Chicken and Cheese

My Aunt Pam was one of my first friends in the way that only an aunt or uncle can be. She was like a parent but without all of the rules placed on me at home. I don't have a first memory of her, but I know a little bit about what she was like before I was born. She's my dad's younger older sister and was a majorette back when it was cool at Phillips High School near Phil Campbell, Alabama. She was married, had a kid, and divorced. During that time she was also diagnosed with Diabetes, which gave my grandmother M'Lynn style Steel Magnolias freak outs when she was pregnant.

Her home was built on the same land that the house the grew up in was. It was a cute little yellow house that stood out with the large amber fields and beginnings of the deep green forest in the background. She lived right next door to my grandmother, so I'd often run between there two houses and the dirt path and through the grass barefoot enjoying the beauty of Alabama under the stars that are hidden in the city. It was one of the most naturally beautiful places to me as a child.


Growing up I would always stay at her house when I went to my grandparents' because she would let me stay up later and her son was allowed to have video games, which I was not due to my mother's fear of me losing my imagination. I agree with her now, but at the time it was a nuisance. Every morning my aunt would bake frozen chicken fingers and melt a small slice of cheese on each of them to go with biscuits and chocolate milk. After mornings filled with cartoons, she'd let me pick how I wanted to spend the day. That was the best thing about her. She let me be me when I was there. I could ride on the swing outside her house or play Mario Party all night long with her as Yoshi and me as Princess Peach. Along with my grandmother and cousin, we'd go to every McDonalds to collect Teenie Beanies and stand outside of Walmart to try to get a Furby while stopping at every flea market in Northwest Alabama. All of these things were such simple pleasures that I feel I sometimes lose in my love of urbanization.

While I was in elementary school an probably before, my aunt had a plethora of complications because of her Diabetes. She had transplants and portions of her feet and legs removed and ended up having more surgeries than everyone else in the family combined, but she would always try to stay positive in front of me. I know she wasn't always successful, but it meant a lot that she was able to comfort a child when she was the one going through so many difficult changes. She would always tell me that I needed to find her a body shop so that she could get a new one to replace the one that was falling apart. One time I actually thought I had found one and told her all about it, but it was just a body shop for cars. I do remember that every time she had a big operation my dad would make a movie for her about that operation. The best way for him to cope with the gravity of the situation was humor. I always had at least a small role in these home movies that we'd send her. My mother even participated once and will be glad if a copy of that film never resurfaces.

As I grew up, we became less close than we had been when I was a child. We still talked and spent time together when I visited, but I had a younger brother and cousin that she focused on because that was her niche. I still fit in just in a different way. I was too large to share her bed or to make her play with Barbies. Instead we made a brain out of Legos for a Psychology project in high school and talked about what I was going to do with my life. In April of 2011 her house was destroyed by one of the tornadoes that tore through Alabama on the 27th, and she was forced to move to Chattanooga with my grandparents without getting a real chance to say goodbye to the place she had lived her entire life. It was while at her house that I was offered my job at Red Cross, and it was for her and all the people affected that I took that job. I hated seeing that place that brought me such joy as a child being devastated and unrecognizable.

My aunt passed away during her dialysis treatment this morning due to complications with her heart. I am so glad that I was able to see her over Christmas and talk to her on my birthday. It feels so weird not to be with my family at a time like this. I know there is no movie we could make to bring out humor. She wasn't always perfect, but I admire her for what she went through and had to deal with as a disabled single mother in rural Alabama. I already miss her but know that all I need to do to find her again is to preheat the oven and slide in a tray of frozen chicken fingers with slices of processed American cheese ready to melt on top.

Finding Foundry

I realized that in my previous catch up most at the beginning of this month that I completely left out my church that I started going to a the end of November. A good church community has been one thing lacking in my life since the loss of the Wesley Foundation post college. I didn't realize how important it had been to me until I went back to camp last summer as a volunteer, so the second I got here I started looking for a church that could give me that same sense of community I had felt in college and at camp in an age range during which those things are difficult to get from many churches.

A news publication entitled The Washington Blade had a best of DC article that I found online while searching liberal United Methodist churches online, and Foundry United Methodist was the winner in the church category. Then when I discovered that they had a Friday night contemporary service, I was sold. I am terrible at having motivation in the morning, so a 5:30 service seemed like a good idea.

From the first night, I was hooked. I happened to attend a night of one of their coffee house services, which just means that different people were sharing things that had to do with the theme of the sermon. I love how casual it is. Everyone wears what they want to and snacks on cheese and other food during the service. There are people from a multitude of diverse backgrounds, income levels, sexual orientations, and political parties. Even with all f these differing opinions, I have never felt like anyone is being judged.

I felt so lucky to have found a church I liked on my first visit, so I haven't even bothered trying any others. Every week we go out for dinner afterward for fellowship. It's been a great way to make friends in the city that are al going through the same things I am and different things as well.

I also joined a small group through the church and have met even more new friends that are willing to have difficult discussions about faith and how it ties into the secular. Our group is reading a book about chastity, so it definitely brings up interesting conversations. I hate that I'm missing it during tour season, but the great thing is I know that any Thursday I'm free I have a place to go.