Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

Leaving One Before Having the Foresight to Find Another

As a child, I had grown up in the church - a small one, which makes sense since we lived in a small town. I was involved; I loved it. It wasn't one of those things my parents forced me to do. Reflecting now, I can remember being perplexed by those who didn't believe or attend church. Perhaps it was my age or immaturity, but I didn't have the skills yet to verbalize why church was so important to me. At the time, I enjoyed it and it made me feel wonderful. . . and the Bible said to gather together to praise God. That was more than enough for me.

The thing is I hadn't prepared myself for church in the next phase of my life. Shortly after high school graduation, I moved away from the small town where I had spent my life. When we reach this milestone, we think of things like losing touch with friends, missing family, having different responsibilities, etc., but I had never given any thought that I would be leaving the only church I had ever known as well. Either I was clueless or in denial . . . take your pick.

I tried to find a church in college. There were a couple of them I actually went to more than once, but they just didn't have the same feel as my church. It wasn't just being an outsider looking in, it might be that lack of people my age or I didn't know the hymns. Eventually, I convinced myself it was better at this point to worship alone. Truth be told, even then I knew it wasn't better, just easier. I was comfortable around myself; I wasn't comfortable being an outsider wondering if I would fit in.

Eventually, I had a family and moved to a town closer to where I grew up. It was important to me that my son grew up learning and knowing the love of God. We attended my grandmother's church. But that's what it always was . . . my grandmother's church. Sure, it made her happy we were there, and being in her presence in God's house brought joy to me, but I never immersed myself in the church as I had in my youth. I'm not sure what happened, but we attended less often until we weren't going at all. Though I have shared and talked with my son about God and my beliefs, and we have prayed and read Biblical books, I know I have failed my son by not encouraging him to grow up in the church or by the very least leading by example.

I moved to the town I teach in about a year and a half ago. It is small, similar to the town I was raised in. I know many people since I've taught here ten years. I believed in my heart that I would find my church again. I prayed to God to lead me. I made a deal with Him. Why do we do that? God probably isn't the biggest fan of Let's Make a Deal. Nevertheless, I told God I would go to church as soon as someone asked me.

No one did.

So, I prayed at home. Less often than I knew I should. My heart and soul knew I was sticking my head in the sand. I'm really not sure why, but I was. I knew the story of Jesus dying for our sins, yet, something in me didn't feel worthy of asking for help or guidance. To protect myself - or so I thought - I built walls around me. I don't think I did it consciously, maybe I'm so bull-headed I did. But they kept me from feeling - hurt, despair, loneliness, guilt. Somewhere along the line though, I realized they also kept me from feeling love, empathy, forgiveness, true joy, faith.

When coincidences happen, people are quick to say that life is strange. Maybe it is, but I believe sometimes 'coincidences' occur because we are too stubborn or blind to notice the obvious. Maybe we wouldn't notice the importance if it were an every day occurrence. I don't know. . . but I know my 'life is strange' moment had God's hand in it waiting for me to reach out and grab it.

Earlier this year, I went through a few months of poor health. This took its toll on my life in every aspect. I am one who prides themselves on a strong work ethic; I missed more days of work than I have combined in my life. My emotions were all over the place. I didn't feel as though I was able to pay attention to my son the way I wanted and needed to. Nothing seemed right. One particular night, I was in so much pain, and the doctors hadn't been able to find the cause. I felt like I couldn't go on. Had it not been for my son and parents, I would have asked to just die. I had nothing left - pain, despair, and frustration were not companions I wanted to suffer with. That night, I signed in to Facebook - good ole Facebook - and typed simply "prayers, please". I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the fact that I found myself unable to pray, and I still recognized the power of prayer. This might not seem like a big deal unless you know me. I am horrible at asking for help, letting people in on what is going on in my life, and publicizing anything except a funny/sarcastic remark at times. To show you the extent of this post, my sister left her job as a hospice nurse the moment she saw it and drove over an hour to see me. My mom arrived shortly after she did. Again, I felt pain that I had worried them and disturbed their schedules.

I received a Facebook comment from a friend I had gone to kindergarten through high school graduation. I hadn't talked to him since the night we received our diplomas. We were both in such a hurry to conquer the world and reach the goals that we thought would bring us happiness and perhaps a little glory . . . and contentment, maybe?

Two words on Facebook - prayers, please - have changed my life in the last six months in ways I never even allowed myself to dream could happen to me or even should happen to me.

....to be continued on next blog. . . too much to share at once.

Sorry if you were expecting laughs, but sometimes honesty sneaks out of me too!

Thanks for sticking with me,
Audra