I drove through Tree Town today. It’s such a strange feeling. It might be different if we had moved away, but we didn’t. We still live 27 minutes away.
When I was a kid, I took piano lessons in Tree Town. Although the Walmart there was small, we sometimes stopped there on our way home from doctor’s appointments in the nearby city. There was also a children’s clothing store there that my mom liked to go to and shop for me. There was another clothing store we liked there. My parents bought all their furniture at a store in Tree Town. Because Tree Town was the county seat, we occasionally visited the courthouse.
We were familiar with the town but not intertwined. I knew people there. I had a few friends there, but it was just a place we visited.
The big brick church just down from the depot was always a mystery. It had a presence, and I wondered what it looked like inside.
At that time, we attended the small country church, and later, we would attend the church where I met Jeremy.
I’ve mentioned before that we were Missionary Baptist. We were uber-conservative. The Southern Baptist people were considered liberal. Tree Town Baptist was Southern Baptist. There was no chance that my parents would have visited this church way back in the day.
My piano recitals were held in the Methodist Church in Tree Town, but the big Baptist church remained a mystery.
Until that day when we decided to visit in 2008, and the rest is history.
After that day, things changed. Slowly but surely, our lives became intertwined with Tree Town Baptist and the town’s people. Almost everything we did involved the church or the town.
Today, we have very few ties to the town in general and zero ties to the church.
We will always use the pharmacy there because my dear friend is there, and frankly, it’s the best pharmacy I’ve ever known.
We will also use the Farm Bureau insurance agency there, although we no longer use the agent who is a deacon at Tree Town. Our lender is in Tree Town, but again, our lender doesn’t attend Tree Town Baptist.
My best friend lives in Tree Town, and I still have several other friends there. But it just feels different when I drive through now.
For a certain amount of time, I would really struggle to drive through Tree Town. I would bypass it at all costs. It brought about a certain amount of PTSD.
I’m not sure why I even felt compelled to write this. Maybe it’s because life changes so much. What was once comfortable now brings anxiety. Where there was once love and support, there’s now disdain and anger.
I don’t pretend to believe that many of the people in Tree Town would pee on me if I were on fire. I knew when I started this blog that if they ever found it, they would be angry. I knew with the first words I wrote that it wouldn’t be well received, and I understand the consequences. I hoped that people would see the truth and take action, but I was sorely wrong. Instead, they made me the enemy. And that’s ok, because Tree Town Baptist wasn’t my intended audience anyway.
When they found it, I might have hoped for restoration in the beginning, but I soon realized that these people were in too deep. This town has hidden things before, they’ve stood up and protected the wrong people. They’ve hidden actions of people in the town and church at the expense of innocent people. Transparency isn’t their thing. I knew those things when I started. They don’t like to be called out. It’s not a new thing for churches. They protect the institution first. It’s common.
Still, I knew there would be bridges burned if I spoke up. I counted the cost, and I paid the price. I am at peace with those decisions. I wouldn’t go back if I could. Some things in life are better left in the past. For now, I’m happy with most of Tree Town in my rear-view mirror. Maybe someday there can be restoration.
When I start a post, I often start with whatever idea is on my mind and just let it go where it will.
And this is going to sound cliché. And maybe it’s because I’m on a road trip while writing this. But my mind goes to the idea of driving through life.
I mean, it’s not a new idea. Rascal Flatts even made the idea into a popular song. And I have no doubt that as you read this, you are singing, “Life is a highway; I wanna ride it all night long.” Some of you may even imagine Lightning McQueen riding in the back of his hauler.
Even though that idea isn’t new or original, I can’t help but apply it to my own life and the things I’ve “driven through.”
You know, Jeremy and I used to drive on trips and wonder as we went which exit had a bathroom, which one had a restaurant, etc. You remember, back in the good old days, when we used maps, like the paper kind. There needed to be a way to know which exit had what. We had the most brilliant idea. We wanted to make a book for travelers that gave detailed information about each exit, down to which ones had clean bathrooms in the gas stations. We dreamed of driving across the country and documenting the details of each exit.
But now we live in a whole new world. Even the road departments upped their games. We now have exit signs that show us gas, hotel, and restaurant choices one mile before the exit. But it gets even better. I can scroll in on my Google map, and it will show me everything on every exit and everything in between. I can decide hundreds of miles before I stop which exit I want to take. Is there a Love’s gas station? Is it new? Is there a Buccees? Is it on the right side of the freeway? Is it easy to get back to the onramp?
My kids don’t want to stop unless there’s a Chick-fil-A, and I don’t want to stop unless there’s a Starbucks. So, we plan in advance where we will stop on our road trips.
In some ways, it’s magnificent. You won’t take the wrong exit or be disappointed with what the exit offers. You won’t try a new local restaurant (unless you read the reviews on Trip Advisor or Yelp first). You won’t wonder if the hotel you will stay in has a pool.
I distinctly remember how a hotel lobby would smell when they had an indoor pool. It was like music to my nose. I would get so excited when I would walk into a hotel with my dad on family trips to reserve a room. We would walk up to the front desk to see if they had anything available and how much the room would cost. If I could smell a pool, I would beg to stay there.
Now, we just book our hotels through the Hilton app. Not only do we know if the hotel has a pool, but we know its location and even choose which room we want to stay in.
Has it taken away some of the mystery of life? Has it made us less carefree? I think it has.
But what if we knew what was at each exit on the highway of life? What if we knew what would be there before we took that proverbial exit?
I think I would keep driving.
Is that too honest? Am I being too transparent, or do you feel that way too?
If I were to have the ability to know what was coming, I don’t know that I would have the courage to put my blinker on and commit to the exit. Not by myself.
I think back over my highway life…
Born a farmer’s daughter, raised on a rice farm, three-wheelers, acres, and acres to run and play. It was the perfect exit. A country church, people I loved… but parts of that exit would change over time. Things were added, things taken away. The Google map was updated. The farm remained a wonderful place to grow up, but we didn’t visit some of the exit locations anymore. That country church became something we passed every day, and every time we saw it, the pain shot through our hearts.
The entire exit wasn’t ruined, but the landscape changed. In fact, the original exit sign might have said: carefree childhood, loving people, small country church, small school, great friends, wonderful community.
But after everything that happened, it would say: friends aren’t true, they will turn their backs on you, school will close, you will be judged, you will lose a large part of yourself here, and things will never be the same.
When we left the country church, we traveled farther down the road and took another church exit. And as that became familiar, and we stopped there to get married, have children, and make new friends, we learned to pass the old exit without pain and memories. We even reached a point where we could occasionally stop at the old country church exit and visit those old friends again.
But eventually, that new exit began to change, and we had to find another new exit.
While we’re here, let’s name that exit. Before now, I referred to it as a church in a nearby town. But since I’ve used the name Tree Town for the last church, why don’t I refer to the church where I met Jeremy as Melody Baptist? This will be helpful, as I plan to write more about my time there soon.
Initially, the Melody Baptist exit would have this description: Cute boy, great friends, fun times, good people, perfect place to raise a family.
But by the time we left, it would have said: toxic environment, feelings of being trapped, dictator pastor, heavily influenced and intertwined with Independent Funadamental Baptist movement, the worst place to raise children, keep out…
So, when we left Melody Baptist, we headed down the road, and this time, our extended family took one exit while we took another.
Our next exit would be Tree Town. And once again, what was once new became familiar. We raised our kids at Tree Town Baptist, made friends, and took that exit every single week.
It was our favorite exit. Our car even knew.
Initially, that exit sign might have read: large church, great children’s programming, serving opportunities for the entire family, forward-thinking, great place to make friends.
But again, things changed. And although that exit is still familiar, it is no longer a place I want to stop.
Now, for me, that exit sign would say: warning, keep out, closed-minded, cult-like toxic church, Stepford’s twin city, will destroy you, will use you up, will turn back on you, hidden predators, will do anything to protect their own.
But you see, even though those exit signs would be different when we left, I can’t remove the good that happened in between. It is easy only to remember the bad, but the truth is, there was a lot of good, too.
But, I’m just being honest when I say that if I had known about all the hurt and pain at the different exits… if my Google Maps said that there was pain and heartbreak at those exits, I might have kept driving.
But here’s where things change a little… I don’t get to decide which turns I make and which exits I take.
Why, you ask? Because 37 years ago, I told Jesus I would follow Him. And so, when He takes an exit, I follow Him. When He stops for a while, I do too. When He heads down a muddy and nasty road, I follow Him there, too. When the road is gravel with potholes, well, I follow Him down that one, too. When there’s construction and only one lane open, I follow Him there, too. I trust Him. I’ve learned over the years that on those nasty roads, the muddy ones, the ones with the potholes, the ones I would never turn down on my own… all those exits I would keep driving by… the ones that didn’t have the Chick-fil-a or the Star Bucks… the ones that just didn’t look appealing… I would’ve driven right on by. But when I was eight years old, I promised I wouldn’t follow Google Maps but would follow Jesus.
There have been many things in life that I would’ve skipped if given the choice. There’s been a lot of pain and heartache that I didn’t enjoy.
But gosh, it’s those times when I learned so many things. It was on those backroads that I learned to trust; it’s where lifelong friendships were made, and lessons were learned.
Ultimately, even the hard places hold good memories, and the pain eventually subsides. I see that Jesus always had my best interests in mind. He was always protecting me and teaching me.
And so, because He has never failed me, I will continue to follow Him, even when I don’t want to take the exit.
Until Next Time,
Whitney