Homecoming

There's a tradition in the little country church where I grew up. Every Memorial Day weekend former members and pastors are invited to bring their families back to McCroskie Creek Baptist Church for a reunion. The day includes the usual Sunday school and morning worship followed by a huge carry-in dinner and an afternoon service that begins with a memorial to the members of the church who are now deceased, with special recognition for those who have served in the United States military. This year Shirley (about 10 years my junior) led the memorial. She broadened the time of remembering to include living heroes in the church as well, naming their service in the church as having changed the lives of all of us who grew up in the congregation. She said this was a place full of people who always accepted us and welcomed us back no matter how badly we messed up.

Cora Lou said something similar before singing her solo during the worship service. She is more than a decade my senior. She said that this little church not only shaped and grounded her -- it is because of this church that her children, the next generation, who grew up far away, became the people they are. McCroskie Creek created a foundation for people generations removed.

Dixie said that the love and support that this congregation gives to her mother, Marg, who struggles with the effects of cancer and Alzheimers is what sustains her. Even on the days that Marg seems not to recognize her daughter as she thanks her for coming by, she remembers and talks about the church.

My great-neice Lily was baptized yesterday. Tommy (in his mid-70s) remembers when he baby-sat me! Susie tells me she is now retired, substitute teaching sometimes and tending her consignment booth at an antique store. Pat and Holly, whose band included guitar, mandolin, banjo, bass and great vocal harmony, were amazed to see my grown daughters and their children (they led music for church camp when my kids were young).

I spent the day in a dizzying time warp, a baby when I became part of that church, a grandmother when I returned. A welcoming community... that's what a church at its best can be... a spiritual home.