Sunday, August 13, 2017

Chapter 6.....3 years in led to 3 years out

This next part of my journey....man, I've written and rewritten it for weeks. It's what led to my decision to tell the ENTIRE journey thus far actually. I didn't totally have words for this season and it bought me a little time.


I again caution, because there are still people I love and who love me that worship in that place and have community in that place, do not read my journey as if I am somehow sharing what you should be doing with yours. But in the midst of secrets and smoke and mirrors and my story being told by others...I decided it was right and fine to tell my own story.... all of it.  In our liturgy today we talked about asking 'how did we get here?'  And it's funny because I know that's part of why I wanted, no needed to share.  I finally feel like I've gotten through some muck and am standing on solid ground for a bit.  And with a little distance and clarity I can see a little more clearly. 




So we went to the big non denominational church.  And it was a right fit at a right time.


I learned so many things about studying the bible there.
I met so many people who loved Jesus and believed in the power of prayer.
I learned so many ways to bring my faith into my daily life.
I discovered a lot about myself.
I truly embraced the idea that if I only love Him and love others so many things in my broken reality could be ok...and even if they weren't, they were.


We engaged quickly and became engulfed with classes and groups and teams and activities. We volunteered. We signed our kids up. We dove in.


We were different. But it was okay. Different such that we..... listened to different music. Disciplined our kids different. (if one more person tried to force me to 'Love and Logic') Celebrated holidays differently. But we found friends and a community.


We served in so many different areas. Children's Ministry, prison ministry, worship ministry, marriage ministry....we then progressed to leading groups, teaching classes, my husband became a full time stateside missionary.  I felt as if even though there weren't a lot of people like us...(PS I mean Mexican and Black by the way) it was ok because we were accepted and loved.


And then I joined the staff.  And my journey was about to change.


Because I would never look at Christians the same.


I knew I was in for trouble my very first week. I had come from a job where on my last day I couldn't leave when I was supposed to because I had to stay on the phone with my client---a young adult who had threatened to end their life--until the police came and I knew they were safe. And just a few days into this new job, I was at a table with co workers discussing camp for the following summer and an argument broke out regarding the color of the tshirt that was going to be chosen. A serious argument that had faces turning red and voices being raised. And I began to angry cry. (Angry cry, for those who don't know me, is what occurs when I am equally pissed and sad and have to choose between losing my cool in a potentially aggressive/violent way or burst into tears. When asked what was wrong, I had to slam my hand on the table and say that I couldn't believe just a week ago I was dealing with real issues and real problems and here we were arguing about the color of a fricken tshirt?????  A tshirt which incidentally a great many of us moms were not crafting into quilts or pillows or art but were cutting for rags or donating to Goodwill.  Please tell me this was not real life.


But. It was.  


Over and over I would find myself caught in these odd scenarios....real life 'What Would You Do' interactions....where my family and friends who were not a part of this church would ask me over and over 'how are you doing this?  how are you surviving?' And as this was occurring.....there were ugly secrets and lies...reputations smeared...questions posed in ways that made you feel there was a 'right' answer and if you didn't know what the answer was....you were suddenly not on the team.


Both. Became more than I could bear.


I struggled. And I fought with myself about what my role was.  I knew that I could not stay silent about things that weren't okay, but I really tired quickly, as did my husband, in being the 'voice' or 'face' to represent something.  Also there were times when I might bring something up and it was well received....doesn't mean they always agreed but that they were open to discussion, to finding out more about the different perspective.....and there were times where I could tell the people I was speaking with really just wished I would shut up and get in line.  (PS. I hate lines)  I can't do anything but give examples because I'm tired of being cryptic. So that's what I'm going to do.


Special week with a theme of Taking it to the Streets. That week. Was incredibly hard. So many little things, but to name two.... we got an email asking us to bring in garbage so that the stage could be decorated for the city.  No, no, no, no, no.  Also, beautiful, full color postcards had been printed as promo for the family meals that were offered that week. Those meals had come to be known as the diner....that year?  the Soup Kitchen. No, no, no, no, no.  Both times, I ran to my boss's office and slammed the door and hollered and cried and in her sweet, gentle way she talked me out of spitting on people and quitting. And she helped me find my voice to go and have hard conversations requesting that this not happen....explaining that not everyone saw this as ok.  The garbage email?  Well, that person did not like my critique.  I could tell by her face and body language. She smiled and said they were decorating for the city so of course that's where mind went first.  I assured her that the city is more than skid row and off the top of my head there's bus stops, parks, trees, food trucks, people, buildings...just to name a few.  The postcard?  Immediately production was stopped and new postcards were printed, with the name back to the diner.  The person took ownership that it had not even entered their mind that it might not be appropriate, but of course they could see how that was insensitive and thanked me for being bold to speak up.


There were so many situations like this. Unwed pregnant mom----she can no longer be a leader? Ok cool. But I'm not telling her that. That's gonna have to be one of you.  Young child on the autism spectrum too difficult or disruptive for large group, so can they stay back in the classroom? Yea, that's not about to happen. Sorry Charlie.  Over and over. I learned who I could trust and who to avoid. I knew who had authentic love for me and who 'tolerated' me.


3 years in...I knew I would have to leave.  I remember the day.  I had to leave early.  And it was the first time that I felt totally alone in that place.


It was the day Obama was elected. His first term. I had put up with a lot during campaign season. Snide comments. Inappropriate jokes. Sarcastic remarks. Things that were not appropriate at the work place...much less coming from Christians.  But that day. That day, a staff person came to work wearing black and carrying a 'joke' bottle of 'NOBAMA' pills.  And was walking around, offering them to people. And people were laughing.  And she was not checked.  And I knew I had to get out of there before she got to me because I could feel it rising in me....I would've put down my Jesus and knocked the shit outta her.  So once again, into my bosses office I went. I don't remember if I told her the truth of why I had to leave or not....because from there it was a blur.  Grabbing my bag, racing to the car and then sobbing uncontrollably the entire way home. Not because she didn't want Obama elected. Believe me, that place might as well have been the Republican headquarters, so I was used to Republican rhetoric being widely accepted as the 'right' way to think....but that nobody, to my knowledge, pulled her aside, made her put them away and corrected her behavior.  Man, I pray I'm wrong and at some point that conversation happened....but to my knowledge it did not.


And so my prayer began....God. Please release me.  But there would be three more years of reflection, growth, and change before that day would come.


That's what I've got today.









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