest moment, though, was when the gay man who was rejected by his evangelical father asked what kind of church I belonged to and started crying when he told the story of finding a UCC church when he lived in Oklahoma. He said he never knew that he could be welcomed for who he is, not despite who he is. Walking into that UCC church changed his life. He went from feeling rejected and just hoping for the miracle of being tolerated to being fully appreciated and loved by people of God. Seeing the emotion on his face and hearing how very much that experience healed him was profound, and I was so glad to bring the memory back and share it with him through his story. The evening moved on to the question of whether at least something bigger than ourselves exists, even outside of religion, but that show of emotion was so powerful that it reverberated throughout the rest of the discussion. Everyone who loves Pilgrim UCC needs to know that our existence matters, because we let others know that they matter.