I went to a picnic today.
Boy, that sounds too much like a Twitter thing!
Anyway, this was a community picnic sponsored by a church on the West side of Anderson, my hometown. It wasn't a church picnic like some might think, for one church. It was for all churches to bring their people together to meet other churches and to include the community. About 20 people from my church came out for it on a hot humid Sunday afternoon.
A stage was set up and various people performed. Hot dogs and burgers were served with chips/crisps and cold drinks including shaved ice/snow cones and cotton candy/candy floss.
The kids were called together for a sack race and other games. I think I saw a bouncy castle.
I met Larry. He was sitting in the back of one of the big trucks that had brought in the tables, chairs and awnings. Larry had always wanted to travel and help people in other places. I told him I took great comfort in knowing that he was right here taking care of things at home. Later I met a guy who worked on the building of the church building I've always known as Bethany Christian Church. I'd never really thought of the workmen who laid the foundations in cement and then did the brickwork. The connection was made by a mutual friend who has worked at the credit union on that side of town for more than 30 years now.
I sat with people I hadn't known; a
woman from a nearby black congregation, and her adult daughter and son. Her son was in a wheel chair, interested in the events around him, but sagging in the heat. After a while, we realised we were in the sun, so picked up our table and shifted to the shade again. I was reaching for the end of the table when a large dark skinned man - we were all varying shades today - reached in to take my place. I asked if he thought he could handle it. His arms were big and he coulda picked me up with the table if he'd been so inclined. It was a fun and funny moment. The women of his culture are capable and could lift that table, but at an event like that, it was man's work and not respectful to watch a woman do such a thing.
It was good to get out and meet with people I have lots in common with, but wouldn't know it from just passing them in the supermarket or at a ball game. It reminded me of going to the Tiki Tane concert in Manukau on Waitangi Day in Auckland. Pakeha ( non-Maori) were in the minority and the prevailing culture was Pasifika.
I find such cultural displacement interesting most of the time. A sunny afternoon in the park is good. An intense encounter or misunderstanding would be uncomfortable.
As I drove over to meet some of my family for my brother's birthday party this afternoon, I passed some churches which would have been predominantly black. I wondered if I'd be welcome if I were to worship with them in one of their regular services. It'd be great to sit down in a Bible study with other woman, of various skin tones, and find our commonalities. The differences are more than skin deep. It would be too simple to categorise on that factor alone. I'm sure we'd find the commonalities would be many.
In a film, The Freedom Writers, a young naive teacher, finally seeing the lines drawn between her Latino, African American, white and Asian students, played the line game in her classroom. She asked questions and had the students approach the line if they could answer affirmatively to her question. Then they stepped back. Eventually it dawned on them, differences notwithstanding, they had many points in common too. All had lost friends to gang violence. Nearly all had been shot at. Etc. The boundaries between people started to fade.
Oh the suspicions we hold based only on what we see with our eyes and don't understand with our hearts. Everywhere I travel, I see, sense or am shown the lines drawn between people groups, tribal boundaries, borders, that include and exclude.
I went to elementary school less than 2 city blocks from the park where the picnic was held, yet I felt foreign in many ways. I made the effort to talk with new people, but it was an effort, not natural. It was worth it and I hope many people went away thoughtfully appreciative and more open minded, but how do we maintain that when we pass each other on the street and know only skin tone and economic indicators?
Boy, that sounds too much like a Twitter thing!
Anyway, this was a community picnic sponsored by a church on the West side of Anderson, my hometown. It wasn't a church picnic like some might think, for one church. It was for all churches to bring their people together to meet other churches and to include the community. About 20 people from my church came out for it on a hot humid Sunday afternoon.
A stage was set up and various people performed. Hot dogs and burgers were served with chips/crisps and cold drinks including shaved ice/snow cones and cotton candy/candy floss.
The kids were called together for a sack race and other games. I think I saw a bouncy castle.
I met Larry. He was sitting in the back of one of the big trucks that had brought in the tables, chairs and awnings. Larry had always wanted to travel and help people in other places. I told him I took great comfort in knowing that he was right here taking care of things at home. Later I met a guy who worked on the building of the church building I've always known as Bethany Christian Church. I'd never really thought of the workmen who laid the foundations in cement and then did the brickwork. The connection was made by a mutual friend who has worked at the credit union on that side of town for more than 30 years now.
I sat with people I hadn't known; a
woman from a nearby black congregation, and her adult daughter and son. Her son was in a wheel chair, interested in the events around him, but sagging in the heat. After a while, we realised we were in the sun, so picked up our table and shifted to the shade again. I was reaching for the end of the table when a large dark skinned man - we were all varying shades today - reached in to take my place. I asked if he thought he could handle it. His arms were big and he coulda picked me up with the table if he'd been so inclined. It was a fun and funny moment. The women of his culture are capable and could lift that table, but at an event like that, it was man's work and not respectful to watch a woman do such a thing.Oh the suspicions we hold
based only on what we see
with our eyes and don't
understand with our hearts.
based only on what we see
with our eyes and don't
understand with our hearts.
It was good to get out and meet with people I have lots in common with, but wouldn't know it from just passing them in the supermarket or at a ball game. It reminded me of going to the Tiki Tane concert in Manukau on Waitangi Day in Auckland. Pakeha ( non-Maori) were in the minority and the prevailing culture was Pasifika.
I find such cultural displacement interesting most of the time. A sunny afternoon in the park is good. An intense encounter or misunderstanding would be uncomfortable.
As I drove over to meet some of my family for my brother's birthday party this afternoon, I passed some churches which would have been predominantly black. I wondered if I'd be welcome if I were to worship with them in one of their regular services. It'd be great to sit down in a Bible study with other woman, of various skin tones, and find our commonalities. The differences are more than skin deep. It would be too simple to categorise on that factor alone. I'm sure we'd find the commonalities would be many.
In a film, The Freedom Writers, a young naive teacher, finally seeing the lines drawn between her Latino, African American, white and Asian students, played the line game in her classroom. She asked questions and had the students approach the line if they could answer affirmatively to her question. Then they stepped back. Eventually it dawned on them, differences notwithstanding, they had many points in common too. All had lost friends to gang violence. Nearly all had been shot at. Etc. The boundaries between people started to fade.
Oh the suspicions we hold based only on what we see with our eyes and don't understand with our hearts. Everywhere I travel, I see, sense or am shown the lines drawn between people groups, tribal boundaries, borders, that include and exclude.
I went to elementary school less than 2 city blocks from the park where the picnic was held, yet I felt foreign in many ways. I made the effort to talk with new people, but it was an effort, not natural. It was worth it and I hope many people went away thoughtfully appreciative and more open minded, but how do we maintain that when we pass each other on the street and know only skin tone and economic indicators?
Comments