A Parish Story from Chamberlain | Goshen, Indiana
Today’s Parish Story is an excerpt from our dear friend Shannan Martin’s new book, Start with Hello. Shannan is an inspiring parish practitioner and a member of our Parish Collective Fellowship.
It was late when Barb called. A matriarch in our church, she’d recently crossed her 95th year. "I hoped you could give me some advice," she began. "You know I sit there in the North wing. The lady who sits beside me gets out of work release soon and she doesn't have anything to set up housekeeping. I would like to get her a few things, some pans and some dishes, but I would prefer that she pick them out, because I don't know what patterns she likes. I thought maybe I could take her to Walmart after church." She paused. "Do you think that would be alright?"
I bent my answer into as many variations of “yes” as I possibly could.
Approaching a full century on this soil with no plans to slow down, this great-grandma-by-extension faithfully sits in her pew, week after week. She has endured through the low tides of congregational health, watching pastors come and go. She has said goodbye to friends, placed flowers on graves, baked casseroles, and signed her name to hundreds of cards.
She doesn't bustle around the sanctuary during greeting time; she has no steps to waste. She simply pays attention. At some point, she turned to her left and said hello. Now, she shares a hymnal with someone common logic might say was not meant to cross her field of vision. When she arrived there in spite of it all, Barb noticed.
Shannan Martin, author and member of the Parish Collective Fellowship
I don't know the personal details of Barb’s new friend. The status of her future kitchen has never crossed my mind. I don't sit in the North wing. I'm over in the middle, learning different names, and believing the body of Christ is at its best when each of us commits to the ground beneath our feet and the pew beneath our rear.
Regular life is challenging right now, and that includes church. Managing obligations and expectations feels like maneuvering a stick-shift uphill for the very first time. The clutch now? More gas? (I long for the brake.)
But last Sunday I craned my neck toward the North Wing. There they sat, two strangers-turned-friends.
Everything I know about living as a neighbor was learned through my neighbors, like Barb. They show me the way. Choose your place. Stay put. Look around. Take your time.
When the moment is right, the answer is yes. Yes, you can go out on a limb. Yes, you can do a strange thing. Yes, generosity is practical. Yes, it can be honoring. Yes, investing in the people near us makes life brighter and less alone. Yes, it counts. Yes, it matters. Yes, making the world better for one person makes the world better.
This is our love song for the long haul, available to everyone, if only we’re willing to go out on a limb and sing it.
