When I first moved to Florida, in 1986, my subdivision was still in the process of being built. The lot to the right of my house was still wooded, mostly with scrub oaks that were strangely twisted to one side, as if they had grown from seedlings in the relentless blast of a strong wind. That lot, with streaks of white sand visible in places, allowed me to imagine I was living on the beach. That fantasy didn’t last long. The bulldozers came and razed. A house was erected. And new neighbors moved in. The first time I saw Brenda Donaldson, she was out at her mailbox collecting her mail at the same time I had walked out to get mine. The main thing I remember from that meeting was her enormous, lonely-looking eyes, hoping for a friend. Having spent time traveling around as a military wife, I understood those eyes. I became her friend.
Brenda somehow heard of these people, “Unitarian Universalists.” And she started bugging me to attend one of their services with her. I was skeptical of the idea: what the heck was a “Unitarian Universalist?” I was even more skeptical when I went in search of their church. It was no church: it was a house! A house with the front blinds askew. I looked dubiously at the building and started composing “No way!” speeches in my mind to deliver to Brenda. But she was persistent. And when she found out that these Unitarian Universalists were having a Saturday night get-together in which the minister would be giving lessons in Cajun dancing, I allowed myself to be dragged along.
When we entered the building we found we were almost the first ones to arrive. So we sat in the little front room and waited, and I, for one, was a bit nervous. There was one couple waiting also, and they must have sensed and seen my nervousness, for the tall man with the mischievous, twinkling eyes; thinning gray hair; and cheery red suspenders began making jokes that increased my nervousness, while the pretty, somehow artistically-dressed woman at his side giggled. Brenda and I exchanged glances out of the corners of our eyes, and I wondered if a quiet night at home would not be a better idea.
But then the door opened, repeatedly. Laughing, cheerful people flooded through, spilling past me and Brenda down to a large, sunken living-room. There was color, there was gaiety. Suddenly, something inside me said: “Party!” And that quickly became very easy to do! A riot of zydeco music filled the air, and there was this person people SAID was the minister whirling his partner in a dance performance the likes of which I’d never seen outside the movies! Then he went around, held out his hands, and drew others into the fun. And then, suddenly, there he was, holding his hands out to me! Well, when Brenda asked me as we drove home that night if I wanted to attend the church service the next day, she certainly didn’t get any argument out of me! That first beautiful service was a “flower service,” a UU version of an Easter service. And a UU was joyfully born!
Denise Wong