“The Grass Always Looks Greener…

…on the other side,” my momma used to tell me, with a hint of admonishment in her tone. Why were her words filled with such judgment? i wondered. Did she not see what i saw? Was it that years of living through such hardship soured her outlook on life? Did she not see that the deacons and sisters in this new church lived good lives, as evidenced by their nice clothes, cars, good smelling perfumes, ability to tithe and therefore be favored by God?

As a youth, i resented hearing these words fall from her lips because from my perspective, the grass WAS greener on the other side. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to live in a big house with nice clothes, a car, and utilities that stayed on all year. I longed for the care they lavished on their daughters, like making sure they got their hair done at the salon and giving them an allowance that they used to buy shiny lip gloss that smelled like cherry or bubble gum. With all of these things, their lives must have been great. I wanted that. I longed for that reality. I wondered why my mom didn’t do that for my siblings and me.

My longing for what they had obscured my ability (or perhaps my willingness) to notice the condescending ways they spoke to my mom, the whispers about how we dressed and what that said about how close we were to God. This sentiment was reflected in a comment i overheard one Sunday by someone sitting behind us whom it seemed was commenting on the cleanest pants i could find in the dirty clothes pile because we hadn’t been to the laundry yet: “You have to dress up for the Lord to be favored by Him.” I guess i wasn’t favored.

I also didn’t see that the children of the most active church people were among the most neglected, leaving them to their own devices, which involved promiscuity (especially during church trips), drinking alcohol, and even, in one case i knew about, dealing drugs in the community. It sucked that in spite of my peers were doing, the church, and therefore God (it seemed), considered them more heaven-worthy than me.

Over time, i would learn how little i was favored asking questions that challenged the clergies’ interpretations of the bible, for being economically poor, for having sex out of wedlock, for not wanting to go to church anymore after my friend and daughter of the associate pastor was told to apologize to the church for getting pregnant. The longer we stayed at that church, the more i was able to see with my own eyes the truth of what my mom said. The grass looked greener, but there was no guarantee that it WAS greener.

Though some of those folks had more resources to meet their material needs, the way they treated people, the judgment held in their hearts, the cost of being who they were did not feel good to me. I learned to value the hard work of my mom and others who did their best to feed and clothe my siblings and me. I also came to appreciate that the grass in my life is important and deserving of attention, love, and care.

Photo by Claudel Rheault on Unsplash