God’s Country

Last weekend the Professor and I went to idyllic Greeneville, Tennessee, to visit family and to take part in the baptism of the latest family member, Wallace (aka “Quiet Wyatt”). It was a very special baptism in many ways, including the fact that Wallace’s father is the pastor at Timber Ridge Presbyterian Church.

I finally got a chance to hear Brian preach, and it was even better than I expected–and I had high expectations. I drifted from the church long ago, finding more spirituality in watching seeds grow and insects interact, turning soil, observing birds building nests. I found my fellowship everywhere, from the gas station attendant to the poetry professor to the elderly neighbor giving me advice. And I enjoyed some of the poetry in the Bible, especially the King James language, but Mary Oliver’s “Poppies” resonated with me far more than the Lord’s Prayer. I embraced the metaphors of faith, but the “organized” part of religion didn’t speak to me as strongly as the general principles. This glorious sky over their home is better than a prayer to me.

So you might think I’d be reluctant to welcome a preacher to the family. A Presbyterian minister no less. What do non-Baptists believe, anyway? But I instantly loved Brian. We had great conversations–and keeping a conversation going amid the chaos of the large farm family is no easy feat. It helped that we shared a love for a really well-written television show. Also, he has a very open and intelligent and fun way about him. And he has a really wonderful cousin and cousin-in-law. I’ve been wanting to hear Brian preach for years, and little Wallace’s baptism seemed a wonderful opportunity. Also, I wanted to see Wallace’s pirate booty.

We arrived Saturday night, and Brian and Cousin Sarah fed us from their garden, made us delicious ice cream, and then plied us with fancy wine and brandy. Wallace was a sweet little dear the whole night, and I even got to hold him.

The next morning, we went to church. I did not burst into flames upon entering, so that was a fortuitous start. It’s such a pretty little church, cozy and welcoming, and the congregation is very loving and supportive, and they have a huge youth ministry, and a lot of very dear, smart kids there.

The sermon was beautiful, personal, but applied to a universal, and I was deeply touched. I also loved Cousin Sarah’s lesson to the children. She said Martin Luther, when he felt lost, he would touch his forehead, where he’d been baptized, and tell himself, “I am a child of God.” The whole service was so beautiful. And yes, I sobbed through a lot of it. Especially when the service called for all of us to support this sweet little baby and help him through life, to stay on the right path, help him if he takes a stray step and falls. And to me, that is what family–by blood or by church or by the condition of being alive–is all about.
Yes, I am sobbing again.
We took lots of pictures after the service, which are up on Flickr. Here’s one of the Professor’s best. And here’s one I took of the proud family.

Thank you, Sarah and Brian, for sharing your hospitality and wisdom and love, and for letting us cuddle with sweet little Wallace, and for inviting us to be a part of his life.