Skip to main content

When the Left, Finally Leaves

 "You said that he left when you were around 18 months, tell me more about that."

I didn't even notice my own word choice until they hung there in the air.

He left.

He left you. 

Rapid fire, memories of being left flooded my brain. 

My dad. Boyfriends in high school. My dad some more. And if his coming and going wasn't bad enough. He died. He left me forever. 

Being rejected, yet clinging on so tightly, runs really really deep in my soul. I don't give up. I don't leave. I keep fighting. I keep apologizing. I keep forgiving. 

Until I didn't. 

Until at 34, I finally left. 

But why do I still feel so abandoned? 

There are griefs we understand.  We post our condolences on facebook.

Death. Divorce. 

It is a public and understood grief. 

But leaving a church? 

Full disclosure, This is a draft that started 12/6/22.  I stopped midway, because it got too painful and too overwhelming.  Now in 2024, I think I am ready to talk about it. 

It was a Tuesday evening. 

My squad was already there on my back patio. Snacks and drink in hand.  It was that night that I learned that Ashton made the most incredible bruschetta with gouda cheese.....(insert Italian hands emoji)  We had this girl's night already planned and decided not to cancel in-spite of scheduling a difficult conversation with our pastor and close friend. 

I sat through that evening feeling like my insides were being ripped out of me. It is a foggy memory now, but I am pretty sure I ugly cried. Like. Ugly cried. 

We hadn't officially decided to leave the church yet, but Megan had already left...again (wink face). But this time, it felt different.  It wasn't just her.  There was an elder.  His family. Another launch team family. I didn't know the reasons why, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been suppressing for year---Maybe, just maybe.... it's not in my head. Maybe I am not crazy. There is more to this than I know.

That night. After a long conversation with Ian . We decided (As a team. As an equal partnership) that it was time to leave. 

I was absolutely heart broken. It felt like a death. In a lot of ways, it was. 

To be continued....




Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fruit & Root Connection: Tangled Up

Certainly, I've expressed my aversion to hyper-spiritualized language before. It often feels contrived, lacking authenticity—a facade of piety. Perhaps it's projection. Maybe jealousy. Or it could stem from a sense of disillusionment with the Christian community. But every so often, amidst the noise, a truth resonates deeply. "There is a root and fruit connection between heart and behavior. People and situations do not determine our behavior; these things provide an occasion where our behavior reveals our hearts." - Instruments in the Redeemer's Hands I've been navigating through my anger, confronting myself in the mirror. What does this anger unveil about my own heart? Surely, they aren't as enraged with me. In fact, they probably don't spare me a second thought. If anything, they—as sincerely as they can muster—bemoan my status as an apostate. So pitiful. My fruit is anger. And too often, I'm tempted to point fingers elsewhere as the source of my...
Post a Comment
You Know You Want to Know More....>>

Should I Stay or Should I Go

At the time, deciding to leave felt like the most agonizing part of the whole ordeal. In hindsight, a few years of prayer journals were filled with distressing agony over desiring direction and reconciliation.  So much turmoil and emotional pain all the time. But we were constantly told that was to be expected. Hard was good. Hard truths. And iron sharpening iron. But in reality, We were all enduring death by a thousand paper-cuts. In reality, it was spiritual abuse.  In July of 2022, I sat in a lawn chair in California. It felt like a million miles from home.  We had been traveling the US, and hadn’t been home in weeks. I sat there, eating my bowl of chili.  As wonderful as the trip has been, I started to miss home. In my reflections. I counted my blessings. Home was good. Except one thing, I had a sense of dread when I thought about church. My chest would go tight. And my body felt shaky. I craved Jesus. I craved worship. I craved devotion. Being in God’s creation,...
Post a Comment
You Know You Want to Know More....>>

If Your Happy and You Know it Clap Your Hands....

Alright y'all, I need to post an actual blog post.  It's been awhile.I guess I have said " writers block".  Everytime I've sat down to blog, I've gotten this nasty attitude, like I just want to rant and complain.  I'm not a fan of giving a bad mood more than it deserves or letting people get on my nerves enough that it bleeds in my blog in the most passive-aggressive way possible.  So I won't go there this time.  Focusing on what I'm thankful for has been such a great practice, and has helped me avoid the above.  So here goes nothing.....I'll update a little bit on everthing I suppose.... Finally, life is beginning to slow down.I am so appreciative of the fact that the moving/settling in process is over ( only to do it all again in T minus 5 months....) In theory, there should be a big hole where our next house will be soon. For some reason I doubt that they will break ground this week, but I would be happy if they did...I'm stressed and ...
Post a Comment
You Know You Want to Know More....>>