by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Mar 13, 2019 | Reflections |
Sometimes words come back to me. They linger long enough to make me wonder what I am supposed to hear in them now. I wrote years ago about my experience on Ash Wednesday with a little boy named Joshua. He was about five. This moment with him is one that will always stick with me, an Ebenezer for my journey with God. In seminary, I served at Big Bethel AME Church in Atlanta. Along with jumping head-first into new traditions, I got to know some of the beautiful people of this historic church. One of my new friends was Joshua. Joshua was an energetic five-year-old boy who never stopped asking questions. His mom, Angela, and his two brothers were at church whenever the doors were open. During Lent, I attended the Ash Wednesday service, ready to help the ministry staff in whatever way I was needed. It turned out that the place I was needed most was right in the pews. The practice of Big Bethel Church was to invite people to come forward to receive ashes. Then anyone wanting a time of personal prayer could remain at the front, praying at the long kneeling bench. Angela took her three boys to receive ashes and then turned on the Mom voice to give them direct instructions: “Go with your oldest brother and sit down quietly.” Angela needed a minute at the altar. Two of the three brothers did exactly as they were told. But my buddy, Joshua, began to dance his way up the aisle, high-fiving everyone he saw. With my best teacher voice, I waved him over,...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Aug 21, 2018 | Reflections, Uncategorized, Wonder |
Yesterday, was a promise keeping day. The promises were made over our son years ago. We stood at the front of a sanctuary with our infant. The minister took him from my arms, and walked down the aisle. He said “This child is not your own. He is a gift from God, and you will spend the rest of your days giving him back to God.” I could not breathe as I whispered yes on that day. He asked us: Do you promise to bring him to know the loving community of the Church? Do you promise to teach him language of faith, until that day when he can say yes to God on his own? We promised that we would. We have, as much as we know how. Every day, in prayers and actions and kindnesses modeled. Every chance we can, in Sunday school and meals and worship and songs. Yesterday he received a gift. He was so excited to receive his very own Bible. With his name engraved on it, he’ll have you know. Our congregation gives a new Bible to first graders, marking the entrance into a new season of faith. Our boy is quick to note that this means donuts, guitar songs and Jenga in the “big kids” Sunday school class. We know it means he is stepping further along in his own journey of faith. The choir sang “Ancient Words,” and I found myself again whispering yes. “Holy words long preserved For our walk in this world. They resound with God’s own heart Oh let the ancient words impart. Ancient words ever true Changing...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Apr 4, 2018 | Reflections |
Today marks fifty years since Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Many organizations and people are remembering today, calling us to “come together for a day of remembrance, activism, and social change, honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.” When I hear the voices today calling us to remember and work for change, the word I hear for myself is LISTEN. Listen to the voices calling for recognition and change. Listen to the people of color standing at pulpits and podiums and PTA meetings and community center tables and City Council meetings who are saying: We have work to do. We have inequities that must be addressed. We have brokenness that needs tending. We have neighbors who cannot breathe, who live in fear, who live in fear for their children. Beloved Community is not yet realized. I hear these sisters and brothers. I want to lean in to listening today. I ask you to do the same today. Here are a few of the voices that have mattered to me lately. Be The Bridge LaTasha Morrison is a force and I am so in awe of her work. She shared about her work with Be the Bridge on Jen Hatmaker’s last podcast. Good stuff, and hearing her story will be a gift to you. I’ve followed this group for a while, and am in discernment about starting a local group. Take a look at “Be The Bridge.” Really good resources here: Danielle Slaughter I first became acquainted with Danielle when her story with Listen to Your Mother broke my heart. I was thrilled to invite her for this...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Mar 7, 2018 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
Oh, these faces. This picture is four generations of strength and sass: my Mama Eller, Nana, my mama, and me. When I hear my own voice these days, I catch little bits of their voices in mine. I sound like Mom. On the phone, Mom sounds more like these two. For International Women’s Day, I find myself thinking about places I have heard women’s voices this year. I joked with my friend Jessica that I should be called the “Monogrammed Feminist,” because that name captures so much of both my sweet, Southern raising and my firm belief in upholding equality for women and girls. We’ll just tuck that name away for another day. This year has been an amazing chorus of voices, with sisters and friends finding their way in new adventures and endeavors. I have voiced conversations that mattered, and practiced #lettinggo with Nikki on our podcast, Glass Half Full. I have preached and led retreats in new places, gathering new friends into my circle: The voices of powerful novels have held new meaning for me in my book club. The Color Purple, Big Little Lies, and The Handmaid’s Tale have taken us into some fascinating conversations. I have learned to celebrate how #Moxie, welcoming Jen Hatmaker into our Macon circle. I have listened to my own Mama try out new skills and shine in the beauty of herself. So, on this #Internationalwomensday 2018, here are FIVE things to inspire. Have a listen, read up, and tell me what inspires you: 1. Gospel Gothic, and that time I joined the gentlemen for Episode 49, when the ladies had...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Nov 2, 2017 | Reflections, Wonder |
I peeked out my upstairs, bedroom window on November 1, about 8:00 am, and looked out into our backyard. Amidst the sunlight peering through fall leaves and the dew glistening on the grass, I saw . . . A tiny storm trooper running full speed through the yard. My little four-year old neighbor. Our dog barking her head off alerted me to this visitor outside. I couldn’t quite get my early-morning brain to pull thoughts together and figure out why he was there, and where his mom was. We had celebrated Halloween with friends and their littles the night before, so I wondered: Did he sleep in his costume last night? (Makes total sense) Did we forget someone when we all went to bed last night? Then, I found my phone and saw this text: After dying laughing, I searched my son’s room and found the mask under a pile of toys and clothes. Obviously. I ran outside and delivered the mask to the little storm trooper and his super-mom in the mini-van. That one is only topped by the text from earlier in the week that made me DIE laughing. I can’t. Cannot. The image of my 100 percent stylish, Type A, take-on-the-world friend hoisting herself onto a mannequin to strip him down made me sit right down and laugh. Which always makes my day brighter. There was also this honest lament made me howl: I mean. Tiny Sister Friend KNOWS the truth about her favorite clothes. She won’t get to wear them again. Probably not ever. Who among us has not felt bummed about a favorite...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Nov 1, 2017 | Reflections, Wonder |
“Spread the map on the table, with the coffee stain Put your finger on the places, show me where you’ve been Is that California, where your teardrops dried? You drew a circle around Georgia, can you tell me why?” A season of quiet does not mean that nothing is happening. Often, it means that things are becoming, growing beneath the surface. Things are stirring in the heart. That has been true for me. After I marched and wrote about it, I felt hurt and hushed by some of the reactions. I felt the impulse to explain myself, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to. So, I decided to shift my attention. I let the noise do what it will, and I turned my face to work that I love. Nurturing friendships, caring for my family, finishing projects, making a home. It’s been a while since I wrote here. A time of listening rather than speaking. I gave myself permission to simply be quiet, to receive the gifts that are before me, and to listen carefully. I heard what I needed to hear. I realized that I do not have to fill the silent space if I want to be quiet. I can be still. I can listen for the Spirit’s voice, for my own voice. It’s there. I can attend to the people who teach me everything, my beloveds. The little one who runs everywhere he goes, who laughs at the things I might miss. The one who listens to me, knows my heart, and loves me well. We have a beautiful home together. I’ve heard so...
