October 5, 2008

This weekend, I spent some time at my alma mater, Berry College, celebrating our founder’s birthday. Martha Berry’s birthday is also homecoming at Berry, the big alumni weekend. It is called Mountain Day, and like many colleges, Berry has fun Mountain Day traditions and memories.

I haven’t been back to Mountain Day since 1995, just two years after I graduated. Through a series of events this year, however, I found myself co-chairing my 15 year reunion with my dear friend Larry. We’ve had so much fun getting ready and reconnecting, and I looked forward to Mountain Day with enthusiasm.

As I gathered with friends on Lavender Mountain for the picnic, the Grand March, and the scurry for Mountain Day cups to take home, I felt a profound sense of place. I felt young and old at the same time. I felt out of place and right in my element at the same time. I felt the push and pull of time and place and the gentle ripping of holding hands over space.

This is homecoming. This is why colleges, universities, and even churches have weekends to celebrate homecomings. There is an element in all of us that longs for home, however we define it. There is a bit of an ache for place where you fit and matter and have stories to tell. There is an embracing of past and a tapping of future.

What was most important to me in this particular homecoming was to come home to the stories. As I said to Larry at the end of the weekend, “I wanted you to tell me about who I was then.” I wanted to tell him about who he was then. I wanted to ask about stories and memories from others I saw and treasured. I had a desire to be found in my past. I wanted the stories.

Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book Home by Another Way, presents a sermon about the magi taking a different path home after learning the truth about Herod (Matthew 2:1-12). She has this to say about stories and home:
“It is not that the facts don’t matter. It is just that they don’t matter as much as the stories do, and stories can be true whether they happen or not. You do not have to do archaeology to find out if they are genuine, or spend years in the library combing ancient texts. There is another way home. You just listen to the story. You let it come to life inside of you, and then you decide on the basis of your own tears and laughter whether the story is true. If you are in any doubt, it is always a good idea to watch other people who have listened to the story – just pay attention to how the story affects them over time. Does it make them more or less human? Does it open them up or shut them down? Does it increase their capacity for joy?”

I felt the stories we shared took me home by another way. Like the magi, I felt a storyline develop, crack open, sting, and heal. Some stories were painful, but more stories were warm and tender. The path didn’t look the same as my own experience remembered solely, but it still took me home.

I was reminded that we live in community. We all have our side of the story. But the story itself is larger than us alone. Others help fill in pieces.

It is why we need to come home. To listen to the stories unravel. To look at the photos. To unearth ourselves. To get to know others again – who have hopefully grown up also. To see those older and younger on their paths – to see where you have been and where time beckons you still.

As I sat at table on the Oak Hill lawn, music played, bugs flew, candles flickered, friends visited and laughed. I looked around at Larry and his wife, my roommate Ally and her son, my roommate Laurie with her husband and kids. I thought of Anna and Ashley at the March, of Curtis and his wife under the trees, of Drew far away in Kentucky. I thought of Wingo, gone to God too early. I thought of many faces with kindness. I thought of all the love that found me in the starlight in that moment. I thought of keeping table with community. I tried to take a moment to breathe in life.

And I knew, I knew for sure, I would return home by another way.

Happy birthday, Martha Berry. May you rest in peace, knowing that your students still gather for grace at your doorsteps.

Amen.

In Wisdom,
Brandi Calhoun Diamond

For a complete collection of Apples from the past year, please consider pre-ordering Brandi’s new book, More Bits of Wisdom; or for the previous year’s collection, Bits of Wisdom. As the holidays approach, you might also be interested in one of her Advent devotionals – one for women, one for families. If you order before Oct. 22, you will receive a 15% discount on all books purchased! Please visit our website to order:
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