In September, 2020, deep in the pandemic, I made an abrupt decision to leave Alabama, my home of 40 years, and move to a spot in the woods of Hillsborough, NC. I left behind a lifetime of work for racial, economic and immigrant justice. All my history and all my relationships in Alabama were in the rearview mirror.
I was unmoored, to say the least. I no longer knew the literal or communal landscape and lay of the land of my home. I no longer knew the politics, the geography, the history, the leaders. I no longer knew who to call, and no one had reason to call me, when there was a crisis.
I was no longer known. I no longer held the identities that had defined me to others and to myself: founding pastor of Beloved Community United Church Of Christ in Birmingham, and long-time leader in Alabama’s immigrant and racial justice movements.
I hardly knew where I was. I hardly knew who I was, without all these identities.
Given that I’m an introvert and we were still in the depths of the pandemic, it was an easy default to retreat into comfortable isolation, and to stay there, even after the lockdowns began to lift. That was easier for me than launching myself into places and situations where I was unknown, where I had to work hard to find connection, where I had to endure a lot of discomfort in order to rebuild community.
It was in such a state that I wandered into Homegrown: NC Women’s Preaching Festival in October, 2022, at Trinity Avenue Presbyterian Church in Durham.
I can still feel how my spirit lifted as I entered into the light, open worship space, looking out onto brilliant, fall treetops of old maple trees. I felt like I could breathe a little.
I sensed the joy of homecoming among many of the women there who had attended Homegrown in the past. They had missed each other. Being at Homegrown among those women helped me imagine that I might actually find community in North Carolina, that this might be a first step into becoming part of a quite diverse group of women who care for each other, keep up with each other, and support each other through the travails of life and ministry.
The preaching at Homegrown, 2022 was astonishing. I still think about Rev. Ginny Tobiassen’s sermon about the significance of wells in the ancient world—a matter of survival for travelers, an opportunity for building community or enmity with foreigners.
The music was also astonishing. The weaving of art, music, and spirit offered a balm, an experience of flight, a welcome respite from my heavy-laden heart and monkey-mind.
I thought I was done with church until then. Though I had been a preacher for decades, I had never fully appreciated preaching as a vibrant and urgently needed art form, ancient and ever-evolving, rooted in shared values, spoken aloud to heal, sustain and send forth a gathered community. The preaching I heard and the welcome I experienced at Homegrown 2022 gave me what I needed to venture into the community to find my place and my people.
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