Church yesterday was awesome. Awe. Some. Our Sunday School class teacher, Jason, just totally brought it, teaching on complaining against God (from Exodus). It was the kind of lesson I'll still be thinking about in 3 weeks. Then, last night, one of our associate pastors, Blake, taught on the church as a family. He gave some biblical examples about the metaphor of the church as family, then he offered an invitation for members to share the time when our church first felt like family to them.
I listened as friends shared, realizing I had been there for much of their testimonies....and letting the metaphor sink in. That IS what families do. They're there. I wasn't tempted to speak, because I hate to speak in front of others, but the first thought that popped into my head was Christie and Rodney sitting with me watching Nick at Nite in the hospital when I had been there five days straight with Neeny, waiting to see whether she would recover from a stroke....couldn't bear to leave, couldn't bear to sleep, couldn't even talk...and Rodney and Christie sat with me halfway through the night. I don't know if I have ever thanked them for that, and don't know if I could find the right words if I were to try.
Then, I thought about other times that my church was my family. During that same hospital stay, Shari brought me toothpaste and smoothed my hair while making me try to nap. That simple act of kindness about undid me. Jim M spoke to a family member in a way that stuck with him, making him think that perhaps all Christians aren't, in fact, con artists. You can't know what a task that was. Jeff prayed with my grandmother and with us, Renee' worked with the nursing staff to get information, Ted and Kelly shared Christ with my brothers in the waiting room, and kept the mood light with stories and cutting up.....
It goes on. My church felt like family when.....
.....I was floundering in college, couldn't make a right decision to save my life, had grown up in church but took liberties with my salvation....and Jeff opened his apartment to the singles for a Bible study. I do not know how many times I heard him ask, "Really? Do you think so? Well, do you want to hear what the Bible says?" and I don't know if he'll ever know that that's how muddy waters became clear(er) for me.
....when Rose wrote me letters to be sure I was actually APPLYING what I was learning while I was away at school, and God used those letters to convict me to the point that things had to change. I love that girl. I really love her.
....when Hatfield first told me about my mom working one summer as a youth in this same church....and about where he was the day he heard that my dad had been killed. Hatfield actually fills up a lot of my heart space. He tells me every, single week how much he loves me when I get to choir practice. Every week. He tells a joke, asks about my brother, then loves on me. On us. All of us.
....choir practice in general. The people who sit around me can't possibly realize what they mean to me. Choir practice is one of the highlights of my week. Seriously.
....when Jim P, our former music minister, spent his birthday with me in the hospital when Ben was born. Pat had recently passed away. I think he spent 3 hours of his birthday with me, telling me the birth stories of his daughters, reminiscing about his wife, and just being....wonderful.
....when the Schmidts moved away. And the Fowlers. And the Todds. And the Baums. And the Clarys. And others. It felt like a missing family member every time. Still does.
....when Kaela was born, and there were 60 visitors from church to the hospital. 60 VISITORS. It blew my mind then. It blows my mind even more now.
....when Matt catches me in choir and tells me to get my butt back to Sunday School if I miss 2 weeks in a row.
....when Jim T came to my grandparents' house every Friday night to help dress and put Grandaddy to bed. After sitting with his own parents and feeding them dinner in the nursing home.
....when Judy invited my entire family to her home for Christmas the year my dad died, so that we wouldn't have to face Christmas home without him just yet.
....when Sherry talks to me about school stuff, life in 5th grade, students, reading programs, etc....and it reminds me that I'm not alone in my convictions, frustrations, or joys. She is such a gift to me!!
....when Beth comes and finds me because I've forgotten nursery again--and doesn't fuss at me. Or when she asks some blunt question that cuts right to the core of whatever it was that I DIDN'T want to talk about....and I love that she is able to do that.
....when Paul makes up a word pun and has moved on to a second or a third by the time my mind catches up to the first....and I don't know whether to laugh late, or store it up and hope I'm quicker next time!
....when we have socials. Or camp together. Or do movie night. Game night. Whatever.... and I know the house doesn't have to be totally together first--here or in others' homes--because that isn't the point.
There are so many ways that my church has become a second family to me. There are things I haven't written, people and memories that are still so fresh, or dear, or inextricably woven into my heart that I couldn't be adequate if I were to try here. My best friend(s) attends my church.
What it boils down to is, in my mind, every time I get restless and want to move away to the far reaches of the world to begin again, the far reaches of the world are almost always within a 20 mile radius of my church. How dumb would it be to willingly look for a way to leave the ones I truly love, and who love me? They already know I'm a hot mess, but pray for me anyway. I don't know where I'd be without them.
I want my children to know them.
My family.
The rest of my family.
What about you? Has your church ever felt more like your family? When and how?
1 comment:
I love you. <3
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