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The second question in the Meet the Moment framework is, “What are the most urgent needs of this moment?” We turned to UUs who have been working to assess specific needs through the lens of that very question as Meet the Moment Wave Cohort leaders.
Wave Cohorts are groups that collectively imagine how Unitarian Universalism can shift, amplify, redirect, or spread out our energy amidst unfathomable changes in our social–political–religious environment. They bring UUs into conversation and practice around particular topics to develop a shared understanding and move toward taking strategic action together. Some are focused on specific identities, while others are thematic, exploring broader practices or institutional changes.
Here, Wave Cohort co-leader Lauren Wyeth shares reflections on the most urgent needs that have emerged from their Wave Cohort discussions.
Imagine with me:
The family next door seems to have a lot going on. The parents are always occupied with household chores or rushing off to the next activity. The children are busy and boisterous.
One day at the grocery store, you notice them in the checkout line. Their credit card has been declined. You realize there have been other signs they’re low on funds. The car hasn’t moved from their driveway in quite a while. One parent seems to have taken on a second job and is away several nights a week.
You’d like to get to know them better, but there’s never a moment for a longer conversation. As a Board member for your congregation, you wish they’d come to church more regularly. You’re concerned about the decline in religious education attendance, and you need the next generation of adults to take on some leadership roles.
Imagine again, from another perspective:
Though you put on a brave face for the kids, you’re not okay. Since you lost SNAP benefits, your grocery budget is stretched thin. The car isn’t safe to drive without new tires.
Any money you can put aside must go toward paying for the assessment the school recommended for your 10-year-old. He struggles to connect with peers and keep up in class but doesn’t qualify for accommodations and support without a diagnosis.
You considered going to church last week but didn’t want to argue with the kids about buying doughnuts at coffee hour. The religious education coordinator emailed and asked you to volunteer next Sunday. You’ll need to be up and at the bus stop early to get there on time.
These imaginary scenes reflect what we hear in meetings with UU parents currently raising children and teens.
But it doesn’t have to end there. Parents also imagine new possibilities for meeting the moment, like this:
On a Saturday evening, the fellowship hall is filling up. There’s a tantalizing aroma coming from the kitchen. The “grandparent brigade” is camped out in a cozy corner, ready to read from a tall stack of picture books.
Another family enters. Their toddler careens across the room and knocks over the stacked books. An older child, wearing last night’s rumpled pajamas, is enlisted to scoop cookie dough onto a sheet. Exhausted parents collapse at a table.
A board member trails in behind her neighbors. It was nice to fill the seats of the minivan again; it hasn’t gotten much use these last few years. She lays out markers and pieces of cardboard. Before long, two high schoolers ask if they can help make signs for the vigil at the capitol tomorrow.
But that will have to wait because someone has just announced that dinner is ready. “Donations are always welcome,” they say, “but there’s no charge. It’s okay to let yourself be fed by this community. We’re glad you’re here, just as you are.”