This Old House

Stopped by our old house today to check on things and it was like a torture session. The house looks fantastic. It smells good. If I saw it now I would definitely buy it again. Too bad no one has requested a showing in the three months it's been listed. All that loveliness for no one. And we're still paying the mortgage.

It's creepy to me to visit our old neighborhood. In some ways, I was so content with it. I liked our neighborhood and our house and our neighbors. The few years we lived there were also the most painful, oppressive years of my life so far. Poor house. I will probably never think of it fondly. More like an attractive prison.

Crazy

A few weeks ago I wrote that a congregation had called my husband. He has accepted the call. That is (of course!) good news. It also has the potential to make me completely insane.

By the end of the summer, we will have packed and unpacked our entire house, live in a new community, my kids will be in new schools, we will all be getting acquainted with a new congregation and a new schedule, and I will be visiting an oncologist twice a month for therapeutic poison-drips. Nothing on that list appeals to me. Every bit of it has come to me unbidden.

Here's the crazy part: I am not freaked out. I am, today, entirely calm. I feel content about accepting the call and making the move. I feel confident that God is guiding us there and that He will provide what we need as we need it. I am almost rolling my eyes at myself as I write this because it sounds so pious.

I feel like I am witnessing my own death and resurrection. I surrender. I give up on trying to figure out my life and make it work right. I'll focus on today and thank God for giving me the grace to trust that He will provide everything I need when tomorrow gets here.

Adrenaline Rush

I have had a surprisingly pleasant week. My life really, absolutely sucks a lot right now. In the (roughly) two years I've been dealing with depression, though, I've found that the adrenaline rush of a crisis alleviates depressive symptoms. For a while.

Going to the hospital, finding out I had a tumor, focusing on coming home, then coming home and enjoying the rush of love, encouragement and support from friends and family buoyed me for several days.

This afternoon I started to sink again and could almost feel the clouds descending. The vague notions I've had this week of chemotherapy, a likely move (still considering that call!), and the weight of all the work and decisions that lie between here and there looks like TOO MUCH. A lot too much.

Prayerfully Considering

A church has called Husband to be its pastor. I think that this should be very exciting to me. It is kind of exciting, but right now it seems more overwhelming. Taking a call requires a lot of energy. Staying here is unsatisfying and will eventually be financially impossible, but it's a grating kind of anxiety rather than a decisive challenge.

In the last few weeks I've finally started to believe that we need to move away from here. Proximity to our last congregation makes it difficult to feel separate from the trauma we met there.

We have, like most clergy families, moved lots. Every previous move was sad but I looked forward to discovering what I would love about our new home. I don't feel that way this time. When I imagine moving I feel exhausted about getting acquainted with a new community, new people, new schools....

Can a move still be good even if it makes me want to hide?

The Ninny Report

This is so immature of me, but sr. pastor is still making me bananas and I need to whine about it. Today the staff was all together for devotions and sr. pastor gave a briefing about the candidates the call committee is considering to fill my husband's position.

And my husband was in the room.

And no one on the staff has said anything about his leaving, or we'll miss you, or we wish you well. Several public announcements about calling a new pastor, no public announcements about saying goodbye to THE ONE WHO IS STILL SERVING THEM!

He is such an idiot about dealing with people.

Tired Thinking

I feel like there are a thousand things I would like to write about here. Trying to write with enough clarity that someone else can understand how I feel is very helpful to me. It helps me complete thoughts and understand myself better.

But today I feel too spent to think. I'm feeling anxious about several different things, including vague possibilities that are arising about where God might call Husband to serve next. I want to be open to God's plan for us, but feel too tired to consider new possibilities. I'd rather take a nap and someone can wake me up when it's time to move on.

The Phone Isn’t Ringing

A few months ago, my husband was contacted by a congregation to see if he would be open to a call. (YES!) He spoke to them, met with them in person, and we waited. And waited. It’s been a nice reprieve, one door ajar in this long, dark tunnel.

Yesterday we heard that they called another pastor. At first I felt no particular disappointment that we must remain or relief that we don’t have to muster the energy to start something new. I felt only concerned for my husband. When I look at him I cry. I am so desperate to rescue him from this soul-crushing situation.

Today, I am exhausted, sad, and so done with cross bearing. In the last few days there have been more horrid conversations with the church leadership. More defensiveness, more blindness to our pain, more rigid rule-following and efforts to shove my husband into a tiny box.

We sound seriously pathetic in prayer. “God, this is too much for us. It feels like this place is going to destroy us. We don’t know what You are doing here. We need You.” Utter dependence feels like a crappy arrangement right now.