Church. I love the church. The body. The community. The connection. The relationship. I love gathering to sing together to the One who breathes life. Love it. It is so integrated into who I am that I hardly even know how to part from it. Not because of family tradition...because of my own longing....because Jesus found me and befriended me and changed my life.
But then....there was divorce. And divorce is messy. And troublesome. And has two sides. And those sides can be divisive. And being united in one building is a bit....ok, a LOT....awkward. And sometimes it is simply painful. Beyond any feelings that I have, I have been praying about how to not divide people in the community and still be honest. How to be me and tell my story without making people feel as if they are taking sides. God has done a work in my life. His work is as great and as ongoing as the story of someone who made it through. It was hard. And scary. And IS hard and scary. But there is no freedom to tell that story. And....seriously...is..I won't be missed. It's sad but true. It's much because he is so active....and I became less so. And while I long to go and be with those that are my family and whom I love, I am realizing slowly that it's not enough. I want to actually be a part. Not an outsider going in to soak up some of the spiritual connection. Not someone that causes others to stumble because they see my not sitting with my ex. Or not talking to him. Or.....you name it. I could definitely be a stumbling block. I'm no longer a person that will be asked to lead a woman's retreat or such. And I don't think that I want to work in the children's department since I do that five days a week. I could teach a woman's class. Ha. Not. I'm a woman AND I'm DIVORCED and my ex goes to the church. Nope. Don't think I'll be sought out for any kinds of things. Not asked to be parts of Bible Study groups. I even sought a couple out. They sounded really interesting to me. One was about telling our stories. Oh my...RIGHT up my alley.
So...I guess it's time to pull on my big girl panties and find myself a church. Maybe I'll just take my time. Keep praying. I'm not a good church hopper. Totally against my introverted comfort level. But I'm sure that it will come.
It's one of the hardest things I've had to face. I've tried to push it away and deny it. I've wished and cried that someone would say how much it means for me to be there. I want to mean something. To be a giver. To have it matter that I'm present. I should go somewhere where that is true.
And I'm terrified. Alone is scary. But, I've done it before.
Also, I have realized that though I have spent many years at this church, this has been the first time in my entire life that I didn't have a friend...or more...that I could just pray with. For life events. For others. For people to come to Christ. For forgiveness. I barely have anyone that I can say that I've got issues and would like to have them pray for me even when I'm not with them, let alone sitting together to pray. And I used to just say, "can I go ahead and pray for you?" I guess I got weary of being the initiator of such things in every part of my life. Home and church. Once my grandpa was gone, I really didn't have anyone to pray with. But when I was i junior high, high school, college and graduated, I had women/girls that I prayed with. Often for children. For community. For growth. For wisdom. To confess. It was so good in my life. I was vulnerable. They were vulnerable. It wasn't really that scary. It was just....normal. But then my life went whack after marriage. I remember how surprised I was that I had to initiate praying. Or reading the Bible together. I loved my young adult life. I had different friends that we would get out our Bibles or just talk about a verse or two an how God was using it in our lives. Not during a Bible Study or anything formal...just day to day...as we sat walked and hung out. I miss it. Life got so horrific with so many other things that I forgot how desperately I longed for this for years. That is just returning as I heal.
I'm pretty sure that if nobody calls me or really talks to me in my church then....well, we probably won't be having that kind of spiritual camaraderie. Sigh. Big sigh. Cry. Whimper. Wish. Plead.
Whether I like it or not. Whether it is fair or not. He won the lottery and got "our" church. I hope he knows how rich he is.
On other fronts, I have been separating belongings in our barn. Tools and....well, you name it. Seriously, it should be on an episode of hoarders. As I began disassembling it this afternoon, I was so ashamed. Wow. So much stuff. Squirreled away. Old ceiling fans. PVC galore. nuts. bolts. screws. pounds and pounds of them. dirty boxes full of a menagerie of leftovers from various projects...all tossed together at the end. I am putting together like tools to separate as fairly as possible and sell or give the kids the rest.
This too is hard. I had to tell my kids how important some of the tools are to me because of the memory of my grandpa. How some of them I wouldn't be willing to share with their dad because they remind me of times with my beloved grandpa. They really got it. I also told them that I would do my very best to be more than fair and kind. I intend to do so. But, I intend to box it up for my ex...all that he MIGHT want....then he can go through that and decide what to keep and what to dispose of. I only have one week until the garage sale. We have already filled nearly a third of a 30 yard3 dumpster. It's huge. Everyone laughed. We just hope that it's big enough. Really.
There are lots of sticky things. But, I'm happy. I'm going to be fine. I'm way better than I was when I was married. And, I can quietly have a little pity party now and then....and then move on. Because life goes on. And I have to change and adapt. Just how it is. I have a feeling I'll be a back row sitter and a quick leaver for awhile But, in my time, I'll warm up somewhere.
blessings.
But then....there was divorce. And divorce is messy. And troublesome. And has two sides. And those sides can be divisive. And being united in one building is a bit....ok, a LOT....awkward. And sometimes it is simply painful. Beyond any feelings that I have, I have been praying about how to not divide people in the community and still be honest. How to be me and tell my story without making people feel as if they are taking sides. God has done a work in my life. His work is as great and as ongoing as the story of someone who made it through. It was hard. And scary. And IS hard and scary. But there is no freedom to tell that story. And....seriously...is..I won't be missed. It's sad but true. It's much because he is so active....and I became less so. And while I long to go and be with those that are my family and whom I love, I am realizing slowly that it's not enough. I want to actually be a part. Not an outsider going in to soak up some of the spiritual connection. Not someone that causes others to stumble because they see my not sitting with my ex. Or not talking to him. Or.....you name it. I could definitely be a stumbling block. I'm no longer a person that will be asked to lead a woman's retreat or such. And I don't think that I want to work in the children's department since I do that five days a week. I could teach a woman's class. Ha. Not. I'm a woman AND I'm DIVORCED and my ex goes to the church. Nope. Don't think I'll be sought out for any kinds of things. Not asked to be parts of Bible Study groups. I even sought a couple out. They sounded really interesting to me. One was about telling our stories. Oh my...RIGHT up my alley.
So...I guess it's time to pull on my big girl panties and find myself a church. Maybe I'll just take my time. Keep praying. I'm not a good church hopper. Totally against my introverted comfort level. But I'm sure that it will come.
It's one of the hardest things I've had to face. I've tried to push it away and deny it. I've wished and cried that someone would say how much it means for me to be there. I want to mean something. To be a giver. To have it matter that I'm present. I should go somewhere where that is true.
And I'm terrified. Alone is scary. But, I've done it before.
Also, I have realized that though I have spent many years at this church, this has been the first time in my entire life that I didn't have a friend...or more...that I could just pray with. For life events. For others. For people to come to Christ. For forgiveness. I barely have anyone that I can say that I've got issues and would like to have them pray for me even when I'm not with them, let alone sitting together to pray. And I used to just say, "can I go ahead and pray for you?" I guess I got weary of being the initiator of such things in every part of my life. Home and church. Once my grandpa was gone, I really didn't have anyone to pray with. But when I was i junior high, high school, college and graduated, I had women/girls that I prayed with. Often for children. For community. For growth. For wisdom. To confess. It was so good in my life. I was vulnerable. They were vulnerable. It wasn't really that scary. It was just....normal. But then my life went whack after marriage. I remember how surprised I was that I had to initiate praying. Or reading the Bible together. I loved my young adult life. I had different friends that we would get out our Bibles or just talk about a verse or two an how God was using it in our lives. Not during a Bible Study or anything formal...just day to day...as we sat walked and hung out. I miss it. Life got so horrific with so many other things that I forgot how desperately I longed for this for years. That is just returning as I heal.
I'm pretty sure that if nobody calls me or really talks to me in my church then....well, we probably won't be having that kind of spiritual camaraderie. Sigh. Big sigh. Cry. Whimper. Wish. Plead.
Whether I like it or not. Whether it is fair or not. He won the lottery and got "our" church. I hope he knows how rich he is.
On other fronts, I have been separating belongings in our barn. Tools and....well, you name it. Seriously, it should be on an episode of hoarders. As I began disassembling it this afternoon, I was so ashamed. Wow. So much stuff. Squirreled away. Old ceiling fans. PVC galore. nuts. bolts. screws. pounds and pounds of them. dirty boxes full of a menagerie of leftovers from various projects...all tossed together at the end. I am putting together like tools to separate as fairly as possible and sell or give the kids the rest.
This too is hard. I had to tell my kids how important some of the tools are to me because of the memory of my grandpa. How some of them I wouldn't be willing to share with their dad because they remind me of times with my beloved grandpa. They really got it. I also told them that I would do my very best to be more than fair and kind. I intend to do so. But, I intend to box it up for my ex...all that he MIGHT want....then he can go through that and decide what to keep and what to dispose of. I only have one week until the garage sale. We have already filled nearly a third of a 30 yard3 dumpster. It's huge. Everyone laughed. We just hope that it's big enough. Really.
There are lots of sticky things. But, I'm happy. I'm going to be fine. I'm way better than I was when I was married. And, I can quietly have a little pity party now and then....and then move on. Because life goes on. And I have to change and adapt. Just how it is. I have a feeling I'll be a back row sitter and a quick leaver for awhile But, in my time, I'll warm up somewhere.
blessings.
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