Yesterday, I went to First Baptist Church on Lexington to pay my respects at the death of Bill Richardson. As I entered the awkward building, with my awkward feelings, I stopped to look at the vestibule which was even more awkward. You see, I never feel any comfortability in the church. First Baptist on Broadway was where I left my heart for First Baptist and it evolved into an Alumni Center for me mentally. So I remain lost and awkward about First Baptist and where it fits in in my mind. When the church split and sold the building, it shattered me mentally and I choose to remain shattered because, try as I might, the pieces cannot be put back together for me.
But I love people who remained there; I love people who moved to a different church and I love people who choose to go no where. And that includes Bill and June Richardson, who were a steadying force. It is difficult to understand that sense of shattering unless one has been shattered. And I was going through a terrible divorce shattering at the same time. My equilibrium was uprooted in a way that few could ever understand and now, even when I return for a few minutes, to pay my respects to a person, I come home and face the sense of shattering again. And I cope again.
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