Grieving Faith

I was raised in black Baptist and African Methodist churches. My grandparents’ Carolina Christianity migrated with them to Washington D.C. As they ambled around the kitchen preparing dinner or in the alley side herb garden, they hummed hymns under their breaths. They got down on their knees at bedside every morning and every night. They told me that Jesus loved the little children.

I spent several weeknights and all day Sunday in church. I joined the Sunbeam Children’s Choir at church when I...