Confesion: Home may not be what I thought it was

Have you ever encountered someone with the ability to point out things you already knew in such away that you both wanted to weep and thank them at the same time? The people that can sift through the information you’ve presented them and see to the heart of the matter in short order?

On Thursday I had coffee with the Small Group Resource person at my church. We met to discuss the situation my small group has found its self in, but wound up talking just as much about my church past as we did my church present. At one point she looked at me and with one of those sad smiles said, “No wonder you are in so much pain. You’ve spent all your life feeling alone in the mist of a crowded church and now you are back there. That’s been home for you but it’s a terrible home and yet your history has taught you to be most at home alone.”

There were a fair amount of tears after she said that and though she said many more things I can’t remember any of them. It’s all true, and what’s more I assume that alone will always be home. As much as I love all of you I count on you not getting it at least half the time. I count on figuring it out (whatever “it” is at the moment) with very little help. And maybe if I had just been able to have a day of aloneness on Friday I wouldn’t be writing this or still pondering it over today.

But I didn’t. I had a busy day which ended in seeing a visiting show. I grew up with the songs from the show. I can remember dancing around my living room to the CD and when I moved to Seattle one of it’s songs was sung nearly daily in my mind. It’s a show about being alone in the mist of a crowd, about not fitting in and longing to find home. I bought these tickets months ago. I was going with a friend but plans changed as they often do and I wound up sitting with 3 people I like but barely know. 3 people who by the time we got to the show it seemed we had already exhausted our common ground and I was feeling just a like I didn’t belong.

So when the curtain came up and the characters started exploring this theme something in me wanted to sob but still hasn’t found a way. I long to not be alone and yet I don’t trust the hope of community. I have no idea what will happen with my small group. I just sit here waiting for the unknown. Waiting to leave home to truly find it.

Confession: I don’t know what to do here

A week ago today wounds that had begun to heal were ripped open and I am left feeling betrayed and raw. There hasn’t been a day since then that I haven’t cried. A group in my church that should have understood me didn’t, not even close. And though they eventually acted like they got it multiple things lead me to believe they haven’t.

But then interwoven in there is the first fires of seminary passion again. The day before all of this ugliness went down I met with my pastor who suggested seminaries that would help me get to where I want to be. One instantly sparked an interest. And there is life and hope (and a bit of terror) every time I think of it.

So here I stand so utterly betrayed and hurt on one hand that I don’t know what to do; and on the other so hopeful and full of life I feel like I’m soaring. But being in both the depths of darkness and on the hill top watching the sun come up all at once is excruciating. How do I live in this moment with out collapsing?