General Church

Hello everyone!

Research is good. Health is great. This week? Awesome.

I think my favorite part was “General Church” service at the secondary school. This church was something like the best sacrament meeting of my life and one of my many high school punk rock concerts. You arrive exhausted, breathe in the music, abandon your inhibitions, and dance!

Of course, I am the backbench kind of church person. I was perfectly content watching, furiously jotting down notes to expand into my field journal. Shelley wouldn’t have it. She yanked me from my seat and threw me into the center of the “mosh pit.” Long ago, I used to be that kid who opened my bedroom window to sing for the neighbors, but that got trampled by a more mature Sunday decorum: Sit Down > Fold your Arms > and be Quiet. Happily, that window singing kid resurfaced in me- reminding me of the days when I didn’t care what I looked like—which is why I think I needed that meeting. The root of “reverent” is the word “revere,” isn’t it? Not to discredit our way of worship, but I can’t help but admire the way these teenagers do it. Not a person sitting, hands flying in the air, a few wailers, some fainters, a soloist with a crackling second-hand microphone, a lot of dancers churning up the crowd, a bongo accompanying the steal drums, an electric keyboard, everyone wearing white, everyone in their own world, and not a soul cared that I am no dancer.

I didn’t have very good notes for that day, but somehow that doesn’t really seem quite as important.

Ava