It didn’t take long after that last text message to the pastor for things to change. Where things had been quiet the months before, the communication from Tree Town after that text became almost non-existent.
After this friend announced to the deacons that my husband had requested to be removed from the active list, things happened quickly.
Jeremy received a few calls from other deacons, expressing their sadness about our leaving; Not nearly as many calls as one might think.
After being active members at Tree Town Baptist for over 12 years, I must say I expected more people to at least wonder where we were.
Covid was in full swing at that time, so the service times were sporadic. I consoled myself by saying that with things the way they were, people wouldn’t know if we were there or not.
I reached out to a few people and tried to fix things before they were completely broken. Some of the ones I reached out to responded very positively. A few even came to our house for lunch or dinner. So, for a while, we thought we would hold onto many of our friends there even after what had transpired with the pastor.
It was false hope.
And you know what… I understand that in a lot of ways. It’s easy to listen to my story and tell me you support me and believe me… but the only way you can go back to that church and actively serve there is to either totally ignore what I’ve said or maybe realize that it’s a toxic place but feel the need to stay to see the church through the changes that need to occur.
Either choice is uncomfortable.
I don’t live in Tree Town. I don’t have to mingle with those people on a regular basis. I have no family ties to that town. So, I get it. I really do. I was the collateral damage, and that’s easier than uprooting your entire family. I wish it was different, but I do have a level of understanding.
I still sometimes wonder how people sit in service after service, knowing what they know about that pastor. I believe you need a certain level of trust in your pastor; I don’t understand how people have that.
They can no longer claim that ignorance is bliss…
As strange as it may sound, the first place I noticed that things were going to be different between me and the people in Tree Town was on Facebook.
Anyone with Facebook knows that a specific group of people will always “like” or comment on your posts. I began to notice that people who always “liked” my posts before were now not showing up in my notifications. So I decided to test my theory one day. A “memory” came across my Facebook feed that meant a lot to me. I can’t remember if it was a baptism or a snapshot from a camp we attended or something else, but it was from a special time at Tree Town. The post wasn’t about me at all… it was something special that had happened during my time as children’s minister…and not one person from the church liked it… not one. And it was THEIR church… I guess they thought I didn’t own those memories anymore, or maybe they only celebrate things with people who are still a part of the club. Whatever the reason, I was shocked. Obviously, they were angry with me, but how could you not even click the like button for something like that… I tested it several times and realized that my suspicions were confirmed. I was being ostracized… even on Facebook.
Is there a name for this? Is Facebook punishment a real thing? Were they afraid the pastor would see that they liked something of mine and would be in the same boat as me?
I want to be careful not to lump everyone in Tree Town together.
We did not lose every single friend. In fact, as I’ve said before, I think what happened is that the cream rose to the top. We were given the unusual luxury of finding out who our real friends were.
There’s one family in particular that stands out.
My husband needed someone to talk to when all of this went down. So he came home one day and said, I need to call __. I said I think that’s a great idea.
Three hours later, after a long, detailed conversation, Jeremy knew we had made the right choice in leaving Tree Town Baptist and also who he called to talk to. This friend was so gracious, he listened and gave excellent advice, and my husband felt heard.
Did you know that many times that’s all someone needs? They don’t need a sermon or scripture, they don’t need to be told how right or wrong they are… they just need to be heard.
When someone feels heard, that’s when the real healing begins.
For us, this entire family was and still is part of our healing. They are genuine.
When I told this friend about how things had gone down in the end with the pastor and the apology and the accusations of me punishing people and holding a grudge, this person looked at me and said, “did they ever ask you how it made you feel, or how much these things hurt you?”
I just started to cry… no, no one ever asked that… they were only ever concerned for the pastor and the church.
I love this family so very much. I treasure their friendship.
There aren’t enough back porch sitting days or sushi date nights… but when we get them, we make them count. And although it might have been months since we’ve seen one another or spoken, it’s immediately like we were never apart.
I have another dear friend who checks on me almost daily. He’s one of a kind. He absolutely loves sweet potatoes and sharing different sweet potato recipes and other creative ways to use them! He comes to have lunch with our family, and we always have a good time and lots of laughs. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like for my family if we had lost this man and his wife as our friends.
There are more.
I’ve mentioned some of these people in previous posts. So, to say we lost every friend would be disingenuous. We didn’t lose every single friend, but we lost some that I thought we would never lose.
In my next post, I will tell the story of one of those losses. It’s too much to add to this one. It needs an entire blog post of its own… maybe two.
My daughter went to Tree Town Baptist one more time on August 19, 2020. That night they didn’t meet at the church. Instead, they had a Snow Cone Social. This event would be outside, so I felt safe allowing her to attend.
She was nervous when I dropped her off. I gave her a simple text code to send me if she began to feel uncomfortable. I told her if she needed me to pick her up I would be there as quickly as I could.
She didn’t need me, and she ended up enjoying herself. If they had continued practicing safe covid measures, she could have gone to more things, but they didn’t. Each activity they had after that one was inside, with no masks.
This was long before vaccines were available.
I even heard rumors that the youth pastor had kids remove their masks on Wednesday nights. He supposedly said they didn’t need them there. And this behavior immediately drove a wedge between the school and the church. The kids had to wear masks at school but not at church.
I’m jumping ahead a little in the story, but eventually, my daughter would find a new youth group to attend. We chose it based on its proximity to where we live and also how they handled Covid protocols. This church was not in Tree Town, but their school was also wearing masks. To show solidarity with the school and the teachers, staff members, and board members who attended the church, they required the students to wear masks during youth outings, church services, activities, bus rides, etc. That way, the church supported the school, and the school supported the church.
During such a scary time as Covid, to me, that small thing spoke volumes. And the kids didn’t mind wearing their masks because their youth pastor wore his mask too, and he didn’t complain about it. It was genuinely leading by example… servant leadership…
Anyway back to the story…
On August 19, 2020, my daughter attended this youth event at Tree Town for the Snow Cone Social, and although she was nervous, she ended up having a very good time. This gave us hope. Maybe she could return to youth activities at Tree Town.
But that would end up being her last time there.
While my daughter spent time at the youth event, I met 3 of my friends at the local Mexican restaurant for dinner. It was the first time we had seen each other in person in a very long time. We communicated through a group text daily, but Covid had slowed down our visits. And we were no longer attending Tree Town Baptist, so we didn’t see them on Sundays.
Covid had made its way through the church a few times by this point, and the topic of discussion that night was centered around how the church had handled Covid. These friends were upset by how preference had been shown toward other members who had tested positive for Covid. The “elite members” had not been called out the same as these people had.
I had some inside information during this time and knew how unfairly things had been handled. I said too much. I should’ve remained quiet. Because they asked me how it was that I wasn’t even attending there, and I knew more than they did.
I essentially put a target on my own back by doing that.
These friends had always teased me about being the pastor’s favorite, the “church staff pet.” They said I was a brown noser… all the things kids say in school when you are the teacher’s pet.
It didn’t matter to them that I worked for this man, that it was part of my job to spend time with him and make sure he was happy with my job performance. They just continually called me a brown noser.
At the time, I thought they were only kidding. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me.
Now I can’t help but think they were slightly jealous of my friendship with the pastor and wanted that for themselves. They wanted to be “in the know,” “in the circle”… they wanted to be best buds with the pastor…
And I hope they got their wish… they deserve that.
I didn’t know that night would be the last time things were “normal” between my friends and me. I didn’t know that the hope of my daughter returning to youth would never happen or that this would be the last time she was with her friends in this setting.
I didn’t know…
Until Next Time,
Whitney