the thing to do

Apparently the thing to do when you're 28 and married is have kids. This isn't anything new. In fact, it started around 25. People ask me all the time when (not if) we're going to have kids, and in case you were wondering, the answer is not anytime soon.

Most of the time I'm ok with that because I recognize that God has a different plan for me right now, but the past few weeks I've been really frustrated. It feels like everyone I know is either pregnant or obsessed with trying to get pregnant. Some days I think it's the only thing anyone talks about. I've heard all about fertility treatments and morning sickness and how great it feels when your baby moves inside your stomach, and there's nothing at all wrong with talking about those things. It just gets awfully boring and sometimes a little sad since I'm not in that place.

Today it hurts. I wish we had kids, and it totally sucks to have to sit and listen to people go on and on and ON about their journeys. But that's what I have to do. Every single day.

It's one of those days I wish I was any age but this one.

one year later

Christmas Eve at Watermark is one of my favorite things. It's the primary reason I fight to have Christmas at my house every year, and I look forward to it for weeks. The service isn't all that different from plenty of others throughout the year, so I'm not sure what makes it so exciting for me. Maybe it's the hot chocolate or going in the middle of the night... whatever it is, I love it.

Last year was different. In the weeks leading up to Christmas I was really questioning my decision to stay at Watermark. After three years, I still felt invisible in the thousands of people, and I truly believed that if I never came back no one would really care. Even though I loved many things about Watermark I felt very alone, and I wasn't sure if the good was enough to balance the loneliness. But, on Christmas Eve I put the dread aside and dragged myself to the service, and that's when everything changed.

I expected a typical service, but rather than only singing happy Christmas carols and lighting candles, we celebrated stories of life change. Not all pretty stories of life change either. Hard, painful, uncomfortable pasts turned into futures filled with life and hope. Real, honest people changed by the birth and death of Christ... the reason Christmas happened. As I read the simple, silent testimonies written on plain brown cardboard I connected and remembered why I belonged, and I haven't questioned it since.

Tomorrow they're doing the same thing. I know because this year I'M one of the cardboard people. A friend on staff asked me last week if I'd be willing to share my story of grace, and although it's way outside of my comfort zone, I said yes. After all, it's silent, so all I had to do was come up with two phrases for my sign (harder than it sounds...) and turn it around on cue. Scary, but totally doable!

The more challenging part has been coming around to the idea that I'm one of "those" people... that I have a story that anyone cares to hear. Luckily I wasn't terribly attached to that belief because it's been shot down repeatedly this week. More than once someone has cried when I told her what my sign will say. I do see that God has done wonderful things in my life in the past few years, and this year especially I've changed a lot. But I didn't see ME as the type of person who God uses to bring others that kind of joy. Well, I didn't see myself as the type of person God used to bring any kind of joy but certainly not joy so powerful it produces tears.

Anyway, even though it's pretty unlike me, I'm super excited about tomorrow. I get to tell people what God has done in MY life. Thousands of people (that part's a little scary!). And someone will read my words and connect just like I did last year... because God can bring good from my bad. Great reason to ignore the fear!

the reason why

Lately I keep getting the same question: why do you go to a church where you feel so alone? Some days I have a hard time answering. Other days it's almost laughably easy. This week I've had some of both...

However, twice last week I was reminded of why I chose Watermark and why I've resisted all the suggestions to move on. Last Tuesday we spent the evening hanging out with two of the little girls from my small group at their family's Christmas party. They happen to live a few blocks away, so their parents invited me even though we'd only met in passing as they dropped off and picked up their girls. I was pretty nervous when I walked in their house and knew no one, but I shouldn't have been... we met some new neighbors (who also go to our church) and were welcomed with open arms.

But, my favorite part of this holiday was probably the Christmas Eve service. I love going to the late night service regardless, but this year it was amazing. I'll be honest: I remember very little of the beginning. It was late. I was sleepy. I'm sure it was wonderful. What I do remember wasn't how beautifully the room was decorated or how movingly Todd spoke... I remember the stories of life change that were shared. A line of at least 20 people walked one by one onto the stage holding plain cardboard posters. One side had their story before. The flip side had their story now. A song played in the background, but no one spoke a word. It was so simple and so moving.

As I sat in my chair in the middle of the almost filled auditorium, I connected. I knew many of the people on that stage and had heard their stories in full, and I knew that I could just as easily be there myself. Three years ago I didn't have a story to tell, not one that I recognized anyway. Now I struggle to find words to express my gratitude for God's grace. I'm humbled by the healing I've found... and I'm thankful for a church where people are willing to admit their struggles, no matter how shameful or dirty they may seem.

And as a side note... my girls had some encouragement tonight too. They were having a hard time grasping the idea that you could do a good thing for a selfish reason, so I gave the example of me singing just so people would compliment me or like me rather than to honor God. Then one of the girls said "Well your wish came true." I thought, ok... they still don't get it, but I asked her what she meant. Her response? "Well, now you get to sing for God and for us, and we like it." Then another one chimed in "And we LOVE you!!!"

I guess my dream did come true... I hadn't even noticed.

avoidance

I have an assignment I've been avoiding for, oh, about two months now that sounds relatively easy on the surface: journal about what I believe God is teaching me through the current events of my life.

At the moment I've given up on completing the actual assignment, and I've taken to looking at what about this assignment has driven me to avoid it for so long. I think it's pretty simple: I'm afraid to admit what I fear God may be trying to teach me. If I keep avoiding, it might not happen, right?

If I had to pick a theme for my life since August, the obvious choice would be loneliness. The significant community I'd created over the past year and a half has shrunken to only a small core... the safety net I'd come to rely on was pulled out from under me, and I still don't like it. Looking back, I was maybe a bit too reliant on the opinion and advice of others at the expense of listening to and searching for what God had to say, and over the past few months I've definitely been given the opportunity to get myself out of that habit: when I had nowhere else to turn, I became more willing to turn to the Bible for support for my feelings and beliefs.

The topic this week of the small group I lead was purity... more specifically the idea that if we desire purity we have to listen to, obey, and TRUST God... and, as always, I'm pretty sure I learned more than the girls. I'm struggling with the trust piece right now. I don't like the lesson I'm learning or the road it might be leading me down, and I want life to go my way. I want the good without the struggles, the growth without the pain. The resistance is most obvious when faced with the statement that when it comes to relationship, God alone has to be enough. I immediately pull back. I can accept that idea cognitively, but my heart still begs for something tangible. A person to hold me when I'm crying. Someone to speak words I hear with my ears. A place to physically run when life feels unbearable.

So what do I fear? I fear that learning to accept that God can comfort and love me without any help may mean this is only the beginning of my season of loneliness. I fear that THIS is the reason my community has been stripped away and my attempts to rebuild it have been met with frustration and failure.

Well, I guess I'm finished with my assignment now...

thankful

I know this is a little odd, but I'm thankful that I woke up this morning to an e-mail that brought me to tears...

I've been in a bit of a debate with a friend over my last post, so I should probably clarify. Are there people at my church who care about me? Yes. Are there people at my church who know me intimately? A couple. Are there people who would notice if I was gone? Maybe a few (because there would suddenly be a group of leaderless little girls on a mission to find their Goldfish). Do I believe there are people who know me and care about me enough that I couldn't be instantly replaced by one of the hundreds of people who will join in the next few months? Not really... other than the friend I've been discussing this with.

I went to bed last night more than a little frustrated with this discussion. The last thing I wanted was to be called out by someone I hadn't spoken to in several months, and I have to admit, I opened her e-mail this morning with a sense of dread at what was to come... then I started reading. I made it about halfway through the first paragraph before I started sobbing.

What did she say? Simply this: The most important thing for you to remember is that you can't get rid of me, A.

I can count on one hand the people in my life who will understand why those words would be so important to me, and today, more so than the actual words, I was struck by the intimacy of her remark.

She didn't write that particular sentence by chance. She knew to write it because she's been there over the past few years walking with me through even my messiest struggles, and though I often wonder why, she hasn't walked away. She knows me deeply and still loves me anyway, and her persistence reminds me that I am worth fighting for... I would not have become the woman I am today without her encouragement and willingness to speak truth into my life even when I don't want to hear it. She told the truth: I can't get rid of her... trust me, I've tried!

So, I could have written a list of the blessings in my life that I'm thankful for (my husband, our home and dog, my job and class, my friends just to name a few), but given the events of the past two days, this seemed more fitting.

Thanks, H, for continuing to point me back to Christ. Your friendship is a tremendous blessing to me and always will be, no matter what shape it takes.

my place

I desperately want a place to belong.

I've watched for most of the past three years at Watermark as the people around me each found their niche, but I always feel like I'm standing on the outside, separated by an invisible barrier. We've tried the community group thing twice now, and both times we've ended up the outsiders-- the ones left over when the rest of the group tightens. Though I can see reasons in each case that the group was not the best fit, when I think about the end result I find myself coming back to the same conclusion: I'm the flaw.

This morning, I sat there in a room of a thousand people, and all I could think was that there wasn't a single person in that room who cared if I lived or died or would have noticed if I never came back. In the past, that would have been because I chose to remain walled off and hidden inside myself. This time that isn't the case. I've done all the right things... community groups, activities, serving-- in multiple ministries, nonetheless. I've tried the best I know how, often when I would have rather pulled into my shell, and the result has been heartache.

Lately, I often wonder if there's any point in trying anymore. Maybe it's time to give up on this church and move on. There are many things I'd miss, but I wouldn't miss the pain of seeing all the people who've succeeded where I've failed. For all the self blame, I do question whether it is totally my fault. I have friends at work and in the other groups I'm involved in... why can't I make it work here?

loneliness

The first two weeks with my new class have gone by more smoothly than any before. Perhaps it's because I'm more experienced, finally confident in what I do. Maybe it's just the mix of kids or as my teammates have suggested, the luck of the draw. I prefer to think that God knew I had enough on my plate and gave me some grace. Whatever it is, I'm thankful to be enjoying teaching for once.

What I'm not enjoying is the loneliness that always seems to happen with significant change. I know there are others around me feeling it too. A little girl from my old campus hugs me every time she sees me in the hall though I barely knew her before. One of my former students, now a big first grader, called my cell phone this afternoon just to talk. I hang out with my former co-workers far more now than I ever did when we worked together, and I'm not even begging :-) I guess starting over is hard for us all.

Though it's not particularly fun, I can accept that loneliness. I chose this new start, and I know that the newness will wear off eventually. What I cannot come to terms with are the broken relationships and pain going on all around me because of the selfish and arrogant choice of one woman. Yes, I'm greatly simplifying the intricacy of relationship and giving her a lot of power, but unfortunately, it's not an exaggeration... being in a place of leadership, she held significant power in many lives. Hundreds of people are hurting, and unlike her, none of us had the luxury of choosing this path.

The past month has been almost completely consumed by navigating this conflict, and I often wake up wondering when things will finally feel settled again. I'd become spoiled with having such a large community. I knew that someone was always an e-mail or a phone call away, but now that I can count my friends on one hand, I frequently find myself alone. I'd forgotten how miserable and suffocating that can feel... it's not a feeling I've missed.

The obvious solution to my problem (as someone was so kind to point out to me this week) is to make new friends. I found that statement offensive... as though I could just go out and pick up friends like milk at the grocery store. If only it were that simple.

Tomorrow afternoon my husband and I will set out on the path to do just that: miraculously make new friends at GroupLink. To say that I'm skeptical would be a gross understatement. I've never exactly been trusting, and after the events of recent weeks, the last thing I want to do is dive headlong into relationship with people I am randomly paired with... but since I have no better idea, I'm giving it a shot.

I need people... real, live, tangible people who share my beliefs and will love and challenge me to keep going down the right path... and for the moment I'm just going to have to trust that somewhere in all of this mess God has a plan that I am unable to see.

exhaustion

The past three weeks have been a blur, and my patience and energy are all but gone.

After two weeks of serious bonding time with my cardiologist, all my tests came back normal. He's not quite sure how I can ride my bike for hours and still have the heart rate results I had, but nonetheless, I have no significant or serious heart problems. With all the drama in my life since, all the stress of tests and results and medical worries feels a million years away... how quickly things change.

I started back to work last week. The beginning of school is always insane, and this year the stress has been compounded by all the other changes going on in my life. I'm at a new school, and though I did choose this change, it's QUITE an adjustment. I miss my old teammates and my kids who came back to visit every year. I miss knowing all the little details of how the school runs and the safety of daily and year to year routines. I miss having people around me with similar philosophies, and I even miss the grind of life at a Title 1 campus... it's hard but rewarding in a way that my current job is not.

The other huge change is one I did not choose... the loss of many of my closest friends. I've stood for what I believe in, and while I'm proud of myself for not giving in to the pressure of others, I'm sad that refusing to rewrite truth has meant losing people I dearly loved. I've always heard stories of people standing up for their beliefs in the face of opposition, but it's never been me. I've always been able to have my beliefs without great cost. Though this doesn't begin to compare to what some people pay for standing up for Christ, it's not exactly a walk in the park.

As the days go on, I'm finding new routines and friendships at school. Perhaps I'll even feel at home there soon, but unfortunately, rebuilding my community will be harder. Most days I'm not sure I even want to. I feel like every time I try, I get burned...

sweeping up the dust

I've learned over the past year or so that being a grown up is just straight up messy. Yes, there are many positives, and no, I don't want to go back where I was... but I could do without the messiness.

A year ago, I finally found a home... a group of people who loved me, a safe haven where I could be myself without fear. This weekend I watched as the decision of another shattered the trust and unconditional love that typifies that community. My heart is broken.

I don't know how (or if) those relationships will weather this storm, but if the past two days are any sign, we'll be picking up the pieces for years to come... and I just wonder why it had to be this way. I know we're all imperfect and we all make mistakes, but still... it just isn't fair. I worked SO hard and took risks and did everything that was asked of me, even when I didn't want to.

And now, one year later, I'm alone... again.