Transitions

Our lives are full of transitions.  Some are small and some are big.  You may transition to a new house, a new city, a new marriage, a new baby.  Those are big ones.  And there are small transitions; summer to fall, school starting, the slow transition as you watch your toddler learn to walk and talk and become a little kid, and not a baby.  

My family (my kids and me) are currently in a church transition.  I consider this one of the "big ones".  But I need to give some history.  It isn't as simple as, "we're now attending a different church."

I grew up in the same church, from birth, until my early 20s.  It was my home.  It was small.  Everyone knew everyone.  I remember potlucks in the basement, New Year's parties that the whole church would attend, and sit around, playing games, while us kids would go upstairs and crawl under the pews in the dark, trying to hide from each other.  Our youth group was never more than 8-12 teenagers.  I considered them my family.  

My dad was almost always in a leadership position, though not a pastor (not in my time, anyway, he was a pastor in his younger years).  And our church was not without its struggles.  Christians are sinful, and hopefully, most of the time, they work out their differences, but sometimes they do not, and we can hurt each other deeply.  My parents/my dad was a peacemaker.  He was always trying to help people find ways to work out issues.  Sometimes it worked.  Sometimes it didn't.  When it didn't, people would leave.  People would leave, disgruntled and angry, and take all that anger and bitterness to a new church.  To me, it's a little bit like leaving a marriage and moving onto a new one before allowing yourself to heal.  That new marriage is going to fail shortly, if that baggage is not dealt with.  My parents, however, stuck around.  They were committed and loyal, and loved that church.  They loved the people.  They wanted what God wanted for that church.

When I was 22, I had just moved back home from living in Calgary, where I worked with a new church plant.  I was beginning university, and for some reason, my old home church didn't feel like the right place for me.  A good friend of mine was attending another church in the city.  It was big; two services, with 600+ people in each.  I wasn't used to a big church, but it had a big and vibrant young adult group, and I wanted to be part of it.  It was a good fit.  I loved it.  I found a great group of friends, I joined the worship team, and felt at home.  I stayed at this church as long as I was here in Lethbridge.  I was married in this church.  They supported us in prayer and financially when we chose to lead a team on a mission trip through the U.S. midwest.  We joined a home group, a small group of people who we got to know more intimately, who we could pray with and grow and learn with.  This group was one of the first  we told when I was pregnant with our first child.  Ethan was born on a Sunday morning, and after calling our families, we called our pastor and our son's birth was announced that morning.  Ethan was dedicated to the Lord in this church. 

It also wasn't without its issues in the time we spent there.  Pastors came and went.  I don't know details, but I know some people left, and I don't know entirely why, but I know some were disgruntled, as happened in my childhood church.  I didn't understand it, even then.  If you have a problem, work it out!  I had it very ingrained in me that you do not leave a church just because you're mad.  You can't just go out and float around and leave every time something upsets you.  Again, comparing it to marriage fits nicely here.  

We left that church because we left the city.  Anytime we went back to visit, we were welcomed and treated as family, home for a visit.  I always felt a "belonging".  We went on to a wonderful church family in Levin, New Zealand.  Then, after a more difficult search, we found a home church in Victoria, and again, in Wanganui.  I have wonderful friends who I am still in touch with from all of these church families.  

In April of 2010, I moved back to Canada, but this time, by myself, with the kids.  I was in a pretty fragile place, emotionally, obviously.  It had been over 6 years since I had attended my church here.  A lot of people had come and gone.  The pastor was new.  There were still many people I knew, but I wasn't as close with them as I had once been.  I thought maybe I should try somewhere new.  Maybe being in a different place in my personal life, I needed a new start.  But I couldn't.  Because of my emotional fragility, I couldn't. I was still married.  But he wasn't around.  I was highly conscious of the fact that everywhere I went, I was alone with 3 very young children.  I felt like everyone would be thinking and wondering "why?"  Why is she alone?   Did she choose to be a single parent?   I admit, I had some very unkind stereotypes of some single mothers in my head.  And now I was one.  I didn't want people to attribute those stereotypes to me.  I think now, most people don't.  But I'm sure some do.  Now, though, I just don't care so much what people think.  

But then, I did.  I did care.  And so, the only choice that left me with any hope or comfort in my heart, was my old church.  Many people there still knew me.  Some knew exactly why I was now a single parent.  They knew my history.  They knew my history with my ex-husband.  And I desperately needed people to know I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS!!!    I needed compassion and love and care.  And I felt I could only find that in people who already knew me.  It wasn't something that was going to easily form with strangers, however compassionate they might be.  

And I did find comfort.  I renewed some old friendships and began to make new ones.  The pastor and his wife were quick to welcome me and come to my home (I think I only had two chairs in my living room at that time!) and ask if there was anything the church could do for my little family.  I told them I didn't know if this church was the right place for me anymore, but told them my reasons for coming.  And he said something I won't forget.  He said, for as long as God leads me to be there, to plug in where I can, to make it home, and let God give me direction.  It was encouraging.  It encouraged me to re-invest myself in this church that had been my home from 1996-2004.  

I soon realized something.  For the first time in the years my oldest son had attended church, there were no boys his age.  He had no buddies.  He didn't seem bothered, but I had a niggling in my gut.  I didn't really know what to do about it, so we continued to go.  At one point, we had an associate pastor who was willing to take my boys under his wing and be a cool male mentor for them.  Both my boys took to him quickly and easily.  This was amazing for my oldest, who does NOT take to adults easily and quickly.  And then, he was gone.  I don't know what happened.  I don't even care.  But I was hurt, and I was angry.  And Ethan was hurt.  And man, this kid did NOT need another male he liked and cared about to walk out of his life.  It magnified the fact that Ethan was a loner in this church.  There were little boys Silas' age.  There were little girls Rory's age.  Ethan hung out with the girls his age and he seemed fine, but it lacked something.  For awhile, he had a male teacher in Sunday School.  But he didn't commit, either, and what could have been another great role model, fizzled.  I was frustrated!

I started praying.  I started praying for God's direction as far as church goes, probably around the beginning of 2011.  I just wasn't sure this was the right "fit" for us.  But God didn't show me any other options.  I felt, deep in my spirit, he wanted us to stay put.  I didn't know why he wanted us there, but I refused to move until God told me to.  I was not going to listen to a "feeling" or anything until I knew, without question, that God was leading me in a new direction.  I had done that my whole life, moved without waiting for clear direction.  That part of my life was over and dead.  I only want God as my guide.  

So, we stayed.  In the summer of 2011, we joined a small home group, and I discovered friendships that have become so meaningful and cherished.  I agreed to take over the writing of our children's ministry newsletter.  I felt at home.  I felt, once again, that I was in a place of "family" and belonging.  My younger two kids were thriving and loving their classes.  But there it was still; the niggling in my gut about my oldest.  I prayed and prayed.  I went to other churches' websites, trying to glean information that would magically give me the answer to what my son needed.  And God told me to stay.  And I obeyed.  It didn't feel good.  I wasn't unhappy with anyone, or anything, but it didn't feel good that my son was missing something.  I could have just left, but then I would have become exactly like the people in my childhood and youth, who simply picked up and left at the first or second signs of discomfort.  

We stayed.  My friendships grew.  They grew beyond our every other Sunday night Bible study.  My kids became good friends with the kids in my friends' families.  We got together for meals and visiting.  It went beyond church, as it should.  But still no boys.  I worried for my oldest, as I thought ahead, to middle school and high school, when he would join youth groups.  I know he will need good buddies.  I know he will need good guy friends in church.  A boy does.  A boy needs that.  

I thought of my childhood church and how it was all girls.  And one boy.  He was the only boy in Sunday school all those years.  I didn't really think twice about it because I was a kid, but it must have been tough for him.  In grade 8, a family moved to our church, and they had 5 boys.  5 boys!!  We were thrilled!  I know I had crushes on at least two of them through the years.  All of us girls did!  But I think back now, and I think how wonderful that family's move into our church was for that one boy.  He was 14 and finally, finally, he had guy friends.  He had buddies.  And they were good buddies.  He needed that.  He needed them.  

My boy needs buddies.  

Last fall, I missed a lot of church.  I don't know if it was extra busy-ness, or tiredness, or what.  I missed almost all of November because of my foot surgery.  Also, in the fall, I became a leader at Divorce Care, which is run at another church.  I had attended Divorce Care for a couple years, as I healed, and as that healing became more pronounced, I felt a leading from God to become a leader.  This was crazy, but totally God, because there's nothing in me that actually wants to be a leader in settings like that, so that's how I knew it was Him and not me.  

And slowly, very slowly, God started opening me up to the idea of going to that church, where Divorce Care is held.  It had never really occurred to me.  It's a large church, with 3 different services on a Sunday.  I find it hard enough to get to know people in a small setting, let alone in a huge one, where a person can be just a body in the pew indefinitely.  But, He would tell me little things.  He would tell me that I already know people there.  I did.  I do.  Several of the other Divorce Care leaders attend there.  Ironically, many people who attended my church between 1996 and 2004, attend there.  He told me that, because I'm already involved in one of their church ministries, it would seem a more natural transition.  

I did nothing with this for a couple months.  I let it sit.  I pondered.  I waited for a door to close on the idea.  But none did.  I made a decision to go one Sunday morning.  I talked about it with the kids.  It came as a surprise to them, and I didn't want them to think there was anything wrong with our home church.  I told my oldest I thought it would be a good idea to find a church were there are more boys his age.  He was rather non-committal about it, but he was willing to try.  The kids had been to this church with me in the past.  Sometimes they would come on Divorce Care nights, if I didn't have a babysitter.  D.C. has free childcare.  We had also been to a city-wide worship service there.  They knew they were going to a building, at least, that they were familiar with.  At this point, that was important to me.  Because of all the changes my kids have had in their short lives, I'm not especially eager to foist new ones on them.  

The morning we would "try" this new church arrived.  I woke up sick to my stomach, with anxiety.  I felt like I was cheating.  I felt like I was being sneaky or something.  It was the worst feeling.  I had never, in my life, tried a new church, without moving to a new city, or without being in a new phase of life.  

The service was good.  I wasn't blown away.  I didn't expect to be.  My sons and daughter enjoyed their classes, but none of us received lightning bolts from Heaven or anything.  I know that's not generally how God works.  I, in fact, felt awkward most of the morning.  I walked out of the doors of the sanctuary and ran into a member of my home church.  You could say "busted!", but it wasn't like that.  She is someone who was a very close friend in my earlier years there.  We aren't as close now, but she is truly one of the kindest, most God-loving, gentlest people I've ever known.  She saw me and gave me a huge hug.  I briefly summed up the reason the kids and I were there that morning and she, for lack of a better term, basically blessed me in whatever direction I end up deciding to go.  

I left with such a peace in my spirit.  Why was she there?  A simple reason.  Her daughter and son-in-law go to that church and occasionally, she goes with them.  But that Sunday?  She was there for me.  God put her there for me, I have no doubt.  She obviously wasn't there "for me", but God knew I would need some sort of confirmation and assurance that I was NOT cheating, and I was NOT doing anything wrong by being there, and by searching for the best way to help my kids find what God wants for them.  

We have been there for about a month now.  I know it's where God wants us right now.  My son doesn't magically have a bunch of new friends.  It's a big church, with a lot of kids, and it's going to take him some time.  I'm also getting used to, perhaps, different ways and styles of their corporate expression of faith.  It has the same basis of faith as my other church, but is expressed differently.  It is more charismatic than I'm used to, but I'm not uncomfortable.  I can say, though I can't put my finger on the whys and hows, that the attitude in my car on the way to and from church, for the past month, has been different.  Lighter.  Especially with my oldest son.  

I wanted to meet with my pastor, to tell him all of this.  I wanted, no, needed him to know that my heart is full of love for my "old" church.  I am not leaving bitter, disgruntled, angry, or even simply unsatisfied.  None of those things is in my heart.  I want any readers of this blog, who attend that church, to know that, too.  It pains me to leave it, because it is so familiar, so comforting, so "home".  Even as we drove into the parking lot today, to meet with my pastor, Rory said, "THIS is our church."  And I know it's still confusing for my kids.  They are accepting of it, and mostly happy with it, but it will take awhile before they see someplace else as "home".  I understand that.  I get it because it's the same for me.  Even as I look forward to what God may have for me and the kids in this new place, I am currently grieving the leaving I am choosing to do.  But I can be at peace with this because I know I did not choose it on my own.  I know God was in this choice with me.  I would not have moved until He led me.  And I'm glad I waited.  

My pastor today threw out the word, "transition".  I will continue to meet for Bible study with my home group from my "old" church.  To me, there is no reason to break those bonds.  He said church walls are more fluid than they maybe used to be.  I will have "family" in two churches.  There is no reason in the world why people from two churches cannot fellowship together regularly, simply because they worship in different buildings on a Sunday morning.  

Some people won't understand.  Some will think or try to convince me that I need to stay in one place or another.  I don't fault them for that.  I understand.  I have peace knowing that God has led my family in this, and will continue to lead, wherever that may be.