About that homeless, mentally ill, and intoxicated man

**Editor's Note:  The service on Sunday October 12th was an incredibly moving sermon on the easily forgotten human element of homelessness.  The following post was written by DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church congregant, and frequent blog contributor, Ruth Elliott.**

Today the service was about homelessness. I wrote this in the Spring, and thought it was appropriate for the blog today. - Ruth Elliott

Dear Well Intentioned Friend,

I know your intentions were not unkind when we talked the other day. I'm certain you had no idea the affect your story would have on me, and I'm somewhat ashamed I didn't speak up more clearly at the time.

Okay, here's the thing. Your story? About your daughter's dance class being threatened by a lone homeless man, the one where the instructors bravely hid all the girls (who 'were practically dressed in bikinis') in the locker room to protect them? The story where the lone homeless man who may have been intoxicated, who likely was mentally ill  (spoken with your voice lowered), had come into the lounge near the studio and sat down to watch the tv, you remember? Do you remember telling me how horrified you were, what danger these girls were in. Do you remember when you first described the man that I said, poor thing, he was probably just looking somewhere safe to rest?

Here are some things I didn't tell you. I have worked with homeless people for the last ten years. Yes, many are mentally ill, many are alcoholic or addicts or both. All of them suffer greatly. All of them are human beings, who love and are loved by someone. I didn't point out that mental illness and substance abuse are medical illnesses, just like cancer, or diabetics. I also didn't mention the reason many of them are homeless is because of inadequate resources to treat these disorders,and the tremendous negative stigma that goes along with being homeless, with being an alcoholic, with being an addict.

At one point while you were describing in great detail how horrifying and dangerous this man was, I did manage to quietly say, just like my son. I don't think you caught my meaning. I don't think you understood that what I was saying was that my son is homeless, that my son is mentally ill, that my son is an addict, that my son has curled up in all sorts of places trying to get some sleep, some comfort. I don't think you realized that while you talked about saving these girls from this threat, all I could see is the countless cruelties that the homeless, mentally ill suffer, that my son suffers. The diseases themselves and the heartbreak they cause to families are bad enough, but the stigma that well intentioned people attach to them and then use as a justification to treat them badly, as something less than human, and something not worth compassion, or love or comfort, the stigma is the worst of it all.

Change mentally ill to someone with cancer, with diabetics, suddenly it seems horrifying that someone suffering from cancer, or uncontrolled diabetes would be ostracized, would be seen as a threat to children.

Eventually all I could see was someone treating my son with the horror and disdain you very eloquently described, all I could see was the pain and the humiliation he has suffered. All I could see was my little boy being threatened, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do to save him. All I could feel was all the pain and the heartbreak of the last several years as I fought to keep my son sane, sober and safe. You see, my well intentioned friend, I too am a mother, a very protective one, and I do understand the overwhelming desire to protect my children. My daughters took dance when they were young, I did my time sitting in studios, going to recitals, I do understand that part, to this day I would do anything to keep them safe. I also love my son with the same intensity, and I have done, and still do everything I can to protect him. Sadly with his disease part of doing what's best for him and my daughters is to let him hit a bottom so he can hopefully one day come back to me.

I couldn't tell you any of this. All I could do was to cover my face to hide the tears and run away. When I got to my car I sat for a very long while until I stopped crying and could drive home.

The other thing I didn't tell you is what I may have in common with the homeless man, I'm an alcoholic. I was raised by one and am related to several. The disease runs rampant in my family. I've been told to say I'm a person in long term recovery, meaning I'm sober and have been so for quite some time. I don't generally tell people this, because unlike, say cancer survivors, there aren't any coloured ribbons, or fun walks for alcoholics or addicts, even the clean and sober ones. People don't look at you as someone who has fought - and remains constantly vigilant - against a chronic and deadly illness, and survived, people see a drunk, an addict, someone who has a flaw in their moral character, someone who cant' be trusted, someone you can't leave your children with (yes, I have been at the receiving end of all these attitudes) people look at you as something that is less than normal people. That's why I don't generally share that about myself. That is also why when you told me about the homeless man the first thing I felt was empathy for him, and the pain he must feel at fear and loathing that he experienced in your daughter's dance studio, and likely just about everywhere else he goes.

I didn't tell you any of this, because these things are usually too raw for me to say out loud. These things have brought judgement and negative stigma on me and my family, and some days I'm just not up to saying out loud that this is wrong. This is so very wrong. That it is not okay to view people as less than. No is less than anyone else. I think if people could get that straight in their heads the world could be a more compassionate and beautiful place.

So, maybe, next time you see a homeless person, someone who is mentally ill, intoxicated,maybe, you could let some compassion enter your viewpoint, and not let fear guide your thinking and actions, maybe you could lead with kindness and compassion, just a little at first. Or maybe you could, just for a moment, reexamine the way you view the homeless, the mentally ill, the addicted, the alcoholic. Maybe that could be a start.

Unbroken Circle: Mental Health Awareness

DUUC Editor's Note:   May is Mental Health Month.  In addition to the national advocacy for and awareness of mental health issues our congregation has been working on creating an atmosphere of understanding and care in regards to mental health.  We recently hosted a training seminar for Mental Health First Aid  and our pastoral care group is working to strengthen our community as a place for support.  In this blog post one of our congregants, Paul Sellnow, explores the taboo behind mental health and shares with us a piece of his own journey.  For more information on mental health issues and awareness visit the National Alliance on Mental Health. 

A few days ago, one of my coworkers arrived at the office just before lunchtime and announced "I'm late because I had to drive my wife to the doctor's office. She broke her arm roller skating last night." He did not seem the least bit embarrassed by his wife's apparent lack of rinkmanship, nor did he appear to have any reservations about her character or strength of will.

Most of us are comfortable talking about physical injuries and ailments. I've broken three bones, and each of them has a story behind it. I'm not the least bit squeamish telling you that I have had my gall bladder removed. I hesitate slightly when mentioning my incident with thyroid cancer, only because the "C" word can cause needless consternation on the part of listeners. (Completely treated, more than five years ago, no cause for concern.)

Other topics in our lives may be more intimidating. Some of us may feel awkward talking about money or political views, concerned that relationships with those of different positions may be strained. Some of us may be reluctant to discuss sexual orientation or religious beliefs, worried that family or friends may not approve and may even break off relations and cut us out of their lives. These can be difficult conversations, but a healthy respect for the inherent worth and dignity of the other person will often get us through.

Mental illness, however, retains a stigma in many people's minds despite years of progress in diagnosis and treatment. I've never heard anyone arrive late to work saying "sorry I'm late, my wife had a schizophrenic episode and I had to have her committed." Yet everyone should know that mental illness is a brain disorder, not a character flaw or a lack of willpower, and definitely not a choice. We should be able to talk about it as openly as we would an appendectomy or tonsillectomy.

Life with addiction, mental illness and stigma

DUUC Editor's Note: Our fellow congregant,Ruth Elliott, has graciously shared with us her family's journey of addiction, mental illness and facing the stigma that goes with each. Ruth previously shared this story with our congregation and we appreciate her sharing it again here.

It started about 9 years ago with a handwriting tutor.  In grade three Graham’s handwriting was terrible. I found him a handwriting tutor and drove him there three times a week until we realized it wasn’t having any effect on his handwriting. Over the next year it became clear it was something more than sloppy penmanship, it was like his brain was going way too fast for his hand to keep up. I found him a psychologist, had him tested and to absolutely no one’s surprise he was diagnosed with ADHD, and so started a long and inglorious period where I became an expert on 504 education plans, communicating with teachers, school social workers, and psychologists. I learned everything I could about the –constantly changing - prescribed medications and while I was at it I tweaked his already pretty healthy diet in an effort to improve his concentration and focus. At some point he told me he was seeing colors that weren't there, I had his eyes checked – all normal, and chocked it up to an intelligent and creative kid’s imagination.

Spotlight on UU: Lori Melhart

Spotlight on UU

Five Questions with DuPage Unitarian Universalist Congregant Lori
Melhart

How did you find our church?

When I was in Junior High, my parents were separated, and my Dad brought us to this church.  Then in 2007 when we moved to Lisle I decided I was coming back home to my church.  I became a member in 2009. (Dupage UU Church note: Lori celebrated her five year anniversary this month and was congratulated during service on Sunday January 12th. Congrats Lori!)

What makes you keep coming back?

Sense of belonging and inclusion is really important to me.  I feel like I belong here and that I’m among my own people when I walk in the door.  I appreciate the fact that you don’t have to be a member to be invited and involved in pretty much everything here. Of course, it's the core belief that we all share about including everyone.  Being open minded and not judging others are things that I need to hear every week.

What has been your most memorable moment here?

The candle light service on Christmas Eve.  I can’t always make it but I try to every year.  It somehow categorizes the holiday in a way that I can accept it.  Outside of this place, Christmas is either too commercial or too hypocritical, which is always something that I can’t quite accept about it.  But during that candle light service here I get to embrace it and feel it the way I think it should be felt.

 Where is your favorite spot to sit in the new sanctuary?

It used  to be far over to the back right hand side with you, but when you’re not there I felt like I was isolating myself so I found my friend Rachel in the middle area, so now I’m sitting in the middle.  But I still like sitting over in the back able to look out the window to see the trees and the pond.

How do you help at the church?

I was the Spirit Play teacher a few years ago and I liked that. I have subbed a few times.  I do also run a support group with Karen Seymour-Ells for parents of special needs kids that meet once a month. I certainly have plans to do so in the future.

Mural

       Last week, my children and I spread out our project: a giant mural -- one representing the state of Illinois.  For weeks, we have focused a portion of our learning time to understanding the roots and history of Illinois, along with the requisite state flower, tree, animal, and various sports teams.  The three of us sat side by side, exchanging colored pencils as we worked to complete what felt like an endless task: six feet of paper waiting to be filled in with color and given life.  

        On November 20th 2013, pen and paper were used to give new life and color to the state of Illinois.  At 3:30pm, Illinois State Governor Pat Quinn signed Senate Bill 10 -- the Religious Freedom and Marriage Fairness Act.  With the swipe of his pen, Governor Quinn put into law the marriage equality many congregants of the DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church and our allies have been fighting for.   In our 2005 Statement of Conscience (our public position statement), we proclaimed that civil marriage between any two consenting adults is a civil right.  Since that time (and even before), we have worked as individuals, as a church, and as a community to strive for justice and equality for our LGBTQ family.

You can read about some of our journey here: and here.

You can view the signing and read more about the movement here:  equality.illinois.gov.

       We are the 16th state to recognize marriage equality. A celebration is in order -- but there is more work to be done.  The mural of our country still needs us, side by side working together to make the picture complete.

       To join us as we move forward, please feel free to visit our congregation any Sunday at 

9:30 or 11:15 or contact our social justice committee members.  

     Today my children and I will work to finish our Illinois state mural.  We will add one new image to our mural and celebrate a new chapter in Illinois history.

Peace, love, and happy coloring! 

Shelly -- congregant at DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church

Gimme Shelter

 pads getting set up for the night

"Oh, a storm is threat'ning
My very life today
If I don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away.."                - The Rolling Stones

dishes, and more dishes

“While we do our good 
works let us not forget 
that the real solution 
lies in a world in which 
charity will have become 
unnecessary.”  
      - Chinua Achebe, Anthills of the Savannah

My friend Pam and I have both been through the same wringer, and while we would have preferred an easier go of it, it helps to have a friend with whom you can really talk to and be yourself with. We get together every couple of months for coffee, usually at Starbucks (a company that supports marriage equality, but that's another blog...). Today we were just settling in to chat when a man walked by, returning to his table just behind us. I recognized him and smiled and was in the process of saying "hi" when I realized I had no idea how I knew this man. What came out of my mouth was, "hey, I know you, but I'm embarrassed to say I don't know how". He recognized me, but shook his head as I mentioned possible common places where we might know each other, yoga? workshops? church? meditation group? I knew I'd had conversations with him, but simply could not recall when and where. We all chatted a bit and then he went back to his computer and Pam and got caught up. Three hours later when we were leaving I turned to say goodbye to my friend from places unknown, and he looked me directly in the eye and said "I want to thank you for all the good work you do with PADS, I truly appreciate it." Of course. This man was one of the people I have got to know in my time volunteering for PADS. More specifically, this man was one of the homeless clients we shelter and feed.

making lunches

"The most beautiful people we have known 

are those who have known defeat, known 

suffering, known struggle, known loss, and 

have found their way out of the depths. 

These persons have an appreciation, a 

sensitivity, and an understanding of life 

that fills them with compassion, gentleness,

and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people 

do not just happen."  Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Scotty, a long time volunteer sets up the pads

So, let me tell you about Public Action to Deliver Shelter, or PADS as we call it. I have volunteered one night a month for about nine years now. On PADS nights I'd haul my kids and occasionally a friend or two, to the church where we, with many other volunteers, set up an overnight shelter for anywhere from 45-100 people without homes.

This means pulling out thin mattress pad, sheets, a blanket, a pillow and, if there is room, a chair for each homeless person, and placing them all in on the floor in one large room.

all ready to serve dinner

During this time we also bring together a hot and healthy dinner (baked chicken, potatoes/rice, vegetables, salad, rolls, dessert, coffee, drinks) and assemble bag lunches for each guest. Then, in the morning another crew comes in and makes and serves a bacon, eggs, bagels, and muffin  breakfast. In between there are people who volunteer to sit up overnight and watch over the guest while they sleep.

dish-washing - with STYLE

My job is in the kitchen. I'm in charge of making sure dinner gets set up, served, and cleaned up afterwards. This involves making sure all the food shows up (more volunteers bring in food they have cooked at home), that the food is warm enough, cold enough, cut up enough, or basically ready to serve people. I make sure Decaf coffee gets made, that there is milk out for the children that are allowed in early, that we have enough chicken pieces for the number of people we expect to serve (always a source of excitement), that the desserts get put out, that the tables are set, and that everyone has something to do, including the 5year old who has come with his parents and wants desperately to help.We have been short of chicken or potatoes or vegetables a few times. When that happens I either send someone out to buy chicken, make mashed potatoes for 70, toss a vegetable dish together, and once I made collard greens. Generally I have about 10 minutes to accomplish this task, so it is never dull.

hangin' by the desserts

Here are some of the things I want you to know about the people we shelter and feed.

• There are always at least few families, with kids from infancy to adolescence. These kids have everything they own in a car or back pack, have no privacy, and still sit down before and after dinner and try to do their homework, because during the day they go to school. My kids have grown up playing with hundreds of different homeless children, some of whom they knew from school.
• I've seen men carrying in suits so they can look presentable at their day job, even though they are spending the night on the floor of church crowded in with 70 other people, and one or two showers.
• There are disabled people, sometimes with children, there is an 8year old girl who translates for her deaf mother.
• I have seen all ages, races, faiths and apparent socio-economic statuses (people in suits, people in rags and everything in-between).
• Not once in 9 years has any client ever been unkind, occasionally you will get someone who is grumpy or distracted (I know I would be), but for the most part, clients are gracious and grateful and say thank you,  some in a way that makes me want to cry.
• After 9 years I still find myself surprised at the variety of people I see at PADS, the gentleman from the coffee shop for example, never would I have guested he had no home if I didn't see him at the shelter.
• There are times when there simply is not enough space, and we have to turn people away. When this happens the PADS staff work very hard to find an alternate location for these people to spend the night. I hate sending people away.
• The PADS organization is so much more than a place to sleep and a meal.

hard working AND good looking volunteers

 The following is from their website:

DuPagePads is so much more than a pad on the floor.

DuPagePads is about the journey home.

It’s about the journey from dependency to self-sufficiency. Not the shelter. Not the nights spent in a car, in a motel room or on the street. DuPagePads is a journey that begins with an extended hand, an affirming voice, and a trusting soul that will advocate undividedly for each individual.

The solution to end homelessness. Starts with housing.

The solution to end homelessness is more complex than providing individuals with food and shelter. Founded in 1985, DuPagePads is the largest provider of interim and permanent housing, coupled with support services in order to help individuals work toward becoming self-sufficient. These vital support services enable the individuals we help to receive case management and life coaching, employment support such as GED courses and job coaching, as well as engagement with employers—effectively stopping the cycle of homelessness.

DuPagePads IS the solution to end homelessness—because when someone believes in you, everything can change.

At the end of my shift we had fed 50 people, and people were getting settled in for the night. At the end of my shift it's not just about feeding and sheltering people. 

In the end it's about The Inherent Worth and Dignity of Every Person. 

In the end it's about Justice, Equity and Compassion in Human Relations. 

In the end, for me, it's about putting my beliefs in action, it's about caring for those in our community that need help. It's about treating every person with compassion and respect. It's about showing my own children how to treat people, that each person has inherent worth and dignity, and should be treated with respect and compassion. For no other reason than we are all human, and that this is how we should treat and care for each other.

and it was at that age.... DUUC arrived

(In case you didn't get the reference in the title, the poem, by Pablo Neurda, is at the end)

We arrived in Naperville from a small close knit community in Ontario just over 10 years ago. My children, at the time, were 5, 7 and 9 years old (pictures above, Graham with his new shirt). In the community we moved from we knew our neighbours, all our kids' friends families, the teachers and staff at our public school,  basically everybody. Our kids moved from home to home almost seamlessly.  At the school there was just one class for each grade. Our friends and neighbours (yes, that's how it's spelled) didn't own guns, were really causal about religion and generally were liberal in their outlook. It was a nice place and a nice life, and then I found out 'we' were being transferred to the United States.

The thought of moving to a country at war, a country with no gun control, a country with the death penalty, a country that was big and loud, homophobic, materialistic and dangerous, well let's just say the thought was very frightening. That I was bringing my young children into this gun loving, war mongering country was terrifying  Okay, so I might have made some gross generalizations and assumptions about 294,043,000 people (2003 US census), but that's how it felt to me at the time.

the willow tree was their favourite thing about the new house

We arrived by plane in O'Hare and drove on the interstate to Naperville, past billboards advertising gambling, drinking, strip clubs and personal injury lawyers. I wanted to cover my children's eyes. Naperville itself was big suburban community. It was, and is full of expensive homes and cars, shopping centres like I've never seen before. It is competitive, it is conservative, it is ostentatious. There were people driving around on motorcycles without helmets. I never let my kids on a bike without a helmet.

America as a country is big, loud, conservative and competitive. If the world were a house, America would be the teenager who stays locked in his room blaring the stereo  eating processed food and throwing the wrappers in the hallway and out the window.

I will not spend this whole blog slamming America, because, in this big, loud outrageous country I found some of the warmest, gentlest and kindest people I've ever known.

When we had been here about six months my youngest child, Elizabeth (I was still allowed to call her that then) wrote a note to God. By this time I was quite experienced helping Santa - wrote with big cursive letters in gold ink, and the Tooth Fairy - wrote with very tiny sparkly pink printing, respond to my children's letters. The God note was on an 8x10 piece of lined paper. It was about a paragraph long, taking up about half the page and asked the usual existential questions, where was heaven, what happened when we died, where do you live, and what's your favourite colour? The other half was for God to write a reply. She taped it, words facing out, to her bedroom window and went to bed. 

There was no good way to handle this, I had no idea what to do, also, I had no idea what colour ink God wrote in, or if God printed or wrote in cursive. I left the note blank and went to bed feeling like I'd failed some important parental test. When she got up in the morning Elizabeth went straight for the note and was very sad to see it still blank. She asked me why God didn't write back, and I had to tell her "I don't know". This was the first of many "I don't knows" that I have since said to my children. When they are young, its lovely to be seen as knowing all the answers, but as they grow up we both found out that they would have questions that I could not answer. I still can't answer the questions in her note, I don't if there is a heaven or where it would be, I don't know what happens after we die, nor do I know God's favourite colour, but suspect it is red, because Red is Best.

And it was at that age.... DUUC arrived.

Standing on the Side of Love

I had to find a community that my children could ask these questions and there would be someone there who was qualified to answer them. I looked at local churches and they did not share many of the values that I held dear. Values about the inherent worth and dignity of every person, of every person. To me that included homosexual people, people who wanted reproductive choice, people that believed science and religion were not opponents, people who questioned and thought about the nature of life, the universe, and everything. This included people who would encourage my children to grow spiritually, to think and develop their own views, people that understood the importance of not just talking about doing good, but who rolled up their collective sleeves and did good, not because they would be rewarded with an afterlife in heaven, not because they would be kept out of Hell (a place I don't believe exists), but because that's what people do for each other.

And what do you know, I found it. We have been going for 9years, and every Sunday my now teenagers insist - yes, I said insist, on going to church. Through DUUC my children have found bedrock. They have formed life long and life changing relationships. They have been told they are loved, they are important, they can accomplish great things. They have had mentors, teachers, leaders, peers and friends surround and love them, and just as important, they have been all of these things for other people. In difficult times DUUC has been a place of of Love and Acceptance, somewhere they could go when they felt that there was no where else they could go and be accepted. 

This is something I am profoundly grateful that my children have.

And you know what? I have found all those things for myself as well. Not a bad deal.

and this is us now

Poetry

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind. 

Pablo Neruda

that's so GAY!

Today an old friend called me and we arranged the time to get together for a long overdue coffee. She suggested we meet in her church's coffee shop because she would rather give them her business than a coffee chain, fair enough.

On Sunday our service was about being a GLBTQI (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, Intersex) Ally. It was very inspiring, and I realized the many ways I had become more of a quiet and supportive bystander than an actual ally. I thought about the ways in which my silence could be seen as approval.

So, I looked up the church. It was not a Welcoming Congregation. It followed a more literal interpretation of the Bible. Then I sat for a moment and thought about all the tiny ways, often without thinking, that we support attitudes and beliefs that can be hurtful to the GLBTQI community. I thought about my friend, a lovely, open, warm woman with whom I have much in common, like being white, straight women with teenage sons. Like being artists, dog lovers and gardeners. Like living and supporting each other through some colossally crappy times together, and I thought if I can't be honest with her, then I really need to examine myself. So I said, respectfully and with compassion, that being an Ally was something that was important to me and I would prefer if we met somewhere other than her church. This actually opened a conversation that we had never had, about the difference between 'welcoming everyone' and a 'welcoming congregation', and while we did not dwell on it, it started a new dialogue between us.

I think it is important to have these conversations. I think it is equally important to remain compassionate and respectful while having them. I did not convert my friend over coffee, that was not my intent, but I did plant a small seed of thought for her do with as she liked, and I practiced compassionately communicating about an issue that is important to me and my GLBTQI friends.

Later I saw this video of Ash Beckham.

She explains brilliantly, and with great humour and wit, some of the ways to be an ally. She talks about the difference between tolerance and acceptance. She has great visuals. She wrote it in response to a "that's so gay" comment she had overheard. She didn't have a conversation with that person that day, but her talk was in front of 850 people and the youtube video has been seen by tens of  thousands. You may not be able to speak up every time, but that doesn't mean you don't have a voice, it doesn't mean that you can't speak up with actions, with writing, with music. We all have a voice, and we will be heard when we use it. To quote Ash, "It takes a Village, people"

DUUC 25 YEARS AGO

This was presented February 10th, 2013

Good morning. I’m Jack Pace. Ginny and I just received our pins for 25 years of membership in DUUC. Here’s what we remember from 1988, the year we joined.

As former UUs, we visited the nearest UU church and didn’t shop around for other church options. DUUC was friendly, had a great minister in Kendyl Gibbons, and had just launched an expansion program to build what is now Kreves Hall. I don’t think we had a mission statement back then , but the church soon adopted the motto A Growing Church for Growing Times.

The staff consisted of minister, part-time DRE and part-time secretary, all sharing space in what is now the Clara Barton room upstairs. Bonnie was pianist, but the choir was directed by a series of volunteers. Child care was provided by parents taking turns.

The social action committee was a forum for lively discussions, but our only community involvement was collecting food for Peoples Resource Center. Since then, our social action program has grown to include PADS, Bridge Communities, Green Sanctuary, and Statements of Conscience, as well as a Public Ministry Committee to advance social witness in the name of the church.

The church had no Endowment Fund, but established one soon after we arrived.

The Service Auction brought in hundreds of dollars. It has grown into an event that nets tens of thousands.

Kendyl was only the church’s 4th minister. She suggested that DUUC become more open to the LGBT community, but it wasn’t until Lois White interned with us that we embarked on the Welcoming Congregation program.

Since that era, our religious education curriculum has grown to include the Chalice Lighter, Coming of Age and TAG programs.

Altho we had only one service in 1988, we soon added a second service to accommodate growth in church attendance.

Ginny and I felt that this church would be the right one for us. That anything that needed to be fixed, we could help fix. As the church and its members have grown in wisdom, strength and community service, so have we. We are proud and happy to be a part of this growing church community. We are proud to support it.

Jack and Ginny Pace

THE DUUC IN THE SEVENTIES

This was presented on February 3, 2013.

It may seem strange to you that Sally and I are presenting this little talk about life in the DUUC during the seventies, having just received our five-year membership pins a few weeks ago. However, we first joined this church in 1974, and we want to share our memories of congregational life nearly forty years ago. 

The property at that time included: the original one-room school house, now the Founders Room; our present sanctuary, built some time before we arrived; and part of the entrance foyer. That's all there was.

The congregation was also very different in 1974. We had about 150 members. Congregational concerns were mainly with money (surprise?) and internal affairs. Church governance was simple. We had only one employee, and relatively few corporate responsibilities. We had a Board, but all major financial, business and policy decisions were made in true democratic fashion - that is, by discussion and vote at congregational meetings. Some of these meetings were exciting affairs, and tempers flared - but the good thing was that after the vote, everyone put away their verbal weapons, picked up their coffee cups and got on with the business of being a loving, caring Church.

One thing that Art felt was missing was a choir. Corinne Kreves, the minister's wife, played very nice piano, but aside from hymns and an occasional solo from a member, there was little music in the Church. Art organized the first DUUC choir, and Sally sang alto. The choir became a regular part of services for many years.

Another legacy that we created was the annual All-Church Campout on our 50 acre property near Newaygo, Michigan, called "Hidden View." The campout was held the second weekend in July, every year beginning in 1976. Camping gear included everything from pup tents to RVs, all welcome. What great times we had: tubing, canoeing, swimming, hiking, tractor rides for kids, cookouts over our big community charcoal grill, evening campfire songfests. 

One memorable scene from Hidden View deserves special mention here. Shortly after Kendyl Gibbons began serving as our Minister in 1983, she and her husband, Mark, came to an annual Hidden View campout. They were not seasoned campers, but they had borrowed a tent and some gear for this weekend. That was one of the few nights during which we had serious rain - a real whiz-banger category 7 thunderstorm. Kendyl emerged the next morning, sopping wet, and announced with as much dignity as she could muster, that this was one Church function that was going to have to carry on in the future without her participation. Kendyl was a good sport, and the campouts did, in fact, continue, until 1991.

Art and Sally Freedman

"Who is your teacher" - Feb 3 service

When I saw the announcement for this service, my first thought was "I wonder what poor sap they are going to get to volunteer for that."

Then I thought about it for a minute, and I wondered "if I were going to volunteer, who would I put forward as my teacher?"

Pondering my long philosophical journey from the theistic Lutheran fundamentalism of my childhood to the naturalistic humanism of my present, I tried to think of one dominant influence -- one teacher, one author, one experience that would have been the prime factor in my deconversion. But it was a long, gradual process for me, with many stages or steps along the way. Every book, every author, every conversation, every experience gave me a little bit more to think about and moved me a little farther down my path. Looking back on it now, I have the sense of having been placed in a deep hole by my childhood upbringing, and having to pull myself up a ladder one rung at a time. Carl Sagan may have provided a rung, Christopher Hitchens may have provided another rung, and Charles Darwin another, and the Dalai Lama still another, but I had to climb all those rungs to get to my current perspective.

Now that I've climbed out of that particular hole and had some time to look around, I've noticed that the landscape seems familiar. Many of the moral and ethical positions that I'm arriving at are ones that I've seen before, in stories from my childhood. Not so much the stories I heard from my parents and relatives, but stories I saw on TV. 

The stories of one particular storyteller stand out in my recollection. These stories center on the crew of a spaceship as they trek from star to star and encounter civilizations that were supposed to be strange and alien, but were actually all too human. Let me give you a few examples:

In one episode, the crew comes upon a planet inhabited by a powerful, advanced alien. This alien offers to return to earth and restore an earlier, nostalgic golden age of paradise with all humanity had ever desired: health, happiness, comfort, and safety. All that is required in return is for humanity to welcome the alien, agree to become his slaves, and worship him as a god. 

In another episode, the crew comes upon a planet inhabited by a race with equal parts black and white pigmentation, sharply divided down the center of their bodies. These people are at war with each other, and are on the verge of total annihilation. When asked what the conflict is about, one of inhabitants points to his opponent and says "isn't it obvious? HE is black, on the left side. ALL HIS PEOPLE are black, on the left side. (I am white, on the left side.)"

In still another episode, the crew comes upon a planet with a shining city, not on a hill, but actually in the clouds (in low orbit.) This cloud city is inhabited by a gentle race of scholars, artists, poets, and other sophisticated types. Meanwhile, the planet below is inhabited by a violent, brutish race of limited intelligence. These surface-dwellers are only suitable for domestic help, or working in the mines which produce the precious ore which pays for the cloud city.  But it turns out that these two races are actually the same. Originally they had planned to rotate between leisure time in the cloud city and work on the surface. The surface-dwellers behave as they do because of exposure to toxic fumes in the mines, while the privileged cloud-dwellers who benefit from the surface labor are secluding themselves behind the walls of the ultimate gated community.

As a boy, I was more impressed by phasers, force fields, and photon torpedoes than by the underlying morals of the stories. I grew up in an all-white, all-Christian community where thinking of a god as a petty, narcissistic slave-master would have been sacrilege.  I had little awareness of racial prejudice and discrimination, and the phrase "we are the 99%" was decades away. Women and minorities in leadership positions, the first interracial kiss on network television -- all lost on me at the time. I also didn't sit through all the closing credits back then, so I didn't know the storyteller's name. I only knew the names of the actors who played the leading characters: William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, DeForest Kelly, George Takei. It was only much later, when I had climbed many rungs on my ladder, that I learned it had been Gene Roddenberry (recipient of the American Humanist Association's 1991 Humanist Arts Award) who had shown me the preview of my ongoing mission to boldly seek out new truths and deeper community.