We experienced our first Sunday here. I almost said “survive” but it wasn’t hard to survive at all, so that word isn’t right. It was lovely really. Meeting more people then I ever thought I could, worrying that I won’t remember their names (I know I won’t, I once forgot my own future husband’s name). I reached out to people, enjoyed getting to know them laughed. The service was lovely, they laid hands on us, which was very meaningful, they sang songs I knew that made me feel connected and songs I didn’t know which made my heart stir.
What a strange moment. To feel the presence of God, to know that this is His bride too. To be excited and happy and to also feel sadness and loss. Wondering how things were going back “home.” My mom told me that my oldest son cried when they went to church Saturday night. He said he liked the service but it made him miss Central.
Yeah, I know that feeling.
This morning the dog and I walked down to the sound. We found a bench high up where we could see the glittering water spread out below, the mountains rising out of the back and I thought about beauty and sadness. I’m happy to be here, excited even, but I also know that there is grief I need to face. Loss, a hurt that hasn’t healed completely. I’ll be exploring some of that here, taking you along on our journey through the last two years. Maybe some of you will understand, maybe it can help some of us to know we aren’t alone.
For now, I keep going back to the water. Waiting for God to speak to me. To whisper His healing over me. Kind of afraid to pick up my pen and really explore the dark corners. It was easier to bury it all in cardboard boxes and the rush of leaving. But there’s healing too, the way that the water washes a rock smooth.