Italy - Day One

In October of last year, I was blessed with the opportunity to go to Italy on a trip promoted by the bank I work for. It was a 10 day trip, and while I knew I would miss Chad and Ava terribly, this really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I planned and worried and read and studied and did just about every thing I could think of for months leading up to it. While this was a vacation, i was still a representative of the bank and needed to at least appear as if i knew something about this. :)

The day to leave came, and I met the group at the bank to take a bus to the airport. I was beyond nervous about the flight. I have Meniere's Disease which causes among other things, motion sickness. Not just your run of the mill motion sickness. Motion sickness to flying, riding, boats, watching action movies or video games, and even sometimes driving. Needless to say, i had my motion sickness patch on before I ever left my house. :)

We flew from Nashville to Chicago to Rome. The flight was hard. It was an overnight flight, but I only got 3 hours of light sleep out of the 9 hours we were in the air. Anywho...

Here was my first view of Rome (nice, no?)

We went to our hotel (Hotel Diana Roma) by bus. We met our tour guide Paul, and we then headed up to our room. I learned quite a few things about italian hotels in that first hour. Firstly, while this was a very nice hotel, it was not spacious. It would have felt like a little room for just myself, but I had a roommate (Rita) so it felt even smaller. I also learned that italian hotel room bathrooms are gorgeous, but the showers don't have shower curtains. They don't even have shower doors. They have these glass panels that stop half way. Very odd. And the floors and tubs are ceramic with no handles. Coming from America, I immediately thought this was a lawsuit waiting to happen. I almost bit the dust 4 times in our stay. I can't imagine how hard it would be for older travelers.

The afternoon was ours to discover and explore. Rita and I ventured down to a little restaurant where I had the best lasagna I've ever put in my mouth. Each cooked and served in their own little cast iron pan. Completely different from the precisely layered version here at home. You'll also notice I was enjoying a coke with it. This was the last one i had on the trip. A tiny can of coke (8 oz, maybe?) was around $6 USD. Water, it is. :)

After lunch, we went wandering around Rome. While the city was busy and animated, it was still very laid back. Lots of people were going places, but no one seemed rushed. We happened upon this beautiful entryway.

This was the Basilica di Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri (The Basilica of Saint Mary of the Angels and Martyrs). We went inside to find an exhibit devoted to Galileo. It was gorgeous.

That night, we had a welcome dinner at a local restaurant with all of our group. The group from Tennessee was about 27 or so. And with the other add-ons from different areas, it ended up being about 36 or so. We were definitely a big group! The dinner was good. I told myself at the beginning of the trip that though i was a VERY picky eater, i would try whatever was served. This night, i tried fried peppers (i do not eat peppers), i tried pickled veggies, and i tried something that was either breaded squash blossoms or calamari. Either way, not a fan. Then we headed out back to the room to rest up for a packed day 2 (including the Colosseum). :)

Church....

Let me preface this blog with an apology to myself. I am a horrible blogger. I write blogs in my head daily and just as consistently push them aside. But I am also going to preface this blog with self forgiveness. I know I am a procrastinator by design, and I am ok with that. And if this turns into a quarterly blog then at least I will be able to point out 4 distinct times this year that I did not, in fact, procrastinate. :)

Now... this big topic. Church. Where to start to adequately describe my emotions.. The beginning, you say? Sounds great, let's roll.

I love my church. I grew up in a Methodist church with an older congregation. And that was just the way it was. I didn't hate going. But i didn't have a fire for it either. Along comes Chad, and suddenly he invites me to try a Baptist church. That was 2003. I managed to resist him until 2009. Then his sister invited us casually to come to church with her on Easter. And this time, something (or Someone) just told me to go.

And I was in love. In love with it all. The church family, the pastor, the messages. Can you even remember the first time you really heard the Word? That was mine. It lit a fire in me that I cannot describe, and for every Christian out there, I don't have to. I wanted to drink it all in. And I wanted to share it with anyone who would listen.

I joined this church with Chad. We dedicated our lives to raising Ava in this church. God was working in our lives. I found God at exactly the point in my life where I needed to find him. It was perfect....

Then my granddaddy died. The world didn't stop because the world stops for no one. But there was this stillness in my soul. This emptiness. But I am not one who deals with pain and loss. I am an ignorer. If I ignore it, it doesn't exist. If i don't allow myself to feel this pain in its entirety, the pain does not exist. There are some people who see a sad part of a familiar old movie and watch it just the same as the first time, with tears streaming. Then there are people who see the sad part coming and change the channel to avoid it. I am a channel changer, per say.

So that's what I did. I changed the channel. I was strong and resilient. I pretended that I was not sad that he was gone, but happy at how he lived. I pretended I was not angry at the way he was taken from our lives, but thankful that his pain was over. But you know the one place you can't pretend??

Church.

I have not been to church more than twice since he passed. Not because I feel angry at God, because I certainly don't. Not because I feel that I have lost my connection with God, because I know I haven't. I have not been to church because it is the one place that I feel as though my heart is wide open for everyone to see. More importantly, it is the one place that my heart is wide open for me to see... The voice of the choir, the words in the Message, the hugs from church members are overwhelming.

So, that's my not-so-internal battle. I want to be back. I need to be back. But does walking into that church mean facing my feelings and my loss and my heartache head on? Yep. It does. I just have to find the courage to do it. I pray, and I pray, and I pray "Lord, where can I find the strength?" And he keeps saying....

Church, Sasha. Church.