“Does the church you’ll be visiting have a band you can join?” I smile. “No, but they do have a choir.” With an apologetic look in their eyes, they then say, “Oh. Well, maybe you can start one up.” I smile again.
The above seems to be a common conversation these days. I haven’t posted in a while because I’ve been trying to enjoy the final days I have left at my home church. I haven’t thought of much else. The past month has been quite the roller coaster. I’ve spent most of it in a kind of “mourning” period, preparing myself to (and actually grieving on some days) leave the church I’ve grown up in, particularly the worship band I am a part of, whose contemporary service stands in direct contrast to the type of worship service I will be going. As a result my head has been hypocritical and crazy. Excited, sad, excited, sad, excited, sad…
It feels remarkably like… breaking up. You dump the person you’re with because you know it’s the right thing to do. Perhaps you finally realize you don’t want to marry them. Or they’re not good for you. Maybe you’re not good for them. But as someone you’ve grown very close to and spent alot of good and bad times with, you can’t just shut the feelings off. They are a part of your history and your history will always be a part of you. However, now you’re finally free to ask out that cute classmate you’ve been wanting to get to know better…
Lately it’s been much of the same feelings. Excited about where I’m going, but still looking back at the things I will miss. Today I find myself in a stranger place than before. The thought “I can’t get away from this place soon enough” comes to mind. After asking myself why, I discovered that the place I’m leaving is not the same place I grew to love. It’s not the same band I’ve spent the last three years with. It’s not the same church family. It’s all headed in a new direction. A new direction that isn’t even an old direction (which is essentially what I’m doing). The new direction hasn’t really taken shape yet, but it’s already making a huge difference. This could turn out to be good or bad… but I hate change and I have misgivings. I hope I’m wrong. Either way, it won’t have a whole lot to do with me anymore. Not that it ever did… or ever should. But I don’t feel it’s appropriate to offer up my thoughts or opinions since I’m on the way out, already standing with one foot in the door, right? Besides… I don’t really belong here anymore.
Yesterday was the Orthodox feast of the Dormition of the Theotokos. In other words, it’s recognized as the day the Virgin Mary died. Last night I lay in bed and after saying a quick prayer to the Lord (I suck at praying by the way), I spoke to her and asked her to watch over us and pray for me for the next couple weeks. It might be the first words I’ve ever said to her, but it didn’t feel as strange as I was anticipating. It felt good. I felt like I was talking to my mom and I fell asleep like that… feeling as if my own mother was standing right there…
It’s going to be okay.