Through the church, my dad experienced relationships of belonging and family that transcended race. One such relationship was between my dad and Tom, a white man and fellow Southerner who understood the blatant, overt racism of the Deep South. Their genuine friendship probably wouldn’t have happened in their earlier years or in the Jim Crow South. Through their proximity to each other, they became real friends. Unafraid to discuss race, they held courageous conversations over boiled peanuts and my mom’s potato salad. Church was a place where my father experienced peace and a place where he glimpsed Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s version of Beloved Community.
When dad became sick, the congregation’s care continued. The pastor prayed for and visited him in the hospital. The congregation’s women knitted prayer shawls for him and sent Christmas cookies. Deacon John gave my dad communion in the care facility, until his passing.
Thanks be to God that my father became accepted and embraced as family by those who – unlike him – were born outside of the U.S, white or northerners. Faithful friends from church, CNAs and nursing staff were with my father until the end. For that, I have reason to celebrate.
This message is excerpted from “From grief to celebration” by Judith Roberts in the May/June 2024 Gather magazine.
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