Responsibilities - Pt. 2

Many years ago when Tater was about 3, I decided to visit a predominantly Black church in the same neighborhood as our church. It’s difficult to sort through my motivations for doing so. Honestly, part of it was that I love gospel music. Part of it was that I was a bit disenchanted with our church at the time. And part of it was that I was vaguely aware of the “whiteness” of our family’s world, and I wanted to expand Tater’s horizons.

So one morning after T's 8:00 service, Tater and I walked down the block and attended another service. I was wearing a jean dress, no nylons, and flat shoes. As usual, I brought Tater Cheerios to eat and little cars to play with during service. When we arrived, people stared at us. The ushers greeted us cautiously. We were led to a pew where I proceeded to unpack all Tater’s food and toys and spread them out next to us. Next thing I knew, a stern usher lady with white gloves and a white cap descended upon us and told me to put everything away. I was embarrassed. I was intimidated. I wanted to go home.

After that experience, I decided it would be a cold day in H-E-double-toothpicks before I tried that again. But if you really think about it, what happened at that church was MY OWN FAULT. I was incredibly disrespectful. The congregants of this church were dressed impeccably, and I had shown up in a jean dress and bare legs. The children of this church (even the little ones!) sat reverently behind the pastor with their hands folded, yet I had commandeered one-quarter of a pew with my kid’s stuff and assumed that my toddler’s eating and playing during service would be excused.

People hadn’t stared and frowned at me because I was white, they had stared and frowned because I was PRESUMPTUOUS AND RUDE!

Whenever we accept an invitation, I make sure to dress appropriately. If I don’t know a lot about where we are going or who is hosting, I usually ask around so I can prepare myself and my children to behave according to expectations. Yet as a guest in this church, I hadn’t bothered to attend to these simple courtesies.

Though this experience was painful, it was invaluable in my life in general, and it was part of God’s plan to shape me into Spud’s mama, even though at the time I had no idea I would be Spud’s mama!

When I decided to visit churches again this fall, I went about it differently. I dressed respectfully. I humbly asked questions about the traditions of the church and its worship service. I observed the expectations of the congregants and did my best to conform.

But as I mentioned earlier, I’m not perfect. I’ve made embarrassing mistakes (walking down the center aisle of M’s sanctuary after service has started is a no-no, in case you’re wondering). When I make mistakes, I apologize profusely, and then I forgive myself. And I find others forgive me too.

Peace.