Michael, the kids and I set off with excitement and anticipation
to visit the Dream Center in St. Louis to hear Joyce Meyer speak on Sunday,
August 3rd. I woke up early
and measured the minutes to get us all out the door in plenty of time. With
packed lunches, water bottles and a camera full of batteries, the trip would take
us just under an hour. We wanted to have enough time to arrive at the 10:00 service
without rushing. As it turned out, we had a lot of extra time and so Michael
and I decided to pull out our cake list and find a cake nearby. With a good 40 minute leeway, we found
ourselves just minutes from the Ferguson Station Depot cake.
The cake was nestled in a quiet, peaceful little area of St. Louis. Just up the hill from the cake was a little depot
where you could buy ice cream. We took a
few photos with the cake and both agreed we would like to return here in the
future to visit the depot and spend a little more time exploring the city walk.
As it turned out, we
did make it to the Dream Center in time to get in the church to hear Joyce
Meyer but a last minute decision to put our two boys in the children’s ministry
cost us our lead time. Payton readily
joined his 5 year old class but Taylor was not at all happy as he had almost fallen asleep as we pulled in and it took awhile to get him settled, I still left
him in tears knowing they would call if he didn't adjust. That decision resulted in locked doors to the
sanctuary as we returned from checking the children in and we were ushered
downstairs to the overflow basement. Did
we receive a good word from Joyce? sure. But the disappointment of meticulously
planning to arrive in time and get seats to hear and see her in person, only to
spend the hour viewing her from below in the basement was crushing. I admit, I sat outside the locked doors of
the entry way for a few minutes because I was so disappointed. "Why didn’t they tell us that if we left to
take the children to their rooms that it would cost us our seats? Do they know
we drove an hour to get here? Can’t they just let us stand in the back?" Then I heard it, a small voice in my head saying, “You’re acting like an entitled white
girl. Are you here to see Joyce or hear
her message?" So appropriately humbled, Mike
and I headed downstairs to the basement. We watched Joyce from a wavy screen, heard
the vibrations of the music from above our heads while listening to only a handful
of voices praising God down below. We were sitting with those bused in from the
homeless shelters, others that may have lingered too long checking their children in too, and those who did not know the service started at 10 instead of the usual later time. But what really choked
me up was that the ushers were also locked out of their own service. They
exuded joy and were more than gracious to us the two suburban white
visitors. We felt honored to receive the
message we heard that day and went on to tour north county St. Louis and photograph
more cakes. Each cake found has an
adventure and memory attached to it. However, the
decision to visit Ferguson Missouri cake before church that morning cost me. It cost me disappointment.
In light of the recent escalating violence resulting from the
fatal shooting of Michael Brown, I consider myself lucky to have captured this
little neighborhood in St. Louis County before the riots and the looting. I
thought about my boys who both spent their morning as the only white children
in their Sunday school class. Yet neither mentioned or even noticed that they
were of a different skin color; instead they talked excitedly about the games they played, the pictures they made and the snacks they had. Michael
and I mused about the idea of racism. When does skin color become an issue? Is it taught? Who can know what is inside the heart of man. Only God knows what was going on in the mind
of the officer and Michael Brown the night of that fatal shooting. It would benefit both sides to stand down and
pray for peace. The story is still unfolding and no matter the outcome, there
are no winners in the situation. The
little cake that put Ferguson Missouri on the map for me and my family, is no longer
a cake that stirs up disappointment when I look at my photographs, instead it reminds me to have hope. Hope for peace and hope for good to come out of an awful situation.
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