A Dichotomy (It's a Great Word)

A couple of Sundays ago Marty and I went to Preston Hollow Presbyterian Church in Dallas to watch as our youngest grandchild, Lucy Jean, was baptized.  For me, for us, it is a spiritual thing.  For me, for us, infant baptism represents the best of who we are as human beings.

In our church baptism is a sacrament, a sign of God’s continuing love for God’s people.  Marty often referenced a statement from someone more eloquent than I (I can’t remember the name) that birth is a sign that God has not yet given up on humanity.  I feel that way about baptism.  I can’t think of a better way of showing love than for parents, a family, a church to promise God’s love to a child.

The baptisms of our grand children or any child touch Marty in a way she can’t express.  She doesn’t say much about it, the strokes took outward expressions from her, but I know from years of sitting beside her when other children have been baptized she feels the meaning of the sacrament.  She feels the warmth and love of the community, she always, always, as difficult as it is to make the journey, as self conscious as she feels in large gatherings, she always wants to be there and connect with that part of our life.  

I want that for her.

The following Sunday my family gathered in Fort Worth to belatedly fete my parents for their 65 year anniversary.  65 years is a long, long time to do anything, 65 years of marriage is nothing short of a miracle.  My brother John, in his toast, said that only 1% of married couples make the 65 year mark.   Personally I’ve never known anyone married for 65 years, you have to not only live a long time you have to stay in like and love with someone else for a very long time.  

It was a great celebration where Marty tried to order a beer instead of wine or the more appropriate Diet Coke (she really can’t drink either, she’s loopy enough and has to help me drive), we all paid homage to the miracle of Bettye and Larry Sr., and our entire immediate family was there.  We even got to hear a letter of congratulations to my parents written by our esteemed Senator Ted Cruz from Texas (no, not all of us in Texas like extremism).

More importantly we talked of the miracle of love, the necessity of partnership, the luck of finding your soul mate and what an amazing thing it is to still love your mate through all of the trial, tribulations and victories of 65 years.

In the span of those two weeks, with my bride, my bride of 40 years, my bride in the wheelchair, we made the treks to the Metro mess to see a beginning and a solemn promise, the next week we had the privilege to honor a solemn promise fulfilled for more than six decades.

Getting to Dallas once every now and then pulls hard at Marty’s energy reserves so I always give her a choice, “Do you want to go?”  Of course she says, “Damn straight I want to go.”  In her mind she has to be there for the baptism and my own Mother, who always loved me the most, told me not to come to their shindig without Marty.  

The dichotomy of these two events is really hard to miss.  Think of it as a contrast between a new beginning for little Lucy and a celebration of an old union that began literally decades ago in another century, a union that is ultimately responsible for giving life to little Lucy.

 Lucy was baptized into a faith community in 2016, in a completely different millennia and culture than when my parents were married, yet they are tied together, they are tied together by the miracle of genetics and more importantly they are forever connected by the very same faith and family community.

I love the connection, I love knowing that, my grandparents, my parents, Marty and I, our children and their children are part of a strong community connected through the years to each other and to a common history. 

I love knowing, as different as these celebrations were, as special and emotional as they both were, they ultimately show who we really are.  

I really love knowing Marty is still here to be a part of these acts of love and with Marty; you can’t take that presence for granted.

Hailey Dunn is Missing

Hailey Dunn is missing. Dunn a 13 year old teenage girl went missing in my hometown right before the New Year. According to media reports she was reportedly walking to her father’s house and then to her friend’s house to spend the night. She never got there; the father and the friend reported they did not know she was supposed to be coming.

My home town, Colorado City, Texas, pronounced ColOrAdO, is a dry spot in a long straight I-20 in west Texas. In the late 19th century it was a railhead city and a boom town for a while. It’s now a small west Texas town with 4500 people surviving in the big country of Texas.

Most of the people who live there are very conservative and very Christian, though it’s a remarkably diverse group of people. They are good people, people anyone would call the salt of the earth. They are people who are proud of who they are, what they believe and where they live.

The live in Colorado City and it is their village, their community, their safety net and it hurts them in a very real way that Hailey is missing and they haven’t been able to find her or find out what has happened to her. They take it as a personal affront that this could happen in their village and it scares them that something bad like this could happen “even” in little Colorado City.

Marty and I both grew up in small towns in Texas and we have both in several small towns in Texas; thus we must be experts about small towns in Texas. All of these small communities are very different, but they all carry pride in their community, a security in their surroundings and a closeness we don’t often see in larger cities. Small towns take their communities and the closeness of their community very serious.

I haven’t lived in Colorado City for a long, long time but it is where I was sculpted, it was where my foundations began so I have some sense of understanding how the residents feel. I have been following the Hailey Dunn story through friends, Face book postings and the news and what I have heard and read feels very familiar. The town has taken loss of a child very personally and as a community have adopted Hailey and banded together to protect her. They have collectively taken umbrage at any criticism of their town, their people or their community leaders, it’s what we do in small towns, band together against those who don’t understand us.

The prayer vigil they organized attracted 750 people, praying for a child most had never met. The tiny six person police department is clearly stretched too thin and have called in and gratefully accepted help from countless outside organizations. There have been huge volunteer search parties organized on multiple days searching without success. They go out and search the town, the country, the city’s landfill, hoping they find life but ultimately grateful they are disappointed when they find nothing. The people of this small community have wrapped their collective arms around Hailey’s family praying what is ultimately discovered won’t break their hearts.

Of course there are complaints, of course there are, it’s what we do when we are scared, when we can’t control all things. Of course there are criticisms, back biting, accusations, and rumors; these are the fuel for small communities, it’s how they breathe.

As the clock has ticked since Hailey’s disappearance the police have gone from a runaway child to a missing person’s investigation. Now whispers and accusations and recriminations are starting to simmer. People are looking at the live-in boyfriend with jaundiced eyes; they are looking at the mother with disapproval for not checking up on the missing girl earlier. But really these things take a back seat to the real issue, where is Hailey, and how can they help her.

My hometown is going through the natural stages of grief right now. They are hopeful, they are denying, they are angry, but they are not giving up, they are not letting the worst of the world bend their west Texas spirit. From a long way away, from many years ago, I still see the substance, I still see the determination, and I still see the pride of that community. A little girl, Hailey Dunn, has rallied the spirit of my old community, I hope she gets to come home and see it.