Jim Johnson

Beacon Is a Savior

My children led me to Beacon. Well, actually, I drove them from Westfield to the building and stayed for the service, which I liked. After telling my wife, Carolyn, how much I liked Beacon, she decided to put down her Sunday New York Times and join me. Our search for our congregation had been a long odyssey.

Four decades ago, my Mother, a Methodist, insisted that Carolyn and I give our daughters, Debbie and Kathie, a religious education. We tried the Presbyterians who, true Calvinists, scolded us when the kids did not show up for classes.

At Ethical Culture, the children were running up and down the stairs, so we left by the door.

By default we next tried what has become Beacon. Neither of us knew anything about Unitarian-Universalism.

Coffee hour was filled with friendly people who listened to us. They also stood for something. Years later, many in the congregation joined Fountain Baptist Church and marched down Springfield Avenue for Black Lives Matter. I had not marched since my union days. It felt good.

Over a decade ago, while birding alone early in the morning in Nantucket, a fool in a large truck hit me head-on coming over the top of a hill, totaling my car. At our rented cottage, Carolyn saw that I was in shock. I called Beacon and the Reverend Vanessa Southern counseled with me over the phone. I broke down in tears.  Later in the day, the Reverend Emilie Boggis also heard me out. Then Vanessa followed up.  Slowly, the shock lessened, and Carolyn and I finished our trip.

The worst thing parents can suffer lay in front of us.  In 2010,  our older daughter, Debbie Robson, dropped dead of an aneurysm. We flew to Richmond, again in shock. For a number of years, our friends in the congregation have helped us. Emilie came to our home, counseled us, and led a small service by a Crepe Myrtle we had planted in Debbie's grade-school yard.  

You never forget the loss of a child, but we also remember the many Beacon members who stood by us. The folks in my community group, of course, who have gotten to know me down to the bottom of my shoes, were there for me in my grief. 

Meditation helped me as well. Beacon offers a useful meditation in every service. Thich Nat Hahn's books opened the door for me, prompting me to organize a Beacon meditation group. I still use mindfulness every day -- and more than once if I get flustered or start to rush on a project. Sometimes just stopping and breathing in and out through your nose, observing precisely where you are, or feeling the soil or sidewalk beneath your feet puts you back in the moment, freed of the endless chatter in your head.

You can see that I fit well in Beacon.