I love you, Bethel AME
I'm hurt.
I'm angry.
I'm frustrated.
I've seen it on the news before, a church burned down. Though I felt for the lives touched, I couldn't honestly know what they were going through. But now the church I'm staring at on the TV is different from all the others. That burning/burnt church on TV and in the pictures is MY church.
For 12 years, Bethel AME, Summerville was the church I went to. It is the Gleaton family church (Gleaton [grandmother]---> McDonald [mother]---> Beasley [me]). When we first moved to Summerville (I'm a D.C. girl), Reverend Gadson was the pastor. He was blind/had a lazy eye, was old and he mumbled (which doesn't keep a seven year old's interest very long). Next was Reverend Washington, who was a lot younger, much more engaging. Then there was Reverend John Paul Brown whose son (unfortuantely) stole my first kiss (on the lips) on the education building porch. When I started going to college there was Reverend Paisley. And now there's Reverend Hunter, whom I've only met once (or twice). Wanna see a little piece of history? If you look hard enough, a part of the concrete walkway to the educational building bears the words (though small and accompanied with trademark smiley face) "Jade was here 2000". Both good and bad memories are housed in Bethel's now burnt down walls, including that first memory of "scrawberries" and "screets".
My mom called me a few days ago to talk to me. "They burned down Bethel." she told me before getting off the phone. "Who?" I asked. She didn't know, but she had told me the pastor, Reverend Hunter had been arrested and charged.
A day or two later. I saw my church, burnt extra crispy on FOX News Channel and remember thinking, "I should not be able to see that Pepsi machine." I was angry that day. I wanted to back hand whoever did this to my church and I was spitting mad.
Yesterday I cried. I saw pictures of my church burning as the Fire Department tried to put out the blaze. I called my boyfriend as tears streamed down my face. MY church had been burnt down. MY church. I so badly wanted to be on Main Street at that moment, but I was 900 miles away at work. It hurt.
To see the church you grew up in a burnt, almost unrecognizable state hurts and it hurts even worse that the pastor (THE PASTOR) may be the one to blame. The Bethel as I knew it is gone. It'll be rebuilt. It'll have to be. But gone are the pews where I used to lay my head on my mother's lap. Gone is the choir loft where I used to sing, Gone is the educational building where my grandma had a birthday party, surrounded by family and friends. Gone is the church I once pointed to proudly and said "That's MY church!".
MY Church
Site credit: Joel
Another blog about this: LaShawn Barber's Corner
I'm angry.
I'm frustrated.
I've seen it on the news before, a church burned down. Though I felt for the lives touched, I couldn't honestly know what they were going through. But now the church I'm staring at on the TV is different from all the others. That burning/burnt church on TV and in the pictures is MY church.
For 12 years, Bethel AME, Summerville was the church I went to. It is the Gleaton family church (Gleaton [grandmother]---> McDonald [mother]---> Beasley [me]). When we first moved to Summerville (I'm a D.C. girl), Reverend Gadson was the pastor. He was blind/had a lazy eye, was old and he mumbled (which doesn't keep a seven year old's interest very long). Next was Reverend Washington, who was a lot younger, much more engaging. Then there was Reverend John Paul Brown whose son (unfortuantely) stole my first kiss (on the lips) on the education building porch. When I started going to college there was Reverend Paisley. And now there's Reverend Hunter, whom I've only met once (or twice). Wanna see a little piece of history? If you look hard enough, a part of the concrete walkway to the educational building bears the words (though small and accompanied with trademark smiley face) "Jade was here 2000". Both good and bad memories are housed in Bethel's now burnt down walls, including that first memory of "scrawberries" and "screets".
My mom called me a few days ago to talk to me. "They burned down Bethel." she told me before getting off the phone. "Who?" I asked. She didn't know, but she had told me the pastor, Reverend Hunter had been arrested and charged.
A day or two later. I saw my church, burnt extra crispy on FOX News Channel and remember thinking, "I should not be able to see that Pepsi machine." I was angry that day. I wanted to back hand whoever did this to my church and I was spitting mad.
Yesterday I cried. I saw pictures of my church burning as the Fire Department tried to put out the blaze. I called my boyfriend as tears streamed down my face. MY church had been burnt down. MY church. I so badly wanted to be on Main Street at that moment, but I was 900 miles away at work. It hurt.
To see the church you grew up in a burnt, almost unrecognizable state hurts and it hurts even worse that the pastor (THE PASTOR) may be the one to blame. The Bethel as I knew it is gone. It'll be rebuilt. It'll have to be. But gone are the pews where I used to lay my head on my mother's lap. Gone is the choir loft where I used to sing, Gone is the educational building where my grandma had a birthday party, surrounded by family and friends. Gone is the church I once pointed to proudly and said "That's MY church!".
MY Church
Site credit: Joel
Another blog about this: LaShawn Barber's Corner
posted by BananaBlack at 3:36 AM
1 Comments:
My sympathies to you. It's a painful blow to lose a place you love, and more painful to lose it this why.
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