Decades after I graduated, I took my high school nemesis out to breakfast. We had reconnected a couple of years earlier but had never discussed the trauma of those days.
Over croissants and hot tea, I told her I was writing my memoir and she didn’t look good in it. I asked her if she had something she wanted to say that would change my memory of those days and help me move forward. She did and I did as well.
That experience makes me wonder how we’ll look back on and move forward from these chaotic days in our political life.
Two and a half years ago, my husband and I took a tour of the U.K. Our group focused primarily on exploring and experiencing Welsh culture. The trip organizer had family roots in Wales and planned off-the-beaten-path activities.
On our first day, he arranged for us to meet Sian, a delightful local pastor whose ministry was her second career. She spent years as a teaching assistant while raising her two boys. But when she sensed a call to pastor, she traveled two hours to Cardiff, the capital city, to earn her degree.
Her story fascinated me because three small congregations near her home asked her to serve as their pastor as soon as she finished school. That is not how it usually happens in the States for women coming out of seminary.
When we arrived two years ago, Sian arranged a meal and a men’s choral concert at her church, then took us to see St. David’s Cathedral, an hour away. While we were there, she slipped a small wooden cross she had bought in the gift shop into my pocket. I carried it home and it has been beside my bed ever since, reminding me that our lives are more connected and larger than I often think.
I introduced Sian to a couple of my friends, Devita and Kristin, over Zoom. They were also relatively new to pastoring and we all lamented how our national politics were affecting our theology. Sian and I have kept in touch on Facebook and she has grieved and lamented with me as our country has taken some tragic turns.
When I planned to travel to the U.K. this October, I knew I wanted to visit Cardigan, Wales and spend time with Sian. Last Thursday, we walked through the narrow streets of the lovely little seaside town and met several people from her church. It felt very much like being at home, but lighter.
In our conversations, I learned how aware people around the world are of the current lack of humanity in the United States. Over lunch, Sian told me she wept when she heard about plans to livestream an execution, which thankfully did not happen. I wanted her to know that many of us cried, too.
She is concerned about our elections and grieves for her American friends as we try to discern how to minister in our present culture.
Driving back to London, I realized we should send a broader SOS to the world, asking people to pray for and with us. Maybe this trauma America is experiencing is too large to pray our way out of on our own.
My encounter with my high school frenemy reminds me that the damage to America’s image of itself as the standard for democracy and humanitarianism will linger not only today and next week but for decades to come.
Those of us who grieve our present situation need as much help as we can muster. As in any recovery, asking for help is the first step.
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Retired campus minister, campus ministry coordinator for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship of North Carolina, and Collegiate Specialist for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship.