Still in Mission: Update from Intown Collaborative Ministries

By CHLOE COOK, Glenn Memorial Member and Director Of Operations at Intown Collaborative Ministries

Born out of and supported by faith-based congregations including Glenn Memorial UMC, Intown Collaborative Ministries mobilizes our community to serve our neighbors who are most vulnerable: those experiencing homelessness and hunger.  Intown operates two programs: our food pantry and our homeless outreach program.

At the pantry we provide each guest with a week’s worth of groceries for their family or household when they visit. In addition to responding to the immediate need of hunger, our pantry is a space where relationships can begin to be built with a focus on long-term and sustainable solutions.  In 2020, we served over 3,500 people at the food pantry.  In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, we tripled the number of days the pantry was open, distributed 300% more pounds of food than the previous year, and served 140% more families.

All of this was and continues to be possible because of our community of supporters.  We have 8 volunteers in the pantry each day it is open, many of whom are members of Glenn.  We can offer a variety of food and meet the growing need in our community because of food drives.  Since March, Glenn has hosted food drives during the Souper Bowl of Caring, vacation Bible school, the pumpkin patch, Advent, and more!

As we look into the future, Intown is exploring ways to safely offer more choice to our food pantry guests.  We are also looking towards safe distribution models, such as contactless delivery, for our guests who are extremely vulnerable or unable to afford to travel to the pantry.

Intownʼs Homeless Outreach Program is based on the Housing First philosophy – everyone is ready for and deserving of housing right now.  We work with individuals experiencing homelessness within the City of Atlanta, using a harm reduction and person-centered approach.  Our team of social workers, case managers, and peer specialists meet folks where they are – under bridges, in encampments, on the street corner – and help the individual address his or her barriers to permanent, stable housing.  The key outcome of the homeless outreach program is sustainable permanent housing for clients who have experienced homelessness.

Last year, the Homeless Outreach Program moved 139 individuals experiencing homelessness into their own home.  We saw a 20% increase in the number of individuals accessing housing services.  While this is in part due to the increase in need in the community, Intown was also able to grow our team in 2020.  Since June 2020, we added 9 team members and new programs to address housing instability in the trans community, individuals with substance use issues, and individuals in repeated contact with law enforcement.

The Homeless Outreach team, with its deep trusting relationships with the members of our city’s homeless community, led efforts throughout the pandemic to ensure community members had knowledge, resources, and access to testing to keep safe.  In the coming months, the team will help with efforts to make the vaccine available to the community.

Dying for Lies, Living in Truth

 On Wednesday, January 6, 35-year-old Ashli Babbitt, Air Force veteran and business owner from Ocean Beach, California, was shot and killed by an officer of the Capitol Police as she attempted to climb through a shattered window and toward the House Chamber.

In an interview with a San Diego news station, her uncle, Anthony Mazziott Jr., said, with tears, that Ms. Babbitt “loved people,” and that she “served her country and loved it, and our democracy, and ultimately gave her life for it.”  Please pray for Mr. Mazziott and for Ms. Babbitt’s husband, parents, family, and friends in this time of profound loss and grief.

But let us be clear.  Ms. Babbitt did not die for her country or for democracy.  Ashli Babbitt died for lies.

Dig into this tragic death and Ms. Babbitt’s choices leading to the fatal moment, and you will find illusions embraced and allegiances misplaced.  Evil has a way of taking something good and twisting it until it is dead, or worse, deadly.  Ms. Babbitt’s love for people and country was twisted by QAnon conspiracy theories that resonated with her own suspicions and by lies repeated often enough to become credal affirmations.  Add to that a gathering of like-minded folks and some final words from her Commander in Chief, and devotion began its sprint toward death.

Ashli Babbitt died for lies.  Can you and I live in Truth?

Before we get to the big-T Truth, let’s start with the little-t.  So, the obvious: Check facts; read diverse sources; don’t share stuff online just because it FEELS true or, hey, it COULD be.  Distinguish between opinion and fact.  Don’t demonize people who disagree with you.  And before you tell me that those OTHER people do those same things, trust me, I know that.  Let’s all acknowledge that words have power, and words repeated often enough take root and bear fruit, healthy or destructive.  And yes, we are all capable of lying or passing lies along.  Can we try not to?

Now, the big-T Truth.  For me, that is the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I think it’s time for a revival.  And if that conjures for you images of a big tent and repeated refrains of “Just As I Am,” I’m fine with that.  Just be sure it’s a really big tent with room for all of us.

I watched with disgust Wednesday as rioters carried signs and placards bearing the name of Jesus.  We can’t forbid such use of Christ’s name, but I can certainly challenge it.  Jesus doesn’t look very comfortable in a QAnon T-shirt or, for that matter, wrapped in an American flag.  Jesus didn’t lead those rioters to that moment; they dragged him along for the ride, using his name to clothe in holy garb their own anger and fears.  That’s nothing new, of course; it’s been a popular Christian practice for a couple of millennia.  It’s amazing, isn’t it, how much God looks and thinks like you or me?

Let’s go to the tent.  Let’s read the Bible.  Let’s listen to people we don’t normally hear.  Let’s search our souls.  You and I are sinners saved by grace, but sin keeps nudging at us, doesn’t it?  The old ways are not easily escaped.  We can fool ourselves (Not a racist bone in MY body); we can deflect (I’m not perfect, but you’re not so great yourself); we can mistake knowledge for righteousness and ignorance for faith.  We’re human.  But the good news is … we’re human, just a little lower than the angels, and God has chosen to meet us in the perfectly human Jesus.  Look to him.  Watch Jesus.  Where might he lead you?

As the news interview with Ashli Babbitt’s uncle neared its end, he said, “I wish we could all come down and figure out how to get along”—a sentiment we’ve heard or spoken how many times?  Yet, here we are, of course, still haunted by, still enraged by, still frightened by, still fighting over, our differences of class, race, opinion, or politics, to name a few.

Howard Thurman said that “hatred often begins in a situation in which there is contact without fellowship” (emphasis mine, and with gratitude to Connor Bell and Mindy McGarrah-Sharp for the reference).

Thurman wrote those words long before the echo chambers of social media allowed us to segregate comfortably in our neighborhoods of ideas, but truth is truth.  While there is online “contact” and trolling aplenty among those who disagree, there is less “fellowship” than ever.   And hatred grows.

I really appreciate Thurman’s use of the word, “fellowship.”  It’s a good church word.  Can we perhaps recover some fellowship in our big-tent revival?  Singing together, praying together, (and for each other), listening to the Word of God, maybe even listening to each other.  This isn’t rocket science (though, in all honesty, it might be more challenging).  To gather in the tent is to strive for that which I truly believe 99 percent of us want—to “figure out how to get along” in a just, loving, and caring community.

Before the Pandemic slowed us down, we United Methodists were ready to divorce over issues of sexuality, rites, and rights, and, more than likely, that break-up will proceed once we can get back together long enough to go our separate ways.  But, in the meantime—and even if/when division happens—I hope we’ll agree to gather for the revival.  The ugliness of these days needs to be tamped down, and who better to do that than the Holy Spirit?

Now, the truth is our revival doesn’t really require a big tent.  It can be virtual, this revival; it can be one congregation gathered with another from a different geographical or ideological neighborhood; it can be a few folks together for prayer and Bible study; and it can start with you, alone with Christ, considering the state of your own soul.  The revival is an invitation to know Truth and to live in that Truth.

And this is Truth—that God loves us, and we are called to love.  Simple enough, isn’t it?  But we can only discover the fullness of that Truth as we let go of the lies that deceive, divide and destroy, and that takes honesty, prayer, faith, and grace.  Revival.

Jean Paul Sartre once said, quite perceptively, that “hell is other people,” but so too, the Scriptures make clear, is heaven.  The difference?  I believe we can best find the answer in the big tent.  Together.

In Christ,

Rev. Mark Westmoreland

Support Glenn Church with End of Year Giving

There is still time to make your final 2020 contribution to Glenn.

It has been a challenging year, but our vital ministries for and with our members, community, and world have continued. Your faithful giving, as always, makes that work possible. Thank you also for gifts to our Good Samaritan Fund that has allowed us to offer immediate help to families and individuals in need.

Please consider what you can do now before the year ends, then choose one of the following options:

Online

• Click Here

• Click the “Give Now” box

• You can then make a one-time donation or set up a recurring donation.

Text to Give  

• Simply send a text to the number (833)795-0325 with the amount you wish to donate to the operating fund typed into the message space, then press Send.

• You will receive a text reply with a link. Click the link, which will take you to a giving screen (processed via Vanco) with our church name and a giving template.

• Enter your name, address, email address, method of payment details, and confirm the gift amount in that template.

• You will receive a receipt by return text to your phone stating the amount donated to Glenn Memorial UMC.

• A receipt also will be emailed to you if you complete the email address line.

Bank Draft

• Log in directly to your banking institution and create a bill-pay payment to Glenn Memorial UMC.

• Use the church address:

  • 1660 N. Decatur Road, NE, Atlanta, GA 30307. Your bank will send payment directly to the church.

• Please indicate in the memo field of the bill payment where to post the donation.

By Mail

• You can mail your offering to:

  • Glenn Memorial UMC – Finance Office
    1660 N. Decatur Road, NE
    Atlanta, GA 30307

Remember that any mailed donation for 2020 must be postmarked by December 31 to be recorded for this year.

And one more reminder:

Have you recorded an estimate of giving for 2021? This, too, is vitally important as we finalize our operating budget for the coming year. You can do this right now online HERE, OR you can mail the card sent you earlier to the church, OR you can call Pam Gwinner at (404) 634-3936, ext. 102.

Thank you for your faithfulness to Glenn Memorial United Methodist Church and our work in the name and love of Jesus Christ.

In Christ,

Rev. Mark Westmoreland

In the Bleak Midwinter

Dear friends,

The Advent/Christmas season is often a time of joy and peace with friends, family, and church.  But here we are in 2020 with a global pandemic separating us from friends, family, and church and for so many of us who have experienced the death of a loved one, feelings of grief and loneliness surface with each carol or greeting card.

        While we cannot gather in person for our traditional In the Bleak Midwinter – A Service of Grief of Hope, we invite you to come together via Facebook Live on Wednesday, December 16, 7:00pm.  This service will be a time to virtually gather with others who may feel that all the hustle and bustle of this season can be too much to bear.  We’ll share in prayer, song, Scripture, and a short message as we acknowledge the struggles in our lives that make being jolly and merry the farthest things from our hearts and minds. On one of winter's longest nights “in the bleak midwinter,” we’ll seek comfort and hope in the midst of this season.

        As a part of this virtual service, available to watch anytime after 7pm on December 16th, we invite you to share a photo of an Advent/Christmas memory that brings you comfort even in grief.  No names or comments will be included in the slideshow – simply images of joyful memories.  Text or e-mail the photo to Susan at spinson@glennumc.org.

        We, your pastors — as well as our Lay Ministers — will be logged on together on December 16th. We are also as close as a phone call if you ever want to talk.  Finally, and most importantly, we want to remind you of the hope we have in Jesus Christ.  His words of comfort and guidance, the gift of his life, death, and resurrection, and promise of coming again.  The depth of the emotion of the Gospel is expressed beautifully in a verse from “O Holy Night”:

The thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees, Oh, hear the angel voices
O night divine, O night when Christ was born

        May your Advent and Christmas season be rich with warm memories of those we have loved as we prepare once again for the hope of the Christ Child to be born in our hearts and lives.

We Count - More Election Season Encouragement from the Racial Justice Caucus

We are all about instant gratification, and election results are no different. We all want to go to bed at a decent hour on November 3 knowing how the election turned out. But this year is different; because of the volume of votes to be counted, we must assume that there will be no “election night” winners.                

Every vote counts, and it will take time to count every vote, partly because of the number of votes expected to be cast, but also because of the labor-intensive processing of absentee ballots. Many states do not even start processing absentee ballots until Nov. 3, while other states accept mailed in ballots for several days thereafter. So it will take some time, and that’s OK. We want accurate results, not fast results.

The media, candidates, and even your friends and family may holler, complain, and demand an end to the counting. Resist their impatience, and educate them if you can.

We can go ahead and remind the Georgia elected officials who supervise the counting and certification of the vote, as well as any legal challenges to election procedures, that Georgia voters want certainty in election results, not speed.

Here’s a draft request you can send to the officials (it seems abrupt because their email message boxes have space limitations):

Please make the following commitments publicly, either through a press release or on video.

• I commit to listen to and amplify the voice of all my constituents.

• I commit to use my authority to protect every vote and refuse to accept election results until all votes are counted.

• I commit to defend the voice of the people of Georgia, as evidenced by their votes,  when presenting Georgia’s election results.

Protect our democracy.

Please send the message today, and feel free to share it with your friends. Email it to Gov. Brian Kemp at  https://georgia.gov/message, Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger at  https://sos.ga.gov/cgi-bin/email.asp, and Attorney General Chris Carr at  http://carrforgeorgia.com (scroll down the page).

Because every vote counts.

Election Day, and I Believe

When I voted this morning, I ran into three Glenn Church members, not in line to vote (no wait when I voted) but serving as poll workers.  Mackay Asbury is the poll manager there at Druid Hills High School; Ellen McFee checked me in; and Dan Macfarlane was monitoring and assisting voters.

And that is why I feel optimistic today.  The backbone of American representative democracy is people like Dan, Ellen, and Mackay, who do what is right and good in their communities on election day and, for that matter, every other day, too.  They are our neighbors, and today they are serving us and the highest ideals of our nation.  That’s big, folks, and it reminds me of what I believe, and it gives me hope.

Call me foolish, but I truly believe in the goodness of Americans because, through my years, I have come across a lot of really good Americans.  I don’t agree with all of them, but I have seen the good they do; I have seen them care for neighbors and strangers.  I believe in them, not necessarily their political opinions or passions, but them.

I know; I know.  These are ugly days.  And I am as tired of it all as you.  I have grown weary of listening to politicians—yes, our president among them—who have swapped any pretense of statesmanship for fear-mongering, belittling insults that we wouldn’t tolerate from our children, and divisive pandering—and, yes, neither our president nor his party holds a monopoly on any of the ugliness.

But in the midst of the noise and the fears of what the days ahead might bring, I am hopeful, because good people keep doing good things.  I know folks here at Glenn who work faithfully and tirelessly to feed the hungry, while others are tending to the needs of the incarcerated, and others are taking real action against racism, and others are seeing to the needs of the elderly who cannot afford essentials, and others, in the midst of a pandemic, are quietly checking on their neighbors and their fellow church members.  My preacher word for all of this goodness is grace.  Grace is care shown for the other; grace is acceptance of the neighbor; grace gives.  And grace abounds, still.  Just look around and count the gracious people.

On the national level, an unprecedented 100 million Americans voted early this year, while millions more of us ventured out today to our local polling places and the familiar faces awaiting us there.  I confess that at heart I am a skeptic when it comes to the natural inclinations of us human beings, but today I see millions of reasons for hope.  I believe that, despite all our grousing and nitpicking and finger-pointing, we Americans take this citizenship stuff pretty seriously.  There are still shared values that guide us, and despite the ugliness at the fringes, we are a people who believe in doing good for each other.

So, today, before the votes are counted, I sing America, and I sing gracious people like you who serve every day, and I sing good people like Ellen, Dan, and Mackay, who guard quietly and faithfully the rights you and I claim on this election day 2020.

In Christ,

Rev. Mark Westmoreland

Together Called: A Season of Stewardship

Dear friends,

It seems a long time ago now, but back on January 26, as we celebrated our 100th anniversary as a church, I preached on the ties that bind. I spoke of those invisible cords of love and grace that connect us to one another and to all the saints who came before us at Glenn. They fill our sanctuary, those cords; they are holy ties.

Now, nine months later, I wonder: Do the cords remain unbroken?

This long season of COVID has rattled our assumptions, challenged our habits, and threatened our livelihoods and people we hold dear. We’ve been forced to work, study, play, and worship in ways we could not have imagined a year ago. We’ve worried more, gotten on each other’s nerves a little more, and we’ve had to think very intentionally about the stuff that fills our days. What is important? What is necessary? What is good? Good enough? Best?

And the church? Through it all, we have worshiped together—differently, yes—but we have worshiped. YouTube and Facebook are our chapel and sanctuary, but we gather still, praying, singing, and hearing the word preached. Zoom is our meeting room, where committees and mission groups do their vital work and groups meet for study and fellowship.

Through it all, we have focused on what is good and best. We’ve confirmed young people in the faith, prayed for the sick, welcomed new members, and baptized babies. We’ve spoken out for social justice and helped families in need; and our giving has fueled vital ministries in our community and around the world. Much has changed, but what is important has not.

So, those cords? I believe they’ve been tested and proven.

No pandemic can change who we are. You and I are the church, together called to be hope in times of chaos, to speak salvation to broken lives, and to serve God’s realm of justice and wholeness. Over the next four weeks, as we prepare to renew our personal and financial commitment to God’s work in the world, we will ponder what it means to be “together called.” This year’s campaign will be a little different, of course, but Christ’s work still calls for our faithful support. And the church? In God’s grace and power, we remain nothing less than the body of Christ for the world, a holy fellowship grounded in love.

In Christ,
The Rev. Mark Westmoreland,
Senior Pastor

Decisions, Decisions

Decision making during a pandemic is challenging.  Never knowing if we are making the right choices for ourselves, our families, our communities.  Physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual health all needing tender care in these interesting times. As parents/guardians of children have decisions to make about visiting the Pumpkin Patch, attending the drive-thru Trunk or Treat, safe options for trick or treating, and attending outdoor worship, this old Kids @ Glenn newsletter article for the 2015 archives seemed apropos:

Does anyone happen to remember that time I waxed eloquently about reflecting on the type of mother I wanted to be one day?  I even preached about it in my first-Sunday-back-to-work-sleep-deprived-state-of-new-motherhood sermon. I remember that I made some correlation to how we each have to constantly ask ourselves what type of Christian we want to be.  

What I know now that I didn't know then is that I am probably two dozen different types mothers in any given day!  I'm the cuddly, loving mom who will of course read one more story. The silly-sing-songs-about-everything mom.  The impatient, frustrated mom. The exhausted-I-just-want-you-to-go-to-sleep mom.  The I-wish-you-would-wake-up-so-I-could-actually-have-time-with-you-today mom. The hippy "we don't watch tv" mom.  The modern "here - entertain yourself with my cell phone" mom.  The healthy meal-planner mom.  The bribe-the-child-with-a-cookie mom.  The schedules and routines matter mom. The flexible and it'll-be-a-good-experience mom.  And these were all just this afternoon!

And so, yes, I do still believe that we can and should reflect on the types of parents (grands/teachers /guardians, etc.) we want to be.  But we also need to remember that our relationships are fluid and ever-changing. And that's okay.  Jesus himself once said, "blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God"  (Clearly, he spoke old English...), as well as saying he came not to bring peace, but a sword. So confusing. Truth be told, it is probably going to be as hard for our children to figure out what types of parents we were to them (hopefully with the help of caring therapists!) as it is for us to figure out what Jesus really was like during his time on earth and what God was, and is, and ever will be.  And that's okay.  Because relationships are fluid and ever-changing.  

Sometimes I need God to be my cuddly mom who will bear with me for one more story. Sometimes I need God to be the schedules and routines matter parent and other times need the flexibility. Oftentimes, I need grace that's as sweet as the promise of a cookie. When we try to describe our relationship with God, I hope and pray that it is as complicated as describing our relationship with our children.  Because it doesn't mean that God is changing in who God is.  It's just this simple:  we are beloved children of God...with an ever-changing relationship with our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. 

Grace and Peace,
Rev. Susan Pinson
(the mom who gave her child pieces of candy corn in between bites of peas just to have her eat SOMETHING for dinner tonight!)  

How To Vote in Georgia

By GLENN CHURCH’S RACIAL JUSTICE CAUCUS

If you have access to the internet, you can find a lot of information and get ready to vote online. Go to the Glenn website for a complete guide to voting. This guide is intended to help those who don’t have access to the internet.

First, decide when and how you are going to vote. To vote in the November 3 election, you must be a registered voter, and you can either

1. Vote early at designated precincts October 12 through October 30 OR vote in person at your precinct on November 3 OR

2. Vote by mail with an absentee ballot.

VOTE IN PERSON

EARLY VOTING starts October 12 and continues through October 30. For information about early voting locations, including dates and times when polls are open, call your county registrar (numbers for DeKalb County and Fulton County below).

ON NOVEMBER 3, you can vote at your home precinct from 7 am until 7 pm. You will probably vote at the same place where you usually vote, but some locations have changed because of COVID-19. For information about precinct changes, call your county registrar.         

IF YOU VOTE IN PERSON, take your photo ID and expect very long lines and wait times, as election workers will clean equipment frequently and ask you to maintain safe distances from other voters and poll workers. Do not wear clothes or hats with the names of candidates or parties or other political content or controversial language.

VOTE BY MAIL

You may have already received your ballot from your county registrar or an application for an absentee ballot from your county registrar or a voting rights group. If you have your ballot, skip down to the heading “How to Vote Your Absentee Ballot.”

How to Get Your Absentee Ballot

If you are planning to vote by mail and you have an application for an absentee ballot, you should fill it out and return it to your county registrar immediately (see below for addresses).

If you want to vote by mail and have not received either a ballot or an application for a ballot, you can request an application for a ballot from your county registrar in writing, providing the following information:

• Your name

• Date of birth

• The address at which you are registered to vote

• Temporary out of county address to which the ballot should be sent (if applicable)

• Type of election (general)

• Date of election (November 3)

• Your signature, including the date of the request.

Mail your request to your county registrar (address below).

How to Vote Your Absentee Ballot

First, remove the perforated stub at the top of the ballot.

Next, mark the ballot with a blue or black pen (don’t use a felt tip pen or Sharpie), and color in the oval to the left of the name of the candidate you want to vote for. Fill the oval completely, and don’t make stray marks on the ballot. Ballots marked with an X or a checkmark run a very high risk of being rejected.

Once the ink is dry on your marked ballot, fold it and place it in the white envelope and seal it.

Now place the white envelope (with ballot inside) inside the second, yellow and white, pre-addressed envelope, and seal that envelope.

On the envelope flap, sign the “Oath of Elector” (that’s you) on the line labeled “Sign Here.” Sign your name as you usually do; elections officials will compare it to your signature on file to confirm that you are the person voting. Then print your name on the line below and to the left of the signature line that says “Printed Name of Elector.” If someone helped you mark your ballot, that person must date, sign, print name, and check the reason for assistance in the lower left-hand corner of the back of the envelope.

Now you are ready to deliver your ballot to your county registrar. The registrar must receive it by 7 pm on November 3. If you mail your ballot, affix two first class stamps to it and mail it at least two weeks before election day.

You can also deliver your ballot directly to your county registrar’s office or to one of the many secure dropboxes in your county. Call your county election officials to find the dropbox nearest to you.

QUESTIONS ABOUT VOTING

Your county registrar or the Georgia Voting Hotline (number below) can answer your voting questions.

DEKALB COUNTY BOARD OF REGISTRARS     
(404) 298-4020    
4380 Memorial Drive       
Decatur, GA 30032-1239        
                    

FULTON COUNTY REGISTRATION & ELECTIONS                         
(404) 612-7020
Absentee Ballot Division               
130 Peachtree St SW, Suite 218
Atlanta, GA 30303

Georgia Voter Hotline 888-730-5816

Before and Someday, After

By CLAIRE ASBURY LENNOX, Glenn Church Member

The last weekend in the blissful world of hugs and high fives and not caring if people breathed on you, we went two for two on Glenn Confirmation activities: day retreat on Saturday, Sunday School the next morning.

Spring was just peeking out, and early on Saturday we gathered yawning at North DeKalb Mall and into the bowl of its community garden (which I had driven past countless times but never entered) to move mulch, pick up trash, and—to the delight of my forever Glenn Youth heart—belt “Bohemian Rhapsody” on top of what I believe was ultimately dubbed Mulch Mountain. In this first year of parenthood, I savored getting out of the house and chatting with my fellow Friends in Faith, all members of Glenn’s young adult group. Besides being in slight disbelief that I don’t technically count as a young adult anymore, I felt such deep gratitude for the gifts and graces they have brought to our church family and for the chance to get to know them better. 

And these seventh graders! Talkative, engaged, smart, silly. I usually feel in the upper echelon of lame around teenagers, but not these folks. We drove to Chick-fil-A and sat in the brisk sunny wind of the patio, the only place that would hold us all, laughing and dipping fried goodness in Polynesian sauce.

Back at the YAAB (Youth and Activities Building), we wrote a creed for Confirmation Sunday, the students deciding how they would frame the Holy Trinity through their own words and ideas—a practice we’d gone through on my Glenn Confirmation retreat 19 years before. And we played “Telestrations,” definitely my favorite version of Telephone by far, passing notecards and pens around the cluster of couches, chuckling and groaning at one another’s artistic (in)ability as we struggled, on the clock, to figure out the original word.

The next morning, we gathered back in the same room for our lesson on grace. Connor had us all take off our shoes and socks, go outside to the YAAB yard, and walk on the frosty straw dew in (mostly) quiet contemplation. Anyone who walked down North Decatur Road for those ten minutes was probably confused. But Connor wanted us to have the experience of really getting up close to something that we pass by a lot, that’s always there (the yard), but that we don’t always notice or pay deep attention to. Like God’s grace.

Why am I recounting all this when it happened six months ago? I’m not sure. I think because part of me can’t believe it’s been half a year since I last set foot inside our church buildings that mean so much to me, and more importantly, spent quality in-person time with the people who make up our community, old friends and new. I’m almost still processing that on this early spring day, everything seemed set and solid—even knowing that COVID was lurking, no way it would take over with such magnitude—but by the end of the week, I would be leaving my office for a still-unknown period of time.

And I’m glad that some of my last days in that “before” time, outside of a small family bubble, were spent with these people. With Glenn people.

I’m grateful that I still feel close to our community of faith, and for the many folks who are working doubly hard to make connection possible in the age of COVID.

But I think back to that last in-person Sunday morning, bare feet gingerly pressing into the cold wet ground outside the YAAB, recalling pumpkin unloadings long past and experiencing up close a place that I would typically walk by fondly, but without a second glance.

How many times since then and now have I wished to delve deeply into the (extra)ordinary gatherings of worship and fellowship that I never expected to go without? To take off my metaphorical shoes and sink down into the messy, joyful details of community?

A lot. A lot of times.

I’m not sure how to end this piece since we don’t yet know how and when any of this will end. Nothing will feel fully satisfying until we can safely reunite and rejoice.

On Sunday mornings these days, I watch my toddling, babbling son—who, last time we were in worship, was still content to be held and rocked—smile and wave at the musicians and pastors on the laptop screen, in the midst of milk and toys and goldfish.

It is small, but it is something. A grace-filled reminder of who still surrounds us, a reminder of what’s to come.

Frenetic

A wonderful Glenn mama friend texted me this morning:

"How are you right now?  (I can't answer general "how are you questions anymore so I try not to ask them either.)"

What a great question!  My answer, I will disclose here in this quasi-public sphere:

"Love it!  Yeah, I am holding steady with overall frenetic world/family.  How about you?"

fre·net·ic     /frəˈnedik/     adjective

1.    fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way.

Pandemic.  Hurricanes.  Wildfires.  Another senseless shooting of a black man by police.  Protests.  Riots.  Murder.  Another senseless shooting of a child.  Protests. Riots.  Murder.  Political conventions that dominate the media with a dizzying pendulum of hope and despair; pride and disgust, no matter which way you swing. 

Another Zoom call dropped.  A different username and password needed for every. single. site.

Students and teachers and parents and administrators frustrated.  

Confusing news reports as politics and media meddles with research.  Worrying about our church members and my loved ones in the hospital.  Worried about healthcare workers and other frontline workers.  Grateful for a telemedicine appointment and a prescription, but skeptical it's going to help my minor ailment, as I know good and well that my poor sleeping and eating right now is what is keeping me from my best health.

Yet...
Children laughing with delight as they beat me in another race with sidewalk chalk start & finish lines.  Delight in the bag full of snacks and lunch provided by the county school system at the bus stop.  Pride in my self-care as I unsubscribe from e-mail lists and social media that do not bring me joy. Teaching my kids to do the same with toys and clothes we don't need.  Nothing quite as cute as a toddler scrunching his nose and holding up a junky plastic toy and saying in a high pitched voice, "Donate?!"  (I think there's a book turned verb about this -- Marie Kondo?!)

Text threads that take days to respond to the correct one.  Odd and sometimes hilarious texts from friends and families that were meant for someone else.  At least it seems I'm not the only frenetic one these days! A few passing moments with my spouse to reminisce about B.C. (before COVID) and talk about our lofty dreams of a date night when this, too, finally passes.

And so I stop and breathe.  And make that breath into a prayer.  Breathe in...God be with me.  Help me listen and focus and be present and forgive.  Breathe out...God protect those in harm's way.  God - please help us end the racism and violence and vitriolic divisiveness that is seeping into every area of our lives.  Bring healing to those who are sick.  God, there is not enough time nor words to pray for all the heartache of the world.  Help us, God.  Lead us, Lord.  I don't even know what to pray.

My prayer is interrupted by my desire to "fix it" and I switch mental gears and go ahead and work on advertising our upcoming Praying in Color virtual workshop.  I start drafting an e-mail on my laptop and then, once again, interrupted, "MOMMY!"

Kids rush excitedly into the dining room turned (hopefully) temporary office:  "We did it!  Teamwork makes the dream work!  High five!"  Pride and delight at finishing a puzzle brings me back to the present moment with gratefulness (and guilt) that my little corner of quarantine life isn't so bad.

With love and prayers from one frenetic life to yours!
Grace & Peace,
Rev. Susan Pinson

Let Sunning Dogs Sit

Bathe, shave, attend meetings, write sermons, preach sermons, and take the dog out: This is not an exhaustive survey of my worldly duties, just the ones that recur with striking regularity. For the moment, I’ll focus on the last of that list: taking Daisy outside before she goes inside.

I’ll admit it isn’t a particularly taxing chore. All I have to do is escort her, maybe carry her down the steps, and she’s good to go. It’s so easy, in fact, that I’m moved now almost to tears at the thought of it. You see, Westmoreland dogs haven’t always been so cooperative. There was ZuZu, for instance, a surprisingly fleet-footed Shih Tzu/Poodle/something mix. Do you perchance remember Gayle Sayer’s famous mantra, “Give me 18 inches of daylight”? If dogs could get tattoos, ZuZu would have had those words on her chest. Given even a few inches of unleashed daylight, she was gone, leading the whole family in a neighborhood chase.

Daisy is different. Unless egged on by a squirrel or chipmunk—so elusive, those chipmunks—Daisy prefers a nice saunter. She wades through the grass a bit, never straying too far, then, if the sun is cooperative, she finds a comfortable spot to sit and warm her bones. As her escort, I do the only thing I can in such a moment; I find a nice spot of my own—but in the shade, thank you—and take a seat to watch.

Yes, your minister leads an exciting life.

After enjoying the sun’s warmth for a bit, Daisy lifts her nose to the breeze. I watch and wonder. How does she make sense of the scents that come her way? Does she sift and sort—animate, inanimate, canine, human, edible, decaying (i.e., something to wallow in later)? Or does she bask in them as she does the sunbeams, letting them soak into her soul, the many scents blended, a gift in glorious simple complexity? For a moment, the sunning dog, inhaling life, is pure praise.

And for a little while, I’m with her, basking in her basking from my shady spot. Be still, my soul; be still my soul; be still my soul. The breeze bears wonders. Be still. And rejoice.

In Christ,

Mark Westmoreland

Keeping Up with Glenn Youth

By REV. CONNOR BELL

Well, not to sound cliche, but it’s been tough going during the past few months. Gatherings don’t look like they used to, and some wonderful Glenn Youth traditions did not get to take place as expected this year. We did not get to take our eagerly anticipated Spiritual Life Retreat this year. Our Service trip to Epworth by the Sea was postponed until next year. And we never got to do those typical things we get to do over the summer- play multiball, go to a Braves game, sing together in worship. There is surely much to mourn. 

And yet, there’s been a joy. There have been heartfelt goodbyes, celebrations, laughter, board games, and wonderful celebrations of being the body of Christ in the world today. There has been too much to say it all, but consider this list of the top 10 noteworthy youth events to be a summary of this past summer (or a “Summery,” if you will):

COVID-19 Check-ins
In the weeks following the sudden turn of events in March, we scrambled to make sure that our Youth had a way to connect during the week and check-in with one another via some new program called “Zoom.” Jad Taylor, our Assistant Youth Director, took the lead in providing a devotion and space for everyone to process what was happening. 

Virtual UMYF

Shortly afterward, we started having our usual UMYF meetings virtually. We learned how to watch videos, split into small groups, and even play games together to help each other connect and grow. 

Youth Sunday service
In May, we did the impossible and hosted our annual Youth Service entirely virtually! Youth lead us all in singing praise, praying together, and affirming our faith. Members of our Senior class gave reflections on what Glenn has meant to them over the years, and there was not a dry eye on Facebook Live. 

Senior Banquet Celebration

The Mallards and the Maughans coordinated a wonderful celebration of the class of 2020 as they graduated. We made gift baskets for all of the graduating seniors at Glenn, and these were delivered to their homes. We hosted a Facebook live event where we had senior slideshows and parents got to wish their seniors well in the next phases of their journeys. 

Service Week
Our first in-person event since the pandemic began, our service week took place in July. All participants were masked and socially distanced in the outdoor classroom, and we wrote letters to Glenn members, prayed together, painted murals to hang in Zonolite Park, and played several games of family feud. 

In-person Hangouts

After talking about the interest in safely getting together with some of the youth, we decided that we could have pre-registered youth gather during the week to safely meet in the outdoor classroom. Kevin Lazarus took the lead in leading the lessons while providing space for everyone to check-in with each other and safely gather face-to-face. 

Confirmation

We had both a drive-in and virtual confirmation service for our 12 students who decided to be confirmed this year! It was an unforgettable experience, and a beautiful reminder that committing to the Church means committing to the body of Christ, not a building. 

Staff Changes

Though she no longer worked directly with Glenn Youth, Rev. Blair Setnor’s departure from the Church was a tough goodbye. We were able to celebrate her and the many ways that she has discipled the students at Glenn Church through the years. 

Lot’s of staff changes happened this Summer! Jad Taylor and Kevin Lazarus were both commissioned and have started their careers in full-time ministry. Seul-bin Lee will still be around at Glenn as she finishes up her final year at Candler, and we welcomed two new Glenn interns who will be assisting in Youth Ministry: Connor Perry and Emily-Elizabeth Castelloe!

Reviving Youth Council

We blew the dust off those old bylaws, and are now starting back our Youth Council! This will be an important way for Youth and Adults to shape our ministry moving forward, and I am looking forward to working alongside everyone!

Youth Kickoff!
Though it hasn’t happened yet, we are looking forward to our Youth Kickoff on August 23rd at 6 PM. This will be a virtual scavenger hunt (with gift card prizes!), and a great way for the youth to have fun and reconnect after a long and strange Summer. 

Thank you for reading, and please be in prayer for our Church and ministry as we move forward. There’s a lot more to say, but I hope that this serves as a highlight reel for the past few months. I have personally been inspired by how our community has rallied to uphold one another during a time of physical separation. It seems that even virtually when two or three are gathered in God’s name, the joy of Christ is present with them. 

Rev. Connor Bell
Associate Pastor // Youth and Missions
Glenn Memorial UMC
cbell@glennumc.org

Just.Keep.Going.

“Let’s not get tired of doing good, because in time we’ll have a harvest if we don’t give up.” - Galatians 6:9 Common English Bible (CEB)

For over a decade, I have set aside a few hours at the beginning of the week to sit down at my computer and copy/paste announcements, download/upload photos of our children's ministries, and hope and pray for divine inspiration to share a word of encouragement, inspiration, or challenge for parents in our Glenn Church community.  Some of you will remember the old days of my Microsoft Outlook BCC list before MailChimp came along and even with improved newsletter platforms, there have been technical difficulties of font size, date errors, and the like.  I am grateful for each of you who actually open the e-mail most weeks when I know all too well the reality of overflowing inboxes and information overload.

Longtime subscribers may have noticed the trend for me to use song lyrics or quotes from other authors when I'm not feeling particularly insightful.  I enjoy the easy expression of a few haikus or a Top Ten list.  Usually I only encounter a writing slump or writer's block for a week or so.  Thanks to Google search, I can easily share from the "Kids @ Glenn" archives and it's been fun to look back at my own parenting journey.  I have been honored to host guest writers and amplify the voices of those that inspire me through the years.

Enter the COVID19 pandemic and each time I finally sit down and open my computer on my dining room table with either the sounds of arguing or giggling children distracting me, all I seem to find as I stare at the screen is confusing chaos that the uncertainty, fear, frustration, worry, guilt, and exhaustion of living through a pandemic brings in unique ways to each of our lives.  It feels offensive to give a word of encouragement.  A reminder to myself or to you to find joy in the moment and give thanks for the family time quarantining brings to many of us seems grossly dripping with privilege.  Talking more about anti-racism resources runs the risk of performative allyship or too little too late.  Moving on from focusing on anti-racism seems like yet another offense of white privilege to compartmentalize systemic injustice.  Local Mom boards are full of debates of virtual school, in-person school, hybrid models, and the inequality of each option - that for some parents, teachers, and especially children are not viable choices at all.  It feels as though every.single.choice we make - from ordering take-out to going to the beach to screentime for the kids to childcare options to what kind of mask we wear is loaded with layers of politics, privilege, and parenting-guilt.  

And here I am again staring at the computer with no profound thoughts on how to frame all of this nor how to wrap it up with a proverbial pretty bow.  So like so many of us - whether you are a frontline worker for your job or you are in the trenches of parenting 24/7 with no end in sight, I am going to remind myself and you to just.keep.going.  Whatever ways you are continuing in or just joining anti-racism work - just.keep.going.  For hard relationships that need lots of boundaries  - just.keep.going.  For the day in/day out parenting of tiny ones to teenagers who need our full attention to help shape their experiences of this wild time in history that is changing all of our lives - just.keep.going. 

For our spiritual lives and faith journeys that feel so different than ever before as we no longer have the tradition of showing up to a worship service each week with the solidarity of support from a church family of all ages & stages of life but instead have pivoted to virtual and different expressions of church life - just.keep.going. 

It's okay to not be okay.  It's okay if this is a wonderful reset of your life from the grinding and brutal packed schedules many of us lived pre-COVID.  If you have joys and thanksgivings to celebrate - please reach out - as we'd love to celebrate together!   If you're lonely, overwhelmed, or paralyzed with guilt or fear - please reach out, as we'd be honored to listen, pray, or curse together. 

It's amazing to look back and see the ups & downs of my own life and ministry - and yours - chronicled through 12 years of Kids @ Glenn e-mails.  Starting "lucky" year 13 takes the cake on the most unique yet; and even if COVID culture has created a longterm writer's block for me, I commit to being here each week for love, prayers, and community even when words fail me.

Grace and Peace,
Susan

Green Notes: Help Your Community and the World with Low-Cost Solar

By LYNN SPENO, Glenn’s Environmental Committee Chair

Still stuck at home and wanting to find ways to help with environmental issues? Have you been curious about solar power and want to see if solar would work for your home? A citizen-led Solarize program offers you a free assessment if you request it before September 30. Glenn’s Environmental Committee encourages you to take a look at the offering. Solarize Decatur-DeKalb provides homes, churches, and businesses within DeKalb County the opportunity to leverage the power of group purchasing to save on the cost of new solar technologies and clean energy products, including modern, high-efficiency solar panels, battery storage systems such as the Tesla Powerwall, and EV charging stations for homes and businesses. The assessment can be done completely online using aerial photos of your roof from databases like Google Maps and the system can be sized to your needs based on your electric bill, so that the system can pay for itself in your electric savings.

Georgia Interfaith Power and Light, Decatur Environmental Sustainability Board, Environment Georgia, Sierra Club of Georgia, Solar Crowdsource, and several local volunteers have come together to make Solarize possible. The more homes and businesses that sign up for solar, the less the solar costs for all who participate. Financing is available, and you can sign up for the community solar discount and still claim the federal tax credit for the solar installation. For more details and a free solar assessment with no obligation visit: www.solarcrowdsource.com/campaign/decatur-dekalb-2-0/

What is Juneteenth?

By KAREN LEARY, Glenn Church’s Racial Justice Caucus Member

“Hold those things that tell your history and protect them.” –Maya Angelou

If you have heard anything about Juneteenth, you may know that it falls on June 19 (today) and that it has sometimes been called Black Independence Day.

That’s a start. Here’s a video introduction. The short story is that on June 19, 1865 word finally reached enslaved people in the most remote corners of the Confederacy (Galveston, Texas) that they had actually been freed 2 ½ years earlier by the Emancipation Proclamation. The celebration of that announcement became an annual event, even through the oppressive times of Jim Crow and segregation, gaining momentum after the Poor People’s Campaign in 1968, and eventually becoming a holiday in more than 40 states, including Georgia.

Juneteenth is a time for families to gather and tell their stories, play games, sing, dance, have parades, and, of course, eat together. Try some of these Juneteenth recipes; barbecue and red food and drinks, symbolizing the perseverance of enslaved and oppressed people, are central to a Juneteenth menu.

Juneteenth is also a time for reflection about the contributions of ancestors who built families, communities, and a culture in a racist society. KLRU in Austin, Texas produces a "Juneteenth Jamboree" program every year to celebrate some of those achievements. You can also  participate in Sweet Honey in the Rock’s Day of Remembrance at 8 pm on Friday.

You may have heard about a push to make Juneteenth a national holiday. This is where we come in, white people. Juneteenth should not be a Black holiday. The emancipation of enslaved people and the contributions of Black patriots to American culture and economy are not Black history. It’s American history, and all Americans should learn it, celebrate it, and work to fulfill the promise in the Declaration of Independence of equality for all. An easy way to start is to  sign this petition to Congress to make Juneteenth a national holiday. The harder next step is to realize the ways in which we still do not have equality for all, and we need to talk about that.

A Glenn Memorial Newcomer’s Perspective: Reaching Forward to What Lies Ahead

This isn’t what 2020 was supposed to look like.

When the year began, my wife and I were looking forward to connecting with the Glenn Memorial community-- going to church events, meeting people for lunch or coffee, and beginning to get involved. In the sports world, my alma mater was poised to make a deep run in the March Madness NCAA men’s basketball tournament. “Finally,” I hoped, “this will be our year!” Memorial Day weekend would mean kicking off the summer season with the live music, delicious food, and creative atmosphere of the Decatur Arts Festival. At least, that’s how I thought 2020 was going to go. Of course, none of these things actually happened.

Although 2020 has been unusual, every year people’s plans are disrupted in substantial ways. Sometimes it’s because a relationship didn’t work out. Other times, a person struggles with school or is laid off from his or her job. Tragically, people’s lives can be cut short by accidents, surprise illnesses, or other unexpected calamities.

We all have preconceived notions of how we think our lives are supposed to work. But life is messy, and circumstances seldom go exactly as we planned. How we respond to unfulfilled dreams is an important part of what makes us human. Sometimes we need to let go of rigid ideas about how life is supposed to go. It doesn’t mean that we necessarily have to abandon everything that we thought we knew. We can take some aspects of our past, integrate them into our life experience, and use them to inform our future paths.

Paul was a man with great ambition. In Philippians 3, he wrote of how he was: “circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.” (vv. 5-6). But Paul’s unexpected encounter with Jesus threw his lifelong plans into disarray. Rather than dwelling on his past goals and harboring bitterness and resentment about what might have been, Paul humbled himself and allowed God to use his vast knowledge of the law and scriptures in a new, transformed way. “Forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead,” the apostle wrote, “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (vv. 13-14).

We are living through a period of history that is both extraordinary and deeply troubling. While the times in which we live are challenging, they provide us with an opportunity to rethink old assumptions about how life is supposed to work. Like Paul, we can learn from our past without being constrained by it. Let us pray and reflect on areas where we might need God’s help to see beyond old ways of thinking. We can ask God to give us a renewed perspective and look for past disappointments to be reborn in new ways. When we do, we can begin to grasp the future—full of hope and possibilities-- that God intends for us.  

Scott Santibañez DMin

Regular Attendee, Glenn Memorial UMC

Do not call to mind the former things, or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new, now it will spring forth; will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:18-19 (NASB)

Emma Grace and the Mashed Potato Mountain

The News from Doolittle Creek | 05.19.2020 22:53 | Emma Grace and the Mashed Potato Mountain | Written by Anne Lynch | First Line Written by Emma Grace Reece

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Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Emma Grace, and she was so brave. She didn’t shy away from anything or anyone and took on new adventures daily. Today was no different.

Emma Grace hailed from the Glenn Memorial tribe of the “Kingdom of Unitedmethodista.” She had been marked by their holy waters at a young age and was a leader among her people. However, due to the unwelcome reign of Sir Coronavirus, which barred her from meeting her followers in person, she devised a new way of communicating with her people.

She called her plan, “Operation 6.” On the onset of shelter-in-place orders, Emma Grace established a satellite outpost. Not only is it command central, but it takes on many forms such as Velma’s ice cream stand to keep under the radar. Emma Grace can safely connect with her people and keep them guessing at the same time. Bravery and brains go hand in hand, and Emma Grace knows the perfect balance.

This afternoon, while outside inspecting green berries in her purple butterfly twirly skirt, Emma Grace got a secret message from Ariel. A mysterious woman, one that hasn’t been seen in these parts of town, delivered something to her mailbox. She was wearing a silver ring with a purple jewel, but that’s all Ariel could see. Ariel had been swimming in the pool and popped her head over the edge just as the woman was leaving and felt sad that she didn’t have any more details.

“Don’t worry, Ariel,” said Emma Grace, “I’ll check the mail. Maybe I’ll find a clue!”

And find a clue, she did. It was a AAA
magazine sent to an Anne Lynch at a P.O. Box in Decatur. The cover featured a majestic mountain made of mashed potatoes. With flights grounded across the globe, travel guides were creating new locales that wanderlust roamers could find in the comfort of their own home.

But who was Anne Lynch? Glenn Memorial folklore often spoke of a woman named Anne who counted the membership some 18 years ago. She was a writer they said and wrote the weekly bulletins announcing what songs to sing and what prayers to pray. She collected Beanie Babies that sat in rows along her bookshelves and watched her while she worked. She came from the era of Betty Jo, Amy, Lester, and Cynthia, among others. And shared the building with Queen Joan and Queen Katy, who ruled over all of the children.

Emma Grace took one look at the magazine cover, and she knew she must transform like a butterfly. She went into her headquarters and emerged in a red dress with a white collar.

“EG to the rescue!” she called out as she threw her hands into the air.

“Activate shrinkage!” she commanded.

EG, the superhero mini version of Emma Grace, scurried up the front stairs and into her kitchen. Within seconds she had created a stairway to the counter by opening drawers one at a time. Once up, she twirled over to the stove where she saw it in all of its glory.

Mashed Potato Mountain. At first glance, it looked like a huge pile of lumpy ice cream, but the scoop-shaped terrain didn’t fool EG. She was going to claim the mountain for America, and she was going to claim it today.

Step by step, EG, climbed the mountain with flag in hand. When she reached the summit, she planted the flag firmly at the peak and smiled down upon the lands below. It was a glorious day to be at the top!

Later that evening, when she had transformed back into Emma Grace, she told her mom and dad all about her adventures. About how you can touch the berries, but not eat them. About Ariel’s message and the magazine from Anne. She threw her hands up in the air and explained how she was able to shrink, but she kept one secret for herself.

“Only I know how to unshrink myself,” Emma Grace said with a smile.

In closing, Emma Grace and her counterpart EG both await new clues in her headquarters’ mailbox. She’s ready for adventure, are you?

* * *

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About the Author:

Anne Lynch worked at Glenn Memorial United Methodist Church from 2002-2005 as the Membership Administrative Assistant under Betty Jo Copelan. Her favorite part of the week was collating bulletins in the library with Lillian Kelly, whose fingers moved so quickly your jaw would drop in sheer awe. During her time at Glenn, Anne became friends with Laura Reece, who would park in the Youth and Activities Building parking lot and cross through the Church School Building to get to Emory’s main campus for classes at Candler. Anne left Glenn to earn her Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at the California College of the Arts in San Francisco. She currently resides in Decatur, Georgia, and works at Georgia Tech. This story, inspired by Emma Grace, is a part of a larger collection called, “The News from Doolittle Creek.”

The Good News According to Roger … or Facebook … or Instagram … or Zoom … or You

          This is how long ago it was: My friends and I were waiting to eat dinner in a Western Sizzlin’.  It was a larger-than-usual Friday night crowd at the Sizzlin’—and the truth is even an average Friday night at Western Sizzlin’ was pretty big—so I wouldn’t have noticed Roger’s arrival at all if he hadn’t yelled.  Nor would I have known his name was Roger had he not told us.  “HELLO!” he shouted.  “MY NAME IS ROGER.  ACCEPT JESUS CHRIST AS YOUR LORD AND SAVIOR AND BE SAVED TONIGHT!”  And with that, Roger left the way he had arrived, leaving my friends and me to return to our talk of movies and sirloins and to ponder privately the state of our souls.
          So, I’ve been thinking.  With the reopening of more restaurants, maybe it’s time for Glenn Church to make a splash.  It only takes one person per restaurant, after all, so imagine the impact we can have in just one night.
          OK, maybe not.  But if not Roger’s style of evangelism, then what?  At the root of the word is evangel, which means “good news.”  Do you have any?  Have you found in your Christian faith some hope or comfort or purpose or strength or love or wholeness or connection?  Can you share that good news?
          Have you stopped and thought about your story lately?  You have a good one, you know.  And moving through it is the grace of God and the Holy Spirit.  Do you see?  Yours is a holy story, and in that story someone else might just find a word they need to hear—a good word, some good news, even.  Give your story some thought; maybe even put it on paper.  In fact, I invite you to do just that, then share the story with me; it might make a great church blog entry.
          And if you’re not up to shouting an invitation to salvation in a Western Sizzlin’ (Are any still around?), then invite someone to try the church you love.  These days, that’s pretty simple.  Share the social-media announcements about our virtual VBS, or invite someone specifically.  Let folks know about your Sunday School or Bible Study Zoom sessions.
          And Worship?  Now is a great time to invite folks.  Many people are uneasy about visiting a church for the first time (I know I was).  But now?  If someone is looking for a low-stress, low-pressure chance to give church a try, well, it doesn’t get any better than this.  Online worship is perfect for us introverts.  So, share the links to our Sunday and Wednesday services.  Maybe even tag someone.  There’s a person like me out there just waiting.
          Share, tag, link—had Roger known about those options, he could have saved his voice.  Share an invitation by sharing a post.  Who knows?  Maybe 2020 will be remembered as more than a tragic year of pandemic or as the year the economy tanked or as the strangest school year in modern history.
          Someday we might just refer to 2020 as the Great Introvert Awakening.


In Christ,
Rev. Mark Westmoreland

Requiem for a Mountain Divine

          This is not a typical column for me, not very pastoral or even preachy.  Instead, I want to invite you to consider a small newspaper clipping, two double headstones in a country cemetery, and four people you’ve probably never heard of.  If you’re looking for high drama, this isn’t the tale for you, but if you want to ponder for a moment a moment in time and how our stories unfold through generations, then take a few minutes as you shelter in place, and join me.
          First, the clipping.  I found it among the many historical tidbits gathered by my father through the years.  There was no date, just a photo of a young man whose pose was almost as stiff as his collar, accompanied by the short caption, “Rev. J. L. Anderson: The Methodist Minister of Ellijay Who Was Recently Drowned and Whose Body Is Still Missing.”

They had me at “Methodist Minister of ElIijay.”  So, I did a little hunting and learned at least part of the story of the mountain preacher who died too young.
          In February 1905, 25-year-old John L. Anderson was a Methodist preacher serving four small mountain churches in Gilmer County (Interestingly, the churches were affiliated with the northern Methodist Episcopal Church, not, as were most Georgia churches, the M.E. Church, South).  During the week, Anderson also taught and served as principal of the Oakland Academy in rural Gilmer County.  His wife of less than a year, Adella Brown Anderson, was a teacher there, too, but she was home now, awaiting the birth of their first child.
          Early on a Monday morning, February 20, Anderson left his home and headed on horseback toward the school.  He never arrived.
          In a story headlined “Divine Drowns in the Cartecay,” The Atlanta Constitution reported that Anderson’s horse was found later that morning riderless near the ford of the rain-swollen Owltown Creek, “snagged on the shoulder, very wet [with] sand in his mane and ears.”  One of Anderson’s gloves was in the creek, and an overcoat was found farther downstream where the creek meets with the larger Cartecay River, but there was nothing more.  Despite the efforts of a 100-man search party, Anderson’s body remained lost.  Did the horse lose its footing in the swift water?  Did it bolt?  Did Anderson fall from his mount in the dim light of early morning?  There were no answers for Adella, who, 10 days later, gave birth to a son.
          In late April, a young boy checking his trout line in Shippen’s millpond was shocked to find a corpse lodged against a log.  According to the local Ellijay Courier, the clothing and items found on the body identified the deceased as John.  There was a bruise on the side of his head, probably caused by his horse’s hoof, and the watch in his pocket had stopped at 6:55.
          After an inquest, the Courier continued, “a nice coffin was procured and the remains were given a decent, Christian burial at the Jarrett cemetery.”  The writer didn’t stop there, however, adding, with righteous flourish, that “the positive identification by a legal inquiry will forever set at rest the surmise and false, calumnious reports that were crawling from mouth in certain quarters like slimy snakes in a pond of filth.”  You and I can only guess the kinds of rumors that circulated after the young preacher’s disappearance, but I imagine the writer nodded with satisfaction upon penning that comment, and I’d like to think some folks in town nodded in embarrassment upon reading it.
          So far, I have found little about Adella Anderson’s life beyond John’s death.  I do know she lived many years as a widow, dying at age 90 in Phillipsburg, New Jersey.  Why she was in New Jersey, I don’t know—extended family?—but her body was returned to Ellijay and buried beside John in the Jarrett Cemetery.
          We know more about Adella’s son, John Lonzo Anderson, the child born 10 days after his father’s death, and in his story I believe we see the influence of his mother the teacher.  John Lonzo graduated from Harvard University in 1928 and wrote several children’s books, as well as a 1975 novel, Night of the Silent Drums.  Born of his lifelong fascination with the Virgin Islands, Night is a fictional account of an actual slave rebellion in 1733.  In researching the book, Lonzo learned to read nine languages.
          In 1953, to mark the 25th anniversary of their graduation, Lonzo’s Harvard class published a 1000-page (!) book of remembrances and updates.  Lonzo kept his submission simple, describing his post-Harvard life as “nothing that would be of interest to the Class.  I belong to no organizations and hold no offices, titles, or honorary degrees.  I have remained, as nearly as I could manage it, a complete free-lance, and I have had a wonderful time.”  You’ve got to like the guy.  Lonzo went on to describe his wife, Dean, as “my twin … an artist” and a fellow free-lancer. 
          Adrienne “Dean” Adams was a fine artist indeed, enjoying considerable success as an illustrator, mainly of children’s books (You can find some fine examples of her work online).  She was twice a runner-up for the Caldecott Medal.  Born in Fort Smith, Arkansas, a year after Lonzo, Dean studied at the University of Missouri and the New York School of Design.  She and Lonzo married in 1935.  I picture them as two kindred bohemian spirits, enjoying life and creating beauty.  The Halloween Party, one of the children’s books they produced together, begins this way:
          Faraday Folsom was on his way to the Halloween party at  the artichoke farm.  It felt funny being
inside a costume.
          Suddenly two figures flew between him and the moon.  Two witches!
          Faraday Folsom was afraid to leave the road and follow the witches—so he did.
          Dean and Lonzo had no children but the children touched by their work, and those were many.  Lonzo died in 1993 in San Marcos, Texas, and Dean lived on to see a new millennium, passing from this world in Rolla, Missouri in 2002 at age 96.  Lonzo and Dean now rest with John and Adella in the Jarrett Cemetery.
          And so a family ends with two double headstones in a country cemetery.  But now, holding a few pieces of their stories, we remember.  “Let us now praise famous folks, our ancestors in their generations.”
          The air we breathe is thick with stories.

In Christ,
Rev. Mark Westmoreland