Of Coffee and Community

Katherine Baylis

I learned to make coffee at age six. Every Saturday morning, I’d run into the master bedroom, jump on my mom, and ask her if she was awake. She began teaching me how to make coffee so that when I came in to bug her, at least I’d have a cup of coffee in hand — usually accompanied by a plate with a piece of unbuttered toast, some raw carrots, and a couple cherry tomatoes on it.

From then on, many of our family traditions revolved around coffee. By sixth grade, I started taking a travel mug with me to school filled to the brim with herbal peach tea. Even though the tea didn’t actually have any caffeine, I carried it with the attitude of a cranky coffee drinker. Sometime in high school I became a fully-fledged coffee addict. It became an unspoken rule in our family that if one of us went out to get coffee, the person would bring some back for the other. It should also be noted that my family happens to be comprised of only two people.

At some point, the word “family” grew to encompass a connotation of at least three people. Perhaps it's perpetuated by things like a family phone plan and family-style buffets. But somehow it always felt just a little bit odd for me to call ourselves a family. I feel like it needs a preface; “we’re a small family,” “it’s just us,” or, my favorite, “we’re basically the Gilmore Girls.” And though I’ve always considered us a family in the traditional sense of the word, I still notice that a two-person family rarely clicks with people’s expectations of what that word means.

There is nothing wrong with being raised by a single parent, and there is nothing wrong with single parenthood. I’m pretty sure that the majority of people reading this would agree with that statement. Yet non-traditional families tend to have a more difficult time assimilating into Christian expectations of what a family is. There are many nuances to that discussion, many of which I am not equipped to discuss adequately. However, there seems to be some misinformation in the evangelical community about the effects of raising a child with only one parent; and, similarly, what it means to be a single parent. I’ve noticed that some listen to statistics more than people, while others simply believe that no one in the church could make such hurtful assumptions.

I’d like to help shed some light on both areas. While my story is not necessarily unique, I would be remiss if I did not say first and foremost that every situation is different, as is every person involved. But I believe that many of my experiences with people in the evangelical community as a child raised by a single parent are common to others with situations like mine.

Among the several stories I could tell, for now I’d like to share a story from my sophomore year as a student at a Christian college. I was an editor for our college newspaper working on an article we were planning to publish. The writer was talking about a recent school shooting and went off on a side discussion about how it must have been the individual’s upbringing that led him to become so broken because, according to this writer, children raised with only one parent couldn’t possibly be loved enough because God intended for us to have two parents. I tried to encourage him to consider how such sweeping statements could be offensive, but he wouldn’t listen. Eventually it got to the point that I just let someone else take over editing his article.

That was the first time I’d heard that argument from a Christian, but it certainly wasn’t the last. Though I know I’m no expert in family psychology, there are a number of things that can affect a child’s development. Two parents don’t always make a happy home; and one parent doesn’t always make an unhappy one. Both have their hardships and obstacles to overcome, but by frequently using a traditional family structure as the sole example of a good Christian family, we neglect the families that are non-traditional by placing them in a different category of family. We’re the caveat at the end of a sermon, the appendix to an explanation of God as a Father.

I had a chance to talk with Julie Clemens, director of disability ministries, about the non-traditional families she sees in the church, particularly in the STARS program. Many of the moms of STARS, she said, are single, widowed, or have other non-traditional family structures. It was during the pandemic that Julie saw the struggles of these single moms become most pronounced. She listed off name after name of STARS moms who helped organize meals to be delivered or impromptu prayer groups that met at the end of their children’s Sunday school lessons over Zoom.

Long before the pandemic, one of the most impactful events that was organized was Friday Night Fun which provides evening activities for members of STARS and allowed the moms a night off to pray for and support one another “These moms are used to advocating 24/7 and it doesn’t end at 18,” Julie told me. “They fight for their rights and for them to be included.” As Julie and I talked and I heard all these incredible stories of STARS moms supporting each other, I wondered aloud to her, what types of communities best support non-traditional families? Specific single-parent small groups? After a moment’s pause Julie said, “No; singleness doesn’t define who they are. They’re just tired of explaining it or saying it.” We are one church, one community, one family. It comes down to getting to know your community, listening to the stories, and meeting people in their struggles wherever they are.

I had a good friend recently tell me that even though I’d been through some hard things, he was never worried about me because he knew I was good at just coping. Perhaps it's this type of sentiment that prevents people from feeling the need to step in and support non-traditional families. They seem fine and happy, their kids are doing well in school, why should I step in? In some cases, it may not be appropriate to offer help. That said, I can’t even begin to count the times growing up that my friends' families stepped in and offered to watch me for the afternoon, offered to pick me up from sleepovers, invited me over for dinner after practice — anything to give my mom a break and let her know that she had people behind her. I was absorbed into so many families and cared for by so many people that now when people ask about my extended family, I say I was raised by a community. Having a community that sees the need and just acts on it — I think that’s the end goal. Julie best summed it up in our conversation: “Church is family. We should be caring for our family.” Family is perhaps why I love conversing with friends over coffee so much. Somehow, I feel as though they’ve unwittingly engaged in one of my family’s traditions and with that comes a sense of being known and heard. Finding that sense of community, of feeling known, can sometimes be challenging. For example, I generally don’t attend church services on Father’s Day because of past experiences that have unintentionally made an already difficult day more painful. This year, however, was the first in almost five years that I attend a church service on Father’s Day in person. That is due in large part to the community at College Church.

But we, as participants in the global church and the larger evangelical community, can do better to support single-parent and non-traditional families. I think that starts with listening to the stories and needs of those families and recognizing that just because they are able to pull it together on a daily basis doesn’t mean they don’t need your support. Be compassionate in the way you engage in conversation. We are not a statistic.

Labels like “broken families” don’t just stick, they can brand us as well. We are all broken apart from God. We, as a global church, can do better in supporting non-traditional families and changing that mentality that can be damaging and hurtful to so many; and it starts with listening.