Sunday night, November 24, 2019, I returned to church for our church-wide Thanksgiving dinner. I sang that night before we received the Lord’s Supper. It was a song the pastor chose to go along with the night’s theme. “Come to the Table” by Sidewalk Prophets was the name of the song. I liked the song, and I enjoyed being able to sing it.
I was nervous about committing to singing that night for a couple of reasons. One, I didn’t know what my emotional state would be after reading my resignation letter. Secondly, I was having a colonoscopy the next morning, so I had been on a liquid fast the entire day. But it ended up going just fine. It was healing for me. I also enjoyed being able to talk and mingle with the people of the church without feeling like I was hiding something from them.
My friend mentioned to me that she had never seen me more at peace than when I was singing that night, and that’s how I felt. I felt very peaceful and was so glad it was all behind me.
Oh, how I wish it had all been behind me. I’m glad that I had no idea how wrong I was at that moment.
I spent the first few weeks of December finishing all the last-minute things I needed to do and leaving everything in order for whoever would come after me.
I look back today on my pictures from December 2019. There was one thing after another.
We had a Christmas Parade, a Pre-School Musical, A Happy Birthday Jesus Party, and a Staff Christmas Party. On top of that, we had a small family Christmas vacation and all the regular things that December brings.
December 16, 2019, was my last day in the office.
I’m not going to lie; I expected some things. I expected that it would be mentioned in the staff meeting. I expected they would take me to lunch that day because we had done that when the secretary retired. Even more recently, we had taken the summer interns to lunch on their last day.
I was sorely disappointed.
There was zero mention of it being my last day in the office; there was no lunch, nothing…
I called my husband after the staff meeting, and he asked me where they were taking me for lunch, and I told him there had been no mention of it whatsoever. I was pretty devastated. That’s probably a ridiculous thing for me to feel and for sure to admit, but I was. I expected something and was hurt that there was nothing at all. I cried on the phone with my husband.
I worked through lunch that day. I was just ready to get out of there. While there alone, the florist delivered a flower arrangement from the staff to me, thanking me for my service to the church. There was a beautiful bow on the flower arrangement with piano keys and music notes. The pastor told me later that he chose that bow as a symbol for my next job in the church. The pianist was about to retire, and he thought that would be the perfect “next job” for me. I had no desire to become the church pianist. It was just another job that was stressful and busy. Now singing? Yes, I wanted to sing more, but that would never happen.
I find it interesting that the pastor was still controlling me. He was choosing my next “job.” He didn’t ask me what I wanted to do. He just assumed that I would do what he wanted me to.
I was at the office by myself at the end of that last day. I took the final file to the pastor’s office and laid it with the rest. I had successfully completed what ended up being almost a novel’s worth of pages describing in detail every event and ministry I had overseen. I left things in order and ready for the next person. When I laid that last file down, it felt strange. It was almost symbolic, like laying down what God had asked me to. I felt it deeply.
I called my husband on the way home to tell him about the flowers, and he was happy to hear that the pastor did something to recognize the day.
I sent the pastor a picture of the flowers that night. I told him thank you for commemorating the day with such a beautiful arrangement. The text I sent him said… Thank you very much for my flowers and card. I got a little emotional before I left. I really appreciate everything.
He sent me a thumbs-up emoji. That was his only response.
Was he so disconnected that he didn’t realize how hard this was for me? Was he so self-absorbed that he could only see his own needs?
Yes, and yes. I didn’t realize it then, but now it’s easy to see just how much everything was about him.
It would be about 3 months later that I would learn that my husband contacted the pastor that morning of my last day and told him that I was really struggling. He told him I was in a rough spot and could use a pastor. He told him that I was really having a hard time leaving, that it would be good if he could maybe not be a boss that day, but just a pastor. The pastor sent my husband a text back that said something like I got this.
My husband knew how much better I felt about things after I got the flowers that day and he didn’t want to ruin that for me. He didn’t tell me until later that he had contacted the pastor that day, because he wanted it to seem like a genuine gesture from the pastor. It wasn’t until we began to realize how dishonest the pastor had been about other things and put pieces of the puzzle together a few months after we left that he told me.
I can only speculate whether the pastor planned the flowers before or after my husband contacted him. I know that he and the music minister left together for lunch that day and went by the florist on their way to lunch… after staff meeting… after my husband sent the text. The lack of any mention of things in the staff meeting that morning makes me think that he completely forgot or didn’t care.
This day was something we had been talking about for over 6 weeks. He knew! Gosh, he knew.
He knew the pain, he knew the struggles I was having, he knew how hard this decision had been for me, he knew how much I loved this job and this church… He knew, and he did nothing.
And even when I thought the man finally did something right, I found out later that my husband told him I was struggling that day and needed something to make the day special. And it was after this text that the flowers were delivered.
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I genuinely thought that the lack of mention of that being my last day meant that the staff would surprise me. I thought we were going to a restaurant and it had all been planned.
I really did. I even dressed up a little that day. I mean, this day meant something to me. It was the end of an era for me. It was my last staff meeting, my last day in the office… But, in the end, the only person it meant something to was me.
My last day in service at Tree Town Baptist was December 29, 2019. I once again naively thought there would be some mention, at least something in the prayer. The pastor and his family had been at my house to celebrate Christmas just the day before. His kids spent the night at my house the night before. We discussed the emotion surrounding that last day of church for me as a staff member… again, he knew.
We got in the car after church, and my daughter said, mom, they didn’t say a word; no one said anything about this being your last day. Of course, I had noticed, but I wasn’t planning to mention it to anyone.
My daughter was so angry, and I was sad.
I felt used all over again. I was no longer useful to anyone in the church, I had served my purpose, and that was over and done. So I went home and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.
I know this probably sounds childish and petty to some. I hate that I even felt that way. I think I’ve mentioned it before, but my counselor once told me that I feel things deeper than almost anyone he had ever met. I’m not sure if this is a gift or a curse. I had strong emotions about taking the job, I had strong emotions about doing the job, and I had extra strong emotions about leaving the job. It wasn’t something I had done easily or taken lightly.
It wasn’t that I wanted a big to-do made of me. I just expected normal things. The things that had been done for those who left ahead of me.
The interns were the latest ones that I had to compare things to at that time. We had taken them to lunch on their last day, and on the last day they attended service, we presented them with a gift and recognized them that Sunday morning.
And so, I foolishly believed that my leaving would, at the very least, be mentioned.
That Sunday was the last time I would sit in a service at Tree Town Baptist.
I would have laughed in your face if you had told me that day that it would be my last. Remember, I was coming back. I declared that loud and clear when I read my resignation letter.
I cleaned my office out on Monday, December 30, 2019. The office was closed. My husband and I went to see a movie that day. Ironically we used a gift card that the pastor and his wife had given us for Christmas that year.
We stoppedd by the church late that night on our way home to get my things. My husband expected that I would be emotional. I wasn’t.
There was an urgency within me. I couldn’t get my stuff out quick enough. I wanted to be out of there. I never expected to feel that way. My husband was even more surprised than I was. He was expecting tears, and there were none.
I’m not sure if I can adequately describe the feeling, but it was as if there was something evil, something dark… I had never felt that way in the church before. I felt like someone was looking over my shoulder, but only me and my husband were in the building. The hair on my neck stood up, and I felt almost afraid. I was ready to be done.
I packed everything that belonged to me. I had staff notes from my time there, my Personnel Manual, pictures, cards, decorations, rugs, pillows, and memorabilia. I threw it all in boxes and we put it in the car. I didn’t go through papers first, I just put them all in. I wasn’t selective at all. If I had been, I probably would have thrown away the majority of the things I brought home. I didn’t need the staff notes, manuals, or calendars. They just got taken home because I was in a hurry and wanted to get out quickly.
I had no idea at the time how much those things would help me when it came to writing this blog because I had no idea I would be writing a blog. After all, I had no idea I would ever leave the church… but all of that documentation has helped me with the facts and details I’ve needed. Who knew…
There’s a picture on my phone of my empty office. I’m not sure why I took a picture. I guess I wanted the memory. That office had seen so many things… I had practically lived there for 3 years, and that was over and done.
If you zoom in on the picture, you will see my leadership book “Simple Church” lying on my desk, right there on the top of the divider file, right under that CD. I left it there. I was feeling a little bitter at that moment. I remembered how the music minister left his “Creating Magic” book on the bookshelf when he packed up his stuff. I remembered how much I appreciated the sarcasm in that gesture, and I, on purpose, did the same thing.
There was nothing simple about the way we had done things. There was nothing simple about my feelings surrounding things… it was my way of saying if this is “Simple Church”, you can have it.
As I read back over this post to finish the edits, I realize that it sounds very much like a poor me, I was so disappointed, I deserved better, kind of post. I see it, I recognize it and I own it.
I can only say this. Maybe my feelings weren’t the most “mature”. Maybe what hurt me shouldn’t have hurt me. Maybe the lack of recognition shouldn’t have bothered me at all… but I have to be true to myself and acknowledge that it all hurt.
I felt it all deeply. I felt used and unappreciated.
Maybe those reading this would have felt differently, I can’t answer that.
Maybe those reading this feel like I should’ve felt differently and handled things better. I get it.
This blog is to help people who might have experienced something similar in churches as what I experienced. It’s to help people recognize that it’s ok to acknowledge that something hurt them, regardless of what other people think. It’s ok to own your feelings, to acknowledge pain… even when it’s hard and even when no one understands. You can’t deny what you feel.
So, this is me… putting all of it out there for the world to read.
This is me, being vulnerable… something I don’t do easily…
This is me, owning the fact that maybe I should’ve been stronger but realizing that I was emotionally spent and needed more from the church that I thought loved me.
Until Next Time,
Whitney
