23 September 2009

On the Journey

                            Our Immanuel family reunion—

              My Grandfather Smith was the shepherd of the Smith clan. He decreed that there would be a Smith family reunion the first Sunday of August every year at Camp Croft State Park in South Carolina. For years, this Sunday in August was a sacred and holy day for the Smith clan. From near and far, we gathered underneath a picnic shelter—grandparents, aunts, uncles, first cousins, and even some of those cousins one, twice, or even three times removed.

              As long as I lived at home, I do not remember missing a single one of these family reunions. Despite my perfect attendance, I do not remember really wanting to attend any of these gatherings of the clan.  I dreaded being with relatives I barely knew. Despite what my granddaddy told me, I could not figure out how on earth I was related to some of those strange folks. There were cousins I saw only once a year.  I also had an aunt or at least we called her aunt, who insisted on kissing every one of the boys present.

              I remember resisting these annual family gatherings, but I can also remember how much I enjoyed them afterward. In fact, at the end of the day, I was quite proud to be a member of this clan of Smiths.

For a boy interested in athletics, the Smith clan had a few trophies to admire. My grandfather set the record for running the mile at Clemson University when he was a student there. His record stood until 1964. My Uncle Henry, my grandfather’s brother, was a famous high school football coach. He had won a couple of state championships while coaching Gaffney High School. I had a cousin who started for the football team at Hanna High School in Anderson, South Carolina. You may remember this school and its football team were the background for the movie, Radio. Before the afternoon was spent, there would be one mean touch football game with us sliding around on the pine needles.

             The accomplishments of other members of the Smith clan filled my heart with pride. My Uncle Posey, my mother’s brother, was an airline pilot. My Uncle Hubert, my mother’s youngest brother, was a car dealer and he always drove a nice car. I had a cousin who was an officer in the Air Force, or maybe the Army, I can’t recall.  There were a couple of dozen educators teaching in some of the finest schools in North Carolina and South Carolina. There was Uncle Dan who was the finest specimen of a Southern gentleman I ever saw or knew. Among my aunts and uncles, there were great storytellers who entertained us. My cousins could always be counted on to teach me something I didn’t know—usually stuff my parents did not want me to know. I believe I might have learned to tell my first “dirty” joke at a Smith family reunion.

           When dusk approached on that first Sunday afternoon of August, all the members of the Smith clan packed up and headed out in a dozen different directions. As they were driving away, my granddaddy sat down at one of the picnic tables, took out a piece of paper, and began jotting down names. He noted every member of the Smith clan present and every member absent. Being family and keeping family together was important to my Grandfather Smith, and until his death, he issued the call for our family reunion every single year.

           Perhaps, as you read, you are wondering why I am rambling on about a Smith family reunion. Well, here goes. From my perspective, on Sunday we are going to have the Immanuel family reunion at Keiler Park. If you are reading this article, you are a member of this clan of Christians called Baptists, and I hope you will make every effort to join your family for a picnic lunch and some wacky games. I believe it is important for families to get together like this.

It may be, like any family reunion, you are not too excited about getting together on Sunday with this clan called Immanuel. You will be inclined to go on home after worship on Sunday, enjoy a quiet lunch, watch some football, and take a nap. Your excuse may be that the young children in your family need to get home, eat, and take their nap. You may not have any desire to cook up something to share for lunch. I certainly understand all those reasons you might choose to skip our family reunion. I understand, but I sincerely hope you will choose to come.

           If you come, I believe you will go home glad to have spent time with your Immanuel relatives. During the afternoon, you will discover that you are an important member of this family. You will experience a genuine love flowing toward you from people you barely know, because you are a member of this family. I believe, too, you may even come away feeling thankful that God has made you a member of the Church called Immanuel.

           And, yes, if you must know, after everything is cleaned up Sunday afternoon, I will sit down, take a piece of paper, and jot down the names of all the members of our Immanuel family present and all those who are absent. I will do this so I can give thanks to God for a family like ours. During this season of displacement, I often find myself thanking God for blessing me with fellow travelers like you on the journey of faith.

           Remember! Our Immanuel family is having a reunion Sunday afternoon. I hope to see you, for I am proud to be a member of this family of faith!jamie