Acknowledging the "Shadow Side" of My Family's History

Our church graciously granted my wife a six-week sabbatical this summer.  This means we had a chance to do something unusual on a Sunday morning: We could worship where we chose or even [gasp!] choose not to worship at all.   On one of the Sunday's during her leave, we went to Ward's Memorial United Methodist Church located in Owings, MD in Calvert County – very close to the farm where I grew up.  If the name sounds familiar, it's because the church is named after my great-great grandfather Joseph, who sold the land so that a church could be built.  It sounds like a noble gesture, but as my wife did some ancestry work, we discovered there might have been a "shadow side" to the decision.   

In 2021 my dad passed away, and my brother and I became co-owners of the Ward family farm.  In 2025, I sold my portion of the farm to my brother and he became sole owner.  From the start, Laurie and I felt that we should offer some form of "tithe" from the farm sale proceeds. As we prayed about where to give, Ward's Memorial came to mind.   While our contribution doesn't make up for any past injustice that may have transpired, it does acknowledge it – and our desire to forge a “new day" together in Christ.  

 

What follows is an extended version of the remarks I gave on Sunday August 30, 2026, at Ward’s Memorial.  i also included some photos from the day with descriptive captions.  

As you read my story, I encourage you to think about your own,  What “shadows” might be hiding in plain sight in your family’s history?  Perhaps you can probe a bit deeper as I did and learn more about your own story.

The property on which Ward's Memorial sits dataes back to 1907; it was given by my great-great grandfather Joseph Ward  Fire destroyed the original building and a new building was built in 1963.  Remodeling of the second building took place from 1985–1994. Rev. Bruce Chambers (second name in first row) was in his 26th year of  ministry at Wards when the historical summary included below was written.  Since Chambers served from 1932–1960 (~28 years) I deduce that the summary shown below must date to ~1958. 

So, Ananias went and entered the house. He said: “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on your wayhere [on the Road to Damascus] has sent me so you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes and his sight was restored. Then he got up, and was baptized, andafter taking some food, he regained his strength—Acts 9:17–19. 

Greetings, my name is Alan Ward. My wife is Rev. Laurie Gates–Ward, pastor at Good Shepherd UMC in Waldorf, MD.  My wife is currently enjoying a six-week sabbatical leave, which his what allows us to be with you on a Sunday morning.   We have two young adult children, Brady and Rebecca.  I work for NASA as a science writer and am a Certified Lay Servant in the UMC and an Global Ministries Earthkeeper.  I could tell you a lot-more of my story (ask me at the potluck!)  but today I’d like to focus my remarks on a specific place where my family’s story intersects with the tale of this church.  

 

I grew up on a farm called Locust Hill, located about a mile from this church, on the other side of Rte. 260, off of Horace Ward Rd.   The road is named after my great-grandfather Horace.  After my dad passed away in 2021, I became co-owner of that farm with my brother.  Last year, I sold my portion to him, so now he Is the sole owner of the Ward family property. 

 

Where my family story intersects with the story begins several generations ago when the Ward farm was much larger than it is today, extending across what is now Rte. 260 to encompass the property on which this church is built.  I had always been told that my  great-great grandfather, Joseph Ward, sold this property in the early 1900s to allow a church to be built here.  When doing some ancestry research, my wife, with the aid of conference Historian Bonnie McCubbin,  tracked down some of the documentation that confirms this. 

Summary of Ward's UMC's early history (c. 1958).  In the early 1900s Jamison Holland and his wife Louise moved to Paris, MD (now considered part of Owings).  When they arrived, they found there was no church or school (that they could attend) within walking distance.  So, they did something that in that day required courage. They crossed racial barriers, approaching a while family they knew – my paternal great-great grandparents, Joseph  and Ellen  Ward  – about the possibility of purchasing a plot of land from them on which they could build a church.  (Would it also be used as a school?) While Joseph would not give them a deed to the property – because he didn't want the Conference  involved – he did allow Jamison, Louise and their associates to cut down timber on a portion of his property, so long as they used it to build a church (and named it after him).  According to this record, it was not until a little later, in 1906, when Horace Ward (Joesph's son – and my great-grandfather) gave the Trustees of Ward's Church the offical deed to the property (see copy below). Note the history summary shows a picture of William Smith, the oldest living Trustee at the time the article was written.  

Copy of the Deed of Sale with my great-great grandparents signatures.   While the script text is harder to read on this document  it gives the details of the sale and spells out the portion of the farm that was sold so that Ward's Memorial UMC could be built.  The signatures of my great-great grandparents (Joseph and Ellen) are clearly visible. Closer inspection reveals that the original of this document went to Frank Giles, who is listed on the deed, along with Jamison Holland, and the other founding Trustees of Ward's Church. Also, it appears I may have had another relative present for this transaction.  The Justice of the Peace, in front of whom they completed the sale of the property, is someone named Ben H. Ward(?).  So, maybe my ancestors got a family discount for their legal fees? 

 

Now on the surface a white man giving some land so some African Americans can build a church seems like a noble gesture by my dear great-great grandad.  Now y’all can have a church “all to yourselves.”   However, the documentation my wife found also revealed that there were stipulations on the sale.  It seems Joseph required that the church to be built be named in honor of him – hence the name – Ward’s Memorial – that persists to the present day.  Also, based on the segregated history of the time.  I doubt Joseph’s motivation for making the land donation were altruistic.  Quite frankly, he probably did it so he and his white friends could worship more comfortably.  And let’s be clear, when he said comfort, he didn’t mean that there were too many worshippers.  No, he meant that he and his friends would prefer to worship separate from blacks.  In keeping with the wording of the Jim Crow laws of the day, perhaps Joseph could feel good thinking he gave them a “separate but equal” place to worship God.  Although, my guess is my ancestor didn’t give up any high-value property; he kept the fertile land for himself.  Maybe he even got a tax write off for his “benevolence.”

 

I suspect this audience knows this script far better than I do, because you and/or your ancestors have lived some variation on this theme.  For years, I have to admit I only heard the bright side of this family story.  An African American man named Ralph Holland (a relative of Jamison Holland, the "founder" of Ward's), or.  “Mr. Ralph” as we called him, owned a small house and piece of property almost directly across Horace Ward Rd from our farm.  He helped us out on the farm on many occasions, working in the tobacco field, stripping room, bucking hay, and such.  Over time he became friends with my family.  I remember that, particularly after his wife, “Miss Ida” passed away, he would come and visit and talk with my dad  – and especially my mom.  He said many memorable – and I must admit, humorous –  words of wisdom at our kitchen table over the years, often having to do with the subject of money.   But I do recall he also seemed to know something about the history of Ward’s Memorial  He more than once said something to the effect of,  Yeah, Joe Ward ‘bought and paid’ for that church.  Honestly it seemed to frame my ancestor in a positive light, and I was hearing it as a younger child, so I never thought to question it.

 

In retrospect, however,  I realize I hadn’t allowed myself to know the full story.  If you drive down Horace Ward Rd, the home where “Mr. Ralph” once lived is just one of several owned by African American families.  None are particularly fancy homes, but most have persisted for many years, being added onto or remodeled as families grew and changed.  Growing up, my brother would play basketball with some of the kids from across the road.  So, we interacted with each other, riding the school bus, at times playing together.  We always waved when we saw one another; we plowed snow for them  –  but I cannot say that I formed deep friendships with any of the kids my age from across the road.  I knew who they were, but it ended there.  And in all those years, it never occurred to me to inquire why all those families live around the periphery of current or former Ward propriety.  

 

My white privileged bubble of naïveté persisted until I got married, at which point my wife promptly popped it  I think at one point I made this observation to her, and she hardly missed a beat, pointing out that the origin probably dates back to the years after slavery, when people who worked on the Ward farm may have been given some property to live on; they may have even been sharecroppers who got land in exchange for working on the farm.  Lightbulb!  Once I heard it, I felt a bit like the Apostle Paul, in the scripture at the beginning of this article;  it was a bit like scales falling form my eyes to realize what had been there, right in front of me, all along.  Why had I never made the connection? Because now, I couldn’t not see it….

 

I remember when Laurie later broached this same topic with my dad, he too seemed to be blissfully unaware of this history, still questioning my wife if that was the reason those homes were there.  It illustrates how we can choose to overlook the shadow side of our family history for a long time.  

 

I don’t want to simplify things too much, these issues have to do with race are thorny and complex,  I’m not here to cast judgment on my ancestors.  I can't say for sure what Joseph's motives were in selling this property.  A common response from people like me waking up the realities of injustices done by previous generations of their family is to say: “Well,  It wasn’t ME that did it, so I can’t be responsible.” It’s an understandable position.  While technically the statement is true , I think it the knee-jerk reaction to say it reveals a  defensive posture that we as white people take in discussions of race and reconciliation.   In general, we don’t have a great deal of tolerance for discussing these kinds of topics at all. 

 

While sometimes it might be true there’s really nothing we can do about a past injustice, often, if we’re willing to keep the conversation going and get creative, we discover that there are things that can be done.  We just have to choose to do them.   

My wife, Rev,. Laurie Gates–Ward, [Good Shepherd UMC, Waldorf, MD]  and I with Pastor Eloise Newman [Ward's Mermorial UMC, Owings, MD] on August 24, 2026, on the altar at Ward's Memorial. 

 

Which brings me to why my wife and I are here standing before this congregation today, I mentioned that last year,  we sold our portion of the family farm to my brother.  Co-ownership may have seemed like a good idea when my dad set it up via a Trust but trust me when I tell you that it was not a good situation for all parties involved.  While it was hard to let go of the land, I think it was the right thing for me, and it allowed the farm to stay in our family, which I really did want to see happen. 

 

Not long after the sale was final, Laurie and I sensed that we should “tithe” on a portion of the income received.  And as we thought and prayed about it, one of the ideas that kept coming back to us was to offer a financial gift to the church that bares my family’s name. No, this small gift doesn’t “make up” for injustices committed by past generations of my family – as if that were possible.  The point is to acknowledge whatever happened in the past that may have been unjust and to offer a financial gift as a token of that recognition and a commitment to work together toward the “hopeful future” we believe God envisions for all people.  

We came on a day where Ward's Memorial UMC jointed with St. Matthews UMC for a day of spirit-filled worship that included uplifting music.  There was a choir that led the music for the morning [top]. Two of the choir members performed a duet for one song [bottom]. There was also plenty of congregational singing, prayer, and praising God our Savior during the service.  

Pastor Lesley Newman–Adams [St. Matthews UMC, Shady Side, MD] gave the morning message when we visited Ward's Memorial on August 24.  Her sermon remind us we have a: "A Charge to Keep," and was based on Matthew 16:21–28.  Lesley is the daughter of  Pastor Eloise Newman [Ward's Memorial UMC], so there is a literal family connection between these two congregations, as well as a deep connection to the Holy Spirit.. Both those connections could be felt during our worship experience on August 24, and during the yummy potluck lunch that followed. 

It’s clear that however the property came into your hands, you and the saints that came before you in this place have made good use of this property.  I can sense that God is present here.  Despite the questionable motives of the original land deal, you all have made this place a spiritual home for many years.  As with Joseph (both the one in Genesis and my ancestor), what someone may have intended for evil, you all have turned into good.  I pray this gift can be put to work to keep building the Kin-dom of God here at Ward’s Memorial.

The Challenge of Christmas

During Advent, I’ve been reading a book called Let God: Spiritual Conversations with François Fénelon [Dirty Paper Press (2023)]. The author, Winn Collier, translated Fénelon’s work from French into English, and organized the letters under eight overarching questions to help modern readers digest the content and benefit from Fénelon’s wisdom and spiritual guidance.  A short letter from the book is part of this devotional.   

Fénelon was a French bishop who lived from 1651–1715, during the reign of Louis XIV in France, which was known for its debased character that included lust for power, copious extravagance, and sexual perversion.  (In other words: power, money, and sex. These three traits summarize the “vices” of both individuals and Empires.) Fenelon was no stranger to life in the court of Louis XIV having served as a tutor for the king’s grandson.  

 

Later he moved to a church in another part of France, farther away from the royal trappings.  However,  he maintained connections with several younger friends he knew at Versailles and seems to have become a spiritual guide or mentor for them. They communicated via letters.  The young friends asked Fénelon for advice on a variety of topics and Fénelon responded. The letters sent by the friends are lost to history, but Fénelon’s responses have been preserved.  

 

These are personal correspondences where Fénelon is responding to urgent concerns from his friends. He’s does’t wax philosophic in his replies, rather he offers practical guidance to real people on how to live the Christian life in the challenging context of the royal court of Louis XIV—not unlike the Epistles in the New Testament.  

 

The themes Fénelon emphasizes in his letters, such as peace, hope, love, humility, simplicity, obedience, and dying to self, are found throughout the Bible – especially the stories we read during Advent and Christmas.  The archetypes we encounter in the birth narratives (Luke 1–2, Matthew 1–3) exemplify these qualities: Zechariah, Elizabeth, John the Baptist, Mary, Joseph, the Shepherds, the Wise Men – and of course, Jesus.

 

What Fénelon did in the 17th century would be like someone offering wisdom on how to be faithful to God in King Herod’s court or living under his brutal rule – which is in fact the essence of what the Gospel of Matthew’s birth story is all about.  Joseph shows the readers faith and obedience in contrast to how Herod (the King) behaves. {Luke does something similar, but the “evil empire” is Rome ruled by Caesar Augustus.)

 

With this background in mind let’s turn to the reading from Let God…

 

As you read this what Advent or Christmas themes or stories come to your mind?

 

To a Spiritually Lethargic Friend [Let God, p. 53]

[Fourth Conversation: What do I do when I’m broken down?, p. 53]

 

Dear Friend, 

 

Peace… Just sit in it. It’s not your job to work up passion and fiery devotion for God. It doesn’t depend on you. All you can do, all you are responsible to do, is to choose the one whom you will obey. Hand your will, your obedience, over to God. Don’t hold anything back.

 

Frankly it’s irrelevant how much intense feeling you have in your spiritual life right now. The most important question to ask: Do I want what God wants? Humbly confess your faults, Don’t hold onto your world. Abandon yourself to God. Choose to love God more than you love yourself. Desire God’s name to be made great. Desire God to have God’s way—want that more than you want your own life. If you don’t feel these things, then just want to feel it, hoping you will someday. In the meantime, ask God to give you this kind of love for him. God will love you and he will pour peace into your heart. 

 

This short letter from Fénelon pulsates with power that is ironically found by letting go of control.  It makes me think of Mary – and this is a fitting choice to consider, since the third Sunday of Advent traditionally focuses on her story in Luke 1:26–56.

 

In the letter Fénelon advises his protege to “Abandon yourself to God.” I see Mary doing this after the Annunciation, when in the last verse )  she answers Gabriel, “I am the Lord’s servant, let it be as you say”—Luke 1:38.

 

Two lines later, Fénelon goes on to instruct his spiritually lethargic friend to: “Desire God’s name to be made great,” This makes me think of Mary’s Magnificat, the revolutionary statement (likely a song) she offers up after she visits Elizabeth, and receives comfort and confirmation from her older, wiser, relative, which seems to help Mary come to terms with her role.  if she wasn’t sure before, she now fully accepts she will become theotokos – the God bearer – and the human mother of Jesus the Christ, the Savior of the World.  Mary’s song recognizes the kind of Messiah Jesus will be:

 

46 And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord,

47 and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior.

48 for he has looked with favor on the lowy state of his servant.
    Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed,

49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
    and holy is his name;

50 indeed, his mercy is for those who fear him
    from generation to generation.

51 He has shown strength with his arm;
    he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones
    and lifted up the lowly;

53 he has filled the hungry with good things
    and sent the rich away empty.

54 He has come to the aid of his child Israel,
    in remembrance of his mercy,

55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
    to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

 

But the rest of the second paragraph of Fénelon’s letter resonates with my perception of Mary too.  I imagine she must have still been in some ways struggling as a young unwed woman to fully embrace her role and, to believe the miraculous message, accept it, and obey without too much questioning, praying for God to to “pour peace” into her heart.  

 

In the end all she has to do (and all we have to do) is, as Fénelon says in the opening of his letter to his friend: “Peace, Just sit in it… Choose the one whom you will obey Hand your will, your obedience, over to God. Don’t hold anything back.”  Simple, right?!  

 

I think that this in a nutshell is the challenge of Christmas.  Are we up for it?

Gardening Tips from "The Three Sisters"

  

I planted it, Apollos watered it, but Christ makes it grow—1 Corinthians 3:6

 

There’s the garden I planned, and the garden that God – the master Gardener – provides…

 

 July 10, 2025

August 25, 2025

The two photos above are of my 2025 flower garden at diiferent times .  The huge vine that dominates the photo on the bottom is one of the most dramatic examples I’ve ever seen of a volunteer plant altering what I had planted. It is most likely a gourd plant – as we had some old, dried gourds on the porch last fall that squirrels broke open and scattered the seeds around the yard. At least one of them clearly found a hospitable spot to grow in my garden.  

 

It emerged as a single, fragile seedling that could’ve been mistaken for a weed had I not noticed it before chopping with my hoe.  It grew in the shade of other perennial plants.  Notice it’s not even visible in the photo on the right taken in July, but by August it has spread its huge leaves and long tendrils more than 10’ from the source, – even spreading beyond my flower garden into the front yard in search of filtered sun and nutrients. 

 

Tall coneflowers in my garden shaded the area where the seedling emerged, but the tables have turned dramatically. They’ve virtually vanished! Only a few coneflower stalks and pale blooms remain, peeking out from under the massive leaves of the vine.

 

As can be seen in the close-up photos above, a few of the big yellow blooms on my vine appear to be producing fruit – “gourdlings” if you will.  So, I might have an unexpected harvest come fall!

It’s interesting to observe how, to borrow a line from Jurassic Park: “nature finds a way.”

 

As I pondered this garden scene recently a chapter in the book, Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robyn Wall Kimmerer called “The Three Sisters” came to mind.  The author (who is Indigenous and trained as a botanist) describes how Indigenous peoples would plant corn, beans, and squash together.  

 

Braiding Sweetgrass

Kimmerer explains that the Indigenous method of agriculture is much more self-sustaining than the monoculture techniques that are the norm in the Western world today. She expounds upon her botanical wisdom to describe in detail how the Three Sisters enjoy a reciprocal relationship – with each plant giving to and receiving from the others.   To summarize, the corn comes up first and grows straight and tall.  Squash seeds are slowest to emerge but over time they spread out along the ground in search of sun and nutrients, extending far from their source (not unlike the vine that is currently taking over my front yard).  Kimmerer likens beans to the middle child; they occupy the middle ground in terms of germination order, and they adapt to their surroundings.  The bean plants wind their way around the corn stalks to reach toward the sun.  Beans are also legumes, which means they take in atmospheric nitrogen (N)  and convert it to ammonia (NH₃), which benefits all three of the sisters.  (This process is called fixation.)  

 This description stands in contrast to monoculture, where a single crop (e.g., corn or wheat)  is planted in long straight rows.  While this method of farming was “easier” for settler-colonists to implement, it is also far more damaging to the land.  Monoculture disrupts the natural ecosystem and depletes the soil of key nutrients, requiring the use of chemical fertilizers to replenish the soil – and these fertilizers are dependent on the continued extraction of fossil fuels for their production. 

 

As I watch what takes place in my garden every year,  I think I see a bit of the wisdom of “The Three Sisters” emerge.  I start with what I know:  my settler colonist methods of gardening.    While I  don’t plant in straight rows per se, I still think in terms of individual, non-native plants.  I plan what I will put in which open space.  I go to the nursery (or to the box store) to purchase them in their plastic packaging, which I try to recycle or, even better, take back to the nursery for reuse.

 

Look at the two photos at the beginning of this article again.  The top photo was taken in early July.  You can see a neat arrangement of colorful impatiens in the foreground, along with some other shade-loving plants in the rear.  Likewise, if you look closely, in the background  you can see salvia, petunias and other plants each in the place I chose for them.  Perennials fill a space in the middle.  They come back each year, so I wait to see what emerges after the winter, then work around them when planning my garden and positioning my annuals. (If you do it right, the perennials fill more space each year, theoretically making your work as gardener easier.)   At this stage, the garden was still neatly confined to its boundaries – and it’s mostly what I planted.  

 

Contrast that with the bottom photo, which was taken in late August.  Inevitably, every year some of plants I plant succumb to the heat and/or other stresses.  Quite often, a volunteer plant will spring up in the empty space created that one would almost swear had been part of “the plan” all along.   My (probable) gourd plant is a good example.  It began life as a volunteer, a seedling that sprang up in the middle of my perennials that grew into a vine that dominates the second photo.  

 

The resulting mix of my plans as gardener and the master Gardener’s modifications result in something more beautiful and bountiful than I could’ve produced by my effort alone.  

 

There’s an elegant synergy between the apprentice gardener (me) and the master Gardener (by which I mean God as experienced through nature).   This isn’t a relationship I can plan; I know it will happen each year, but each year will be unique. The key is to receive what the Gardener has for me.

 

As its name implies. a volunteer emerges where the seeds fall, which won’t always be the “ideal” location.  Case and point: the gourd vine in my garden is clearly taking over the area where it grows.  I also have a pineapple sage plant that began as a small plant but comes back larger each year.  It now manifests as a huge bush (nay, small tree!!) that puts off fiery red blooms in fall.  As it grows larger during summer, it inevitably shades out flowers that I labored to plant.  I know when I plant the garden that some of what I sew won’t make it to fall.  It will offer beauty for a while until my sage (or some other larger plant) overtakes it later in the growing season.  

 

I see what’s happening in my garden as a metaphor for our spiritual lives.  It’s good to plan and have vision for things we want to accomplish; in fact, it’s required. Wisdom literature tells us that where there is no vision, the people perish—Proverbs 29:18.  However, while vision is an essential starting point, it is just the beginning.  As we intentionally seek to make the vision reality using the means at our disposal, as our dreams begin to intersect with the hardscrabble reality of living them out in real life, the initial vision might need to be modified.  Perhaps it needs to contract? Maybe it needs to grow?!  The straight row we envisioned starting out turns out to have many twists and turns we didn’t anticipate  Just like in my garden, some of our  initial “plantings” may have to die to make room for something more beautiful and enduring to emerge.  Such a change might provoke anxiety as ‘it’s not going according to my vision.”  In such cases – even when we aren’t quite sure what it is – we must trust that the master Gardener sees a far bigger picture than we do and will help bring the full vision to fruition.  If we faithfully do our part to the best of our ability, God will take care of the rest.  We need not worry (Matthew 6:25); we can relax and enjoy the scenery (Matthew 6: 28–29).