Four years ago, my world crumbled. Every dream I had was shattered, and
everything familiar became tainted. I
was devastated, blindsided, shocked, and angry.
I began a journey I never wanted to take. These steps felt like miles of walking with
no end in sight. I was forced to make
choices that no one should have to make, and I made feeble attempts at
explaining to a 3-year-old child why her world was shaken and couldn’t be
fixed.
I began to search, desperately, for a home. I needed a place to go where I didn’t feel
judged or outcast, a place to start over.
I decided to turn to the place where I’d attended the concert so many
months prior; the place where I’d sought counseling alone, because I didn’t
know what else to do.
This church had a Wednesday night Bible study for single
parents. Oh gosh! That’s what I was now, doomed by the choice
of someone else. I felt as though Satan
and every one of his demons laughed at what a mockery I’d become – pastor’s
kid, granddaughter, niece, born and raised on church staff; virgin who saved
herself, even her first kiss for marriage; woman whose ultimate dream was to
stay home, raising her children and supporting her husband. THIS was the life I knew and wanted, and for
a time, had. Suddenly, life had no
meaning. It was in tumultuous uproar,
day in and day out. I could not think
about all the things that had to be done and decisions that had to be
made. But I knew one thing – I needed to
go to church, or at least try.
Although for months, I existed only in a physical body as if
I were detached from myself, I went. I
attended the services, Bible studies, activities. And even when I fought to be cut off from the
world and life and people because the pain was TOO DARN MUCH, they surrounded
me: relentless in their pursuit driven by love, determined to reach out even
when I pushed them away.
This was it – the kind of camaraderie I had heard and read
about and seen in Christian-based movies – but had never truly experienced
before now. This was a place where I
experienced Grace embodied in physical beings, a powerful supernatural
experience. This group and congregation
welcomed me and my daughter with open arms, divorce and all. They picked up our wounded bodies, carrying
us from battlefield to battlefield, amidst grueling bloodshed and deafening
screams.
And then, one day, we began to walk on our own. I was able to stand, to take my daughter by
the hand, to make another difficult decision and literal journey to a new
“home.”
The past four years have been more horribly devastating and
hellish than I could’ve imagined; a reality as disgusting as any producer could
concoct. These years have also been some
of the most fulfilling, rewarding days of my life, as I have become a better
Christian, woman, and mom than I ever would’ve been without them.
This is to thank those at CRBC who loved and supported
Mikaela and me through the last few years and to remind them that we will never
be the same.
“Time passes like a moment.
Moments fleet away.
Scars left by time creep up as a shadow,
As dark as ever they were.
Hope shimmers in the distance,
But closer than before.” - LS
