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.