Clare Wittmann

November 5, 2000

For years my sister, Peggy, suggested I attend the Unitarian Church. She had been going to the Unitarian Church in West Vancouver for quite some time. Peggy was convinced I’d find it a warm and welcoming place and one where I’d find like-minded people. And for years I agreed but never managed to walk in those doors.

My very first visit to First was November 21, 1998 - the annual auction. A fellow working at the registration desk welcomed me with open arms. I was planning to come for the silent auction only, but he convinced me to stay for the live auction.

I felt awkward and out of place. Didn’t talk to anyone, likewise no one talked to me. However I left feeling a sense of accomplishment. Now I could tell my sister that I had been to the Unitarian Church.

A week later was an orientation night. Somehow I mustered up the courage to go. But I was incredibly nervous. For this time I was admitting I wanted to know more. And also admitting I knew nothing about this faith. As it turned out there were just two of us - Donna and me. That made it a bit easier. I listened to Donna - said very little, nodded and smiled. As I watched the video I fretted through the whole thing. How would I ever remember anything about the video? What if Donna asked me questions?

December 6, 1998 was the first service I attended. John Benford’s sermon "It is Something to Have Been" was eloquent and moving. I was very impressed. After the service I walked up the stairs to the Visitors table. It felt like I was walking to the electric chair - paralyzed with fear. How would I be able to talk to anyone? Small talk was not one of my strengths. But I forged ahead. There was no one at the visitor’s table. That gave me some sense of relief. I poured my own cup of coffee and proceeded into Workman Hall. There was a sea of strangers. I headed to read the wall. (I’m sure many have done the same thing.)

Every now and then I’d turn around and look at the crowd of people, listen to the roar of voices, see the expressions on the faces. These people were truly connecting with one another. I didn’t feel welcome. I certainly didn’t belong. These people knew each other - they exchanged laughter, tears, they exchanged ideas and plans.

I went home thinking about the experience.

No one talked to me. But it didn’t scare me away. I knew I’d go back. There was something about that place that felt good. But it would take an awful lot of courage.

The following Sunday I returned. And once again got a green mug. This time someone poured my coffee but other than a ‘good morning’ there was no exchange.

My stomach churned as I walked into Workman Hall once again - holding that green mug higher than I had the week before. "This time people will see my mug, and see me and they’ll talk to me" I told myself. But after a few minutes of feeling like a lost child I headed back to the safety of the wall.

When I went home this time, the feeling was different. I analyzed what this experience had been. The energy in Workman Hall was incredible. People were NOT unfriendly; in fact it was quite the opposite. They were very friendly and warm and supportive - they were everything I had been hoping to find. They were so appreciative of this place they had and the people they knew. They had no time to notice the stranger with the green mug.

For several Sundays I tried to fit in. No more stopping at the visitors table. No more green mug for me. I marched right up and got me a white mug and a cup of NON-VISITOR coffee. Within a few weeks I was talking to a few people. In passing, Diane Bosman commented that she thought I’d been around for a long time - I just seemed to fit in. While it seemed a great compliment it didn’t alleviate the alienation I still felt.

I remember saying "for a place that boasts being a Welcoming Congregation it’s not a very welcoming community." I’ve heard myself say that many times since. And it’s not that we’re unfriendly. We are just so happy to be together that we sometimes forget to look over our shoulders to keep our eyes peeled for new faces. We are so happy with what we’ve found and yet we forget to share it.

Some people might not return after a similar first experience to mine. We need to realize this. I came back because each time I walked in the door my whole being was enhanced.

I’ve recently accepted the position of Chair of the Welcoming Committee. As I see it, part of my role is to ensure that as a congregation we are being as welcoming as we can possibly be. I believe we can do a better job. I believe our sense of community will strengthen as we hold out a hand to one more. I encourage everyone to join me in doing so. Be welcoming. You don’t need to know the faith inside out - I certainly don’t. But I belong here. And I want everyone to feel that they belong here too.

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