During successive Sundays at the church I currently attend (Trinity Community Church in KCK) we were challenged to remember our faith journey as we read along with the scriptures detailing Jesus Christ's journey of faith. Obviously, mine is of no comparison, but it is part of who I am.
The story into which I was born:
Two parents, married (always only to each other) who moved to Bellingham, Washington to answer the call of the Lutheran church. My father heard the call in college at Pacific Lutheran University, Tacoma (which I later attended for two years). He went to seminary in California where he met my mother who was training to be a social worker. She'd wanted to major in math at the University of California, Berkeley, but was told that women shouldn't (implied: couldn't) focus on math. She's excellent at it, by the way. My father proposed to my mother out of desperation; she'd been angry at him. Good for me, she accepted.
They moved to the little town on the border of Canada where they lived in a falling-down parsonage and in 1969 had their first-born daughter. Me. They wanted more children, but mom miscarried and was told no more children. They adopted my sister and five years later, my brother.
My father, George Melvin Beard, was an openly religious man all during my childhood and even into my early adulthood. His father, Melvin Delmar Beard, was a grocer and a quiet, thoughtful Christian. He chose to lead by example and I've never known a better image of what a Christian should aspire to be. His wife, Georgina, was a housewife as far as I know. Dad does not talk about her.
My mother, Andrea Annette (Anker) Beard, played the organ during most services, directed the choir and/or junior choir and taught Sunday school. Her father, Andrew Anker (Anders Gjertsen) emigrated from Norway where his people were ship-builders and sailors. He happened to get sick near San Fransisco and was put ashore to get medical help. Although he didn't like beer, he worked for Burgermeister Brewing and was able to trade free beer he received at work for goods and services. He was also a boxer for a time until a cauliflower ear convinced him that fighting would not increase his life-span or attractiveness. My grandmother, Mildred Rose (Dyal) Anker was a preschool teacher and one of the finest seamstresses I've ever known. At some point, she was also a cook for a wealthy family and I have many good memories of helping out in her kitchen.
The story of how I was raised:
From my earliest childhood, my parents identities were rooted in the church. During my junior high years, my father's church was right next door to the school, so we sometimes walked to school/work in the morning together. I'd go in after school sometimes too. We went to church every Sunday, but on any given night my dad might be called to a hospital or to a bedside to pray. He conducted weddings, funerals and baptisms (including the marriages of all of his children and the baptism of my own two children). Church was an extension of my family. My identity was "pastor's kid" and I carry that with me to this day. I went to church camp in the summers and to youth gatherings all year round. My sister and my brother often chose to sit in the balcony to distance themselves, but I liked the music, the ceremony and the order.
The story I chose:
I decided to attend Pacific Lutheran University, the same small, private school my father had attended. I loved it there but couldn't afford to stay. A big part of why I loved it was the religious community that supported and uplifted me. I joined the worship leadership team, reading the lesson and lighting candles. My favorite part was baking the unleavened bread for communion. At KU, I found that community again with Lutheran Campus Ministries. My then-boyfriend/now-husband and I enjoyed going to service and to the Sunday night suppers where we took turns providing the meal.
After college, I stopped going to church regularly until we moved back to Temple, Texas. We found a wonderful, welcoming church there and became heavily involved. Robert in the choir and both of us on church council. They threw me a lovely baby shower for my first child.
Back in Kansas City, I went to church with my mom, wherever she went. First Lutheran, later Baptist and then Methodist. She was raised Presbyterian. I still miss the ritual and ceremony that go along with being in the Lutheran church and I think that's where my heart will always be. However, being part of a church family is important to my well-being and setting aside that dedicated time for prayer and reflection is vital.
The story of when my faith stumbled:
I've found it much more difficult to become a genuine part of a church family as an adult. I am younger than most of the regular members, but older than the younger members. Many people my age have fallen away from the church for various reasons, but I still come to be with my Lord--to "get churched". I need that uplift I get from singing the hymns and hearing the Word. It is pretty lonely here, but that's mostly my own doing. I'm not signing up for things; I'm staying on the outside. I've isolated myself. I miss my husband and kids coming to church: it was always nice to have my little insular family unit. Life is very complicated and I need my church but I need to contribute more of myself.
