Back In the Day Pt. I [1.1]

This was the day I’d been waiting for. I sat in the front pew dressed in all white rehearsing what I was going to say. I knew this next step was a big deal and a very special moment in my faith. As I rehearsed all the reasons why I was ready to make this public dedication, my name was called. My sister friends, Tammy, Debbie, Patricia, and I all held hands as we made our way to the blue rubber pool being filled with cold water running from the downstairs bathroom sink. One by one, we accepted Jesus as our personal Savior and took the plunge as our families sat and watched. 

The next day felt different and the same. For me, everything had changed, but in the Randolph High hallways, the hustle and bustle was the same. I had yet to tell my close friend group of my “life altering” decision to get baptized. “How was your weekend?” I was asked. Afraid to share in fear that I would be misunderstood, I said, “really good, church was REALLY good.” That was it. My 15-year-old self was used to compartmentalizing relationships, and guarding parts of me until I felt it was safe to share more. 

My siblings and I were close compared to most. Our parents raised us that way, reminding us every chance they got that we were each other’s first friends especially when we got into fights, or occasionally dared to ask to go hang out with an outside friend. As the youngest, I was cared for– able to explore freely knowing someone had my back. My sister served as my second mother, often tasked with watching me and my two brothers when my parents were away. She was the prototype– copying her style every chance I got. But with a 5 year age difference, she would often seek solace in her own age group, leaving me at the mercy of my basketball-loving and WWF-obsessed brothers. There was only so much a girl could take. 

Thankfully, my cousin Joanne would visit from time to time and my social tank would be refilled again. It was nice having her around since she seemed to have more freedom than me. She attended New Pentecostal Church of God a.k.a Babson which served as a sister church to mine. Being able to hang out with others my age outside of my Sunday church commitments was fun. So whenever I could, I’d use that as my chance to “go out” and socialize with Joanne’s church friends. My haitian parents could never say no to two teen girls going to church on a Wednesday night. And that’s what we would do: go to her church and hang out. Her friend group was a group of boys and Joane. 

When I met Joane, I remember thinking about how pretty she was. Initially, there wasn’t much interaction between us. As I hung out with the others, the consensus was always the same: Joane was cool and down to earth. I liked cool and down-to-earth. She carried herself differently from the rest of our mutual friends. With her being a year older than me and two plus years older than some of the others, she was looked up to. As we spent more time together, we realized that we shared many similar interests. Two haitian girls learning to navigate our faith and friendships in the inner city of Boston. But more importantly, I felt comfortable just being myself and leaving room for her to do the same. Unknowingly, this would be the beginning of a long term sistership.

“Your love has given me much joy and comfort, my [sister], for your kindness has often refreshed the hearts of God’s people.”

— Philemon 1:7 (NLT)