My Nativity

I'm not going to lie.  I am struggling mightly right now with the holidays and my absence of family.  This time of year is and should be focused on the birth of Christ.  However, when every where you look there is focus on an adored baby, I have a tendency to feel kicked in the gut.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing myself in anyway at all to Jesus.  I am saying, I was the unwanted child.  Born to parents who never have and never will want or love me.  Focused time on a baby, extended periods of time where family is the second most common focus...it all gets to me.

Unfortunately, I don't have my tried and true supports this year.  Those people who remind me that I am so much better off without my parents than with them.  Those loving souls who gently point me back to the love from the Heavenly Father being so much more than even the most loving earthly father ever could be.

I know many christians who put the death and resurrection above the birth of Christ.  Yes, the death and resurrection of Christ are the fulfillment of so many of God's promises and certainly his biggest gift to us.  However, I tend to feel just as enamored by the birth.

Until last Christmas, I had never had a nice or any real nativity set.  The senior couple I love so dearly gave me a nativity for Christmas.  It is an 18 inch set of Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus.  I've left it on display the entire year.  I know, most people put theirs away in January and drag them back out near Christmas.  Not me!

It was absolutely one of the best gifts I have ever gotten from anyone.  Without the birth, the death and resurrection could have never happened.  I know that's simple, but it is.  For me, the nativity is a constant reminder of Jesus' entire life and what his death means for me.

I have often not placed much value in the life of a baby.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not devaluing any children.  I have just often struggled with my warped idea of parents and the place of a child and importance.

Keeping the nativity in front of me all year, constantly reminds me that my earthly view is warped and was deeply damaged by evil.  Just because my parents didn't want me, doesn't mean that nobody did.  God did.  As hard as that is to keep in my heart this time of year, it is true.

The nativity is a reminder for me that Christ was born, so that through Him I can know a Heavenly Father.  So that I can experience what I never believed possible.  So that I can know a love beyond what even a good father could have given.  So that I can eventually be without the pain of not having loving parents brings.

I know all these things to be true.  But my broken little heart has a hard time holding onto them through the pain of the season.  There isn't a day that goes by this month that I don't long for a family and wish away the pain.  During this season of feeling so unwanted, the truth is no match for my tears.

So for now, I'll cry my tears, soothe my broken heart and anxiously wait for the day when the love outweighs it all.

I Tried...

Maybe I am learning a lesson lately in how the plans I have aren't always the way things will be.  I would love to say that these are great lessons.  But the truth is that they are painful and hard.

Last year, my holiday sadness led to a few months of being a hermit and severe depression.  I had a plan this year to avoid it.  I was proactive.  I did everything right so that I could take a huge step in putting the holiday sadness behind me.

Nothing and I mean nothing has worked out.  All the plans have simply gone down the toilet one by one.

Back in May, we made a plan to spend Thanksgiving with my brother and his family.  We had a condo chosen and paid for months in advance and a plan.  For the first time in over six years, I was going to get to spend a major holiday with some of my family.  With tickets to shows and parks already purchased and only a few weeks to go, my brother's family backed out.

I had a fine and lovely holiday spending some much needed time with my husband.  However, I was crushed.  I spent plenty of time that weekend tucking myself away when the emotions hit and the tears couldn't be held back.

Even onto the Christmas holiday, I purposely filled my month with one activity after another.  Again, not even to avoid but to survive in a healthier way.

The first week, I was scheduled to have lunch with a friend and a craft night with my favorite crafty gals.  Both got cancelled.

Later that same week, I got a nice case of flu that put me to bed for several days.  I had scheduled a bunco friends Christmas party at my house.  The next night was our Christmas party with our new Sunday School class.  I literally slept through all of it.

I'd like to take a moment to point out what a wonderful husband I have.  He spent all last week stuck in Ohio.  I mean really stuck.  He had to stay an additional day because of bad weather.  The poor guy finally made it home Saturday evening.  He took care of me, cleaned up the house and a massive mountain of laundry.  Awesome!

That Sunday, we had a full day of plans.  Lunch with a friend and then a trip to see Handel's Messiah followed by a Christmas pagent.  Well, we managed to not be able to sell our tickets to the Messiah.  So we drug our drippy noses and handfuls of cough drops to the symphony.  Yay!  At least one thing on the long list of plans happened.

This weekend, some of us were supposed to have a girl's weekend.  Good ole Mother Nature foiled our plans by giving us a full day of freezing rain and snow.

One disappointment after another and I can no longer hold off the holiday sadness.  It's coming....it's here.  I tried, I really did.  Even I can accept that I at least put forth an effort.

When I put up my Christmas decorations the first week of November, I was ever the optomistic.  I knew this year I'd be able to find a joy in life that had been missing for so long.

I know many of my Christian friends who would argue that celebrating the birth of our Savior is enough to infuse joy into even the most broken heart.  Unfortunately, those same friends haven't been in my shoes.

We will have one and only one very short Christmas celebration with my husband's family.  I know, I should it enjoy it but I don't.  It will be uncomfortable for both of us.  His mom no longer knows who he is and his sibling group is deconstructing with strong personalities.  It has great potential to be more painful for my husband than any holiday past.

Don't even get me started on the gift part of Christmas.  It's one of my love languages, both giving and receiving.  Our big, beautiful tree won't have much under it for us or others.  I'm sad to not have a long list of people to give gifts to and won't even be doing my usual week of baking goodies this year.

A couple months ago, I never thought it would be possible to slide into the holiday sadness two weeks before Christmas.  But that is what happens when I make plans.

I have been so good lately in accepting that when things don't work out the way I want them to, then God must have a better plan.  Ha!  I have even been THAT person with other people lately.  You know...the annoying one that reminds you that there must be a better, bigger plan and that we just need to be excited about it.

Maybe I'll get there again, but not right now.  Every effort I have made to live healthier through this time of year has been for not.  I'm frustrated and disappointed and mad.....but mostly just sad.

A New Place

I have been dragging my feet to write this post.  Not that it isn't good, it is.  However, my husband received a phone call today that kicked me in the tail and made me realize it was time to make note of our continued journey.

We have both been sick.  I had a nasty cold for about two weeks, which I kindly shared with my husband.  At the tail end of the cold, I was hit with the flu.  After being down for almost three weeks, I am finally among the living again.  During that time, Kent has also been traveling and was snowbound an extra day across the country.

Needless to say, we have missed everything.  Holiday parties, plans and church.  When I say we've missed church, I mean we have deeply missed church.  

Even though we walked into another church with hearts completely against staying, the good Lord had other plans for us.  

We came in late and tried to sneak out early.  People still greeted us and made us feel welcome.  As we sat and listened to the preaching, we found ourselves refreshed and absolutely focused on the message.  The message was the 2nd commandment.  After it was over, the pastor made a point to speak to my husband.  

The second week we attended this church was the same.  Then the next and the next.  

One of the things we both have long struggled with at our previous church was how we didn't fit socially.  It took so long to make more than one or two relationships for each of us.  We also struggled with how easy it was to be gone for long periods of time and not be missed.  Maybe that was a product of so few relationships or it being a larger church.  

We both know our biggest draw to a church is and should always be based on it being a place where we can worship God with other like-minded people.  The social part of it is important but definitely comes after worship and spritiual growth.

It didn't take long to find ourselves drawn to the worship and preaching at this church and we found ourselves wanting to know more.  We wanted to know if the "feel" of the church was consistent throughout bible studies and activities.  

I tried two women's bible studies.  Absolutely consistent.  In fact, I have stayed in one faithfully for nearly three months.  I love my bible study buddies.  It is more than a bunch of women studying the bible.  

Seriously, I have never found another large group of women who were so willing to be so real.  The group is 12-18 women and they are so honest and vulnerable and loving.  When they don't agree, they say so but stay open enough to allow their hearts to change.  They are vulnerable with their personal lives, sharing joy and pain with each other.  When someone shares their heart or their pain, they genuinely feel along side each other.  I can't even do this group justice with words.  I love these women and have found an organic connection within them.

We checked out their Sunday and Wednesday studies.  Again, we both were floored by the openness and honesty.  I had never seen a pastor pray over the entire church's prayer requests nor open the floor for church-wide discussion on his preaching.  

Through people we had met, we were invited to a Sunday School class.  Again, great content and fellowship for us.  Through email or class, we always receive so much information.

Speaking of that....

I don't remember the last time I took notes on a sermon or class or anything.  It had been months since I had done any bible study.  My bible had dust on it.  Why?  Becuase I was discouraged spiritually.  Most everything I had heard was over my head or spoken in a way that was difficult for me to assimilate on my own.  

The past three months I happily head to church and bible study with bible and journal in hand.  I have pages and pages of notes.  The Word of God has never come alive for me the way it has the past few months.  I understand it.  It is spoken and presented in a way that I understand.  When I say happily, I mean it.

I am beginning to think that it is easy to know where God is leading you when you look at the situation that is so good and say, "We didn't mean for it to happen, it just did."

That brings me back to the phone call.  I have missed church for about 4 Sundays and my husband 2 Sundays.  A gentleman we've talked to a couple times called my husband today.  First of all, he had to go to the trouble to hunt down the phone number as we haven't shared that openly.  Most importantly, we were missed.  WE WERE MISSED!  

Someone cared enough about us to call and check on us.  (Again, not pointing a finger at our previous church...)  This has never happened to us before coming to this church.  This is so consistent throughout this entire congregation.  I miss a bible study or church and I have emails from multiple women making sure I am ok, asking if I need anything.  

I shared some of our holiday trials within my bible study group.  On Thanksgiving, I had several ladies email me to say they were praying for me or thinking of me.  Not only that, but we were invited to several homes for the holiday.  

And now, one of the men is checking in on my husband.  Thank you, Lord.  

This congregation has welcomed us, reached out to us and truly made us a part of them.  And, all of this while we have made it clear that we are looking for a church home and having made no committment to them whatsoever.  

It warms my heart to be in a place where we enjoy worship, see spiritual growth within ourselves and seem to fit socially so well.  I am so thankful that God's plan is so much better than my own.  I'm thankful for these people who so easily show the love Christ has put in their hearts.  

Choosing Grief Over Familiar

This is one of the posts that have been on my heart and in my mind for so long, but I dreaded the messyness of laying it all out.  As much as we all want it to be, life isn't always a bowl full of cherries and sunshine.  Sometimes it flat out sucks.  Sometimes you find yourself in a position where you must make a choice that you know is going to hurt. 

That is certainly where my husband and I found ourselves this past September.  Without going into all the details, I'll just say we found ourselves struggling with decisions being made in our church.  At that time, we decided to visit another local church.

Our plan was to take a few weeks to reboot.  We needed a time away, a time to refresh our minds and search our hearts.  That first Sunday, we walked in with an attitude that this was temporary.  Our plan was to put our hearts in a position to once again appreciate our church. 

There is just no other way to say it.  When you spend three years volunteering in a church office, you see a completely different side of church than what you find on Sunday mornings.  There was no way for me to remove all that I had seen or experienced, but I wanted desparately to have that Sunday morning perspective of the church body. 

Since I did not grow up in church, I certainly was not prepared for what happened during those first few weeks of visiting another church.  It was ugly!!!  The rumor mill ran rampant.  Things were said that shouldn't have been said.  Confrontations happened that were completly uncalled for.  Assumptions were made.  And through all of the ugliness and hurt, nobody was asking.  Nobody asked why we had stepped away from the church. 

Let me just say....that was a dagger to my heart.  These people I had served and served with for over six years seemingly either didn't miss us or were content to accept rumor instead of come to us.  I'm not pointing a finger, honestly I am not.  I say all of that to remind myself of the magnitude of pain this has caused.  The church I was baptized in and the family who once accepted us as part of them hasn't asked once said they missed us or bothered to ask where we've been or why.  Put yourself in my shoes for just a minute.  Wouldn't you be hurt too?  Three months have passed and not one person has asked...

But, this isn't a post about pointing fingers and isn't even about comparing churches...I promise.  It is fully about grief.

I didn't think there would ever be anything comparable to choosing to leave my immediate family.  If you aren't familiar with my story, I had to chose between God and my family.  In my family, you can't have both.  Of course, I chose God. 

Making a choice to leave the church I was baptized in was almost as painful and in some respects, even more so.  It was by no means easy.  I fought it for weeks.  I went back and forth.  I spent days and days stomping my feet and saying no way.  Even while God was very clearly showing us that it was time, I fought it.

With the exception of one or two, every relationship I have in my life was developed in the church.  Relationships meant very little to me before I was in church.  Now, they mean everything to me.  In fact, if I consider someone a friend now, it means I care about them very deeply.  If I call you a friend, it means I genuinely care about your well-being and think of you often.  It means that you are more to me than a hello/goodbye once a week.  It means that I'm not afraid for you to see my weaknesses nor am I scared to see yours. 

I have gone through weeks and weeks of not wanting to lose that.  The past year has been a good year of developing relationships.  It's been a year of living life with people and being vulnerable with people.  I certainly could not stand the thought of losing ground or even starting over.

Several months ago, a friend told me that leaving a church is like a divorce.  I suppose I have seen glimpses of that.  I think the more accurate way to describe it is leaving high school or college.  On graduation day, you always make these grand plans to stay in touch and get together throughout the year.  Then, life happens and you lose touch.  That is how I am feeling. 

Don't get me wrong, I have some solid relationships that these changes won't affect.  However, it's already started to happen with the majority and my heart aches over it.  Of course it does.  Three months of not seeing the people I thought I'd see raising children or I'd grow old with.  Of course it hurts. 

I also don't want you to think the grieving process is over.  The wound is going to be open for some time to come.  The holidays.  The events.  The dinners.  The sweet times of fellowship.  One by one, those things are going to come and go and I will feel alone and apart from the family I spent the past six years with for those things.  There is still plenty of tears to be shed over this.  There's still going to be awkward conversations.  There is still growing pains to come and times of not understanding and difference.

God is clearly leading us in this decision.  He has clearly closed a door for us, slammed it shut in our faces.  Despite our denial, understanding, frustration, pain...He has a bigger plan for us.  I am doing my best to always keep in mind that His plan is always better than mine.  His plan is beautiful and wonderful.  It is my desire to hang onto my plan that brings the pain and tears.

It is a difficult decision to choose grief over familiar, pain over comfort.  But in the words of a very intellegent, godly woman...the right and good thing isn't always the easiest thing.