So I've been thinking for a while about the Communion of Saints. At a very basic level, it's the idea that there are spiritual foremothers and forefathers that have played a part in the creation of our community and our person -- that the people who came before us, by living their faithful example, directly shaped who and what we are. And they remain with us still, in our shape and in our actions.
But even longer than I've been thinking about the Communion of Saints I've been thinking about the women in my life who have been spiritual examples. So here's a short, by no means complete, list:
My grandma Glo, someone who you didn't have to know very long to know she was special. I remember that when we'd stay the night with her and she'd tuck us in and pray out loud for us. In the mornings, she'd get up early and sit by the big windows at the back of the house and read her Bible. And on days when she could convince us to get up early enough (which got harder as we reached teenage years) we'd sit with her and she'd read aloud to us. When we were there on Sundays we'd have to go to church with her and Grandpa. I hated it because the minister was always crying and screaming about something, but I got to sit next to Grandma and we'd sing harmony out of the shaped note hymnal. Grandma was never afraid to do what seemed right to her. I remember that once she said something like 'if women were supposed to be quiet in church that men had better be doing what they were supposed to, and if they didn't then it was up to the women to do it right and the men would just have to accept it'. Coming from a time and place where the literal interpretation of the Bible was strong and motivational, this seemed so shocking to me. But she was right.
My grandma Huckelberry, a woman I didn't get to know very well. I remember sitting at her kitchen table with her, and sticking my head under her skirt at the grocery store, and being in the house with her during her time in hospice care, and that's about it. But I know her through my mother and aunts. I know she was precise and giving. I know she was creative and good with words. I know she loved music. Most importantly I know she taught my mother about Jesus and I'm so grateful for that.
My aunt Becky, my doppelganger. Aunt Becky manages to be strong and analytical while being totally tenderhearted and in love with God. She and God talk like they're friends. She is wise and smart and thoroughly goofy. She gives her talents to God, playing and singing and encouraging. Getting to sing with her during Grandpa's memorial is something that will always be sweet to me. I've felt God's presence many times singing with her. She gives of herself even when it isn't easy, and her generosity astounds me.
My aunt Nancy, my mother hen, always providing a place to nap and escape the world/school. Aunt Nancy probably doesn't know how influential she has been to me, but she and her Bible study/devotional bag have been. When I was starting to think about seminary I remember driving with her across town and talking with her about what I thought God was telling me. I remember she said to me, "It sounds like God's telling you to do something and you'd better do it."
My sister, the only one who understand why and how I'm so weird and why I have trouble knowing whether or not a knife is dirty. Emily is patient and serene and logical (especially with difficult people) when I want to kick and scream at something(/someone). She is strong and funny, and a good mother and wife. She doesn't talk negatively about her husband, and I know that isn't because he's perfect but rather because she's chosen to present a united front to the world. She's concerned about raising their son to know God. She's concerned about her wider family's well-being. When we talk about God I always learn something and am always surprised (in a good way) by the way she looks at things.
And lastly, but in no way leastly, my mother. She has done, and continues to do, a lot of great things for me. However, one of the best things was dragging us to church, even when we didn't want to go. Even when she didn't want to go. Starting and making us be in the youth choir. Making us go to youth group. Making us go to VBS. Making us know God. She continually prayed with me when I didn't understand how God could love me. So many times. She bravely handled my teenage existential/spiritual crises and never once did she make me feel as though it was unimportant (because though it seems silly now it was so important then). She is strong, stronger than she knows I think. She has big girl panties and knows how to put them on. She is fiercely protective. She wrestles with God, but never lets go. And I know its hard sometimes. She is resilient. She is determined when she has to be and a zany perfectionist the rest of the time. She's loving and caring and steadfast. And she's the main reason I know Jesus.
These are members of my Communion of Saints, my lineage, and quite frankly I find it hard to measure up. And the thing is I meet new members all the time. I am totally in awe of some of the friends I've made here at BUSTH. Their depth and wisdom and courage are so inspiring and intimidating to me. Through my interactions with them I can say without question that God is real, alive, and good. And I suppose that's what the communion is for--to draw us all closer to the One who wants every bit of us, the inspiring, uninspiring, and the ordinary. The One who wants to transform us into saints ourselves.
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