I need to step outside of my linear outline to lament.
Some days hurt worse than others. Some events hurt worse than others.
As you read through these next few paragraphs, I know many will probably think that I brought this upon myself. I’ve actually had someone say that to my face. I’ve been told that I’m punishing my entire family by not being willing to forgive.
I’ve struggled with that for a very long time now.
It’s not that I can’t forgive, it’s not that I haven’t forgiven, it’s not even that I haven’t moved on. But I read somewhere that it’s ok to be sad about something you thought you healed from, and today I’m hurting.
My daughter graduated from high school last week. My son graduated from high school in 2019. This graduation looked significantly different than his graduation did.
Some people are absent from our lives that were very much a part of our lives in 2019.
I see people post things on social media. I see the Senior Nights and the Senior Sundays. I see people who were my dear friends in these photos, people whom I thought I would do life with forever. I see kids experiencing things that my daughter would have been a part of. And it hurts.
Plain and simple, it hurts.
I feel guilt. I feel like I should’ve held on just a little longer.
I feel like I should have just gritted my teeth to make it through, so she could have the same experiences as her brother.
And initially, that was our plan. We knew we needed to leave the church, but we couldn’t stand the idea of taking our daughter out during the most exciting years of her life. So we planned just to be casual members until she graduated and then quietly slip out.
The best-laid plans… if they aren’t God’s plans, they probably won’t work out.
My husband reminded me tonight that leaving might’ve caused some pain, but not as much as staying.
That’s not always easy for me to see.
I feel like I paid the Country Club dues for my son and then pulled out of the club before my daughter could reap the benefits.
I know for a fact that God wanted us to leave. I know He wanted us to go just when we did and not a moment later. I know we are where we are supposed to be.
Things I didn’t know… I didn’t know leaving a church meant leaving your friends. I didn’t realize that leaving a church meant that all the people you shared life with would just disappear.
I tell my husband that I never intended to lose my friends, and he always reminds me that I didn’t lose friends; I just found out who my real friends really were.
I’m angry about many things, but what I’m probably the most furious about is just how disposable we were. I’m amazed at the people who never called to ask why we left or those who just never contacted us at all. It’s mind-boggling.
News Flash… when a family that has been an integral part of the church for 12 years suddenly disappears… you might want to find out why,
I was told that many people that left during Covid were actively pursued when the church opened again, but we were intentionally NOT pursued.
Read that again… we were intentionally NOT pursued. Why? My best guess? We were a liability. If we came back, people might find out the truth about what really happened.
I will tell how I found out that we weren’t pursued in a later blog post, but it came from someone on staff; it wasn’t hearsay.
Better off? Yes.
In God’s will? Yes.
Found a new church? Yes.
Love the new church? Yes.
Glad we left Tree Town Baptist? Yes.
But it still hurts… it just does. I know that the things my daughter has learned from this will be beneficial to her in her life. Still, I can’t help but wonder if when she’s 44 years old, she will be behind her computer writing about how the church has hurt her more in her life than any other single thing. I hurt for her. I hurt because she hurts. I hurt for what she’s missing, even though I know she’s better off missing it.
I am human. I’m not perfect; I have made many mistakes. I would probably go back and do things very differently if given a chance.
But…
The church shouldn’t cause wounds this deep, pastors shouldn’t cause wounds this deep… and until people are willing to have the conversations, do the hard work, and get their head out of the sand, history will keep repeating itself. The church machine will grind away, leaving wounded people in its wake.
Until Next Time,
Whitney