A New Chapter

I’ve recently begun to settle into a new life, a new home, in a new town. It’s been easier in a lot of ways, but also so painfully hard in others. 

The pain didn’t happen right away.  It was great at first. I loved the quiet. I loved being so close to the people that I love. 

But the thing with being disabled and chronically ill, is you spend a LOT of time alone, because unlike everyone else who has jobs and things to keep them busy. You have pain, rest, and time. 

Unfortunately for me that leaves a lot of time for the sads to hurt me now because the people I want around me all the time can’t be.  I struggle, and I don’t know that, it will ever change. 

I am feeling it even more now because the already small social circle I had before is pretty much non-existent now. I’ve been abandoned and stabbed in the back by one I had gotten super close to thinking I had maybe found one of my people.  The rest of my circle was tied to my former life, and only wanted me with conditions that I couldn’t live under.  I will not settle for love with conditions. Especially when those conditions mean not being true to myself, and isolation from anyone that’s not of my own age bracket, or frowning upon friends outside of the church.  

Funny how it sounds like a cult when I say it like that. It’s not honest, but I will never deny that a lot of changes have to be made, and they are. But in order to really force the change you have to be inside the church.  Some of us in the church love it enough to try to be the change and to push it to be better. 

The problem is the people who’ve spent their lives at the top and who don’t live their faith the same. Who loves the status quo. Or more than likely love their paycheck. Let's be honest, since I’ve discovered that most of them make $100K+ a year, the problems plaguing the church suddenly make a lot more sense. 

Yet the ones doing the most work in the church are expected to live in poverty. Struggling to do ministry on top of that at their own expense. 

And then have the nerve to ask why the church is dying because no one comes to church and no one keeps up with ministry. 

Those that know the church is dying, know why the church is dying.  Those in the church that don’t are part of the problem. 

Which is in part, what made my decision to move and force myself to start this journey again. It wasn’t an easy decision. But a lot of things played into it. And in the end I had to choose myself. 

I needed to land in a place where I could grow. Where I could find the love and support that I deserve. Where I could have people - who really wanted to be in my life. Not just the odd intergenerational relationship. While those are great, and I love those people, it’s a hard life knowing that everyone you love is on borrowed time. (when most are over 88, that’s exactly what it is, and they say that.)  

So, I started the process of shifting things from where I was to thinking about where I wanted to be. But very quickly, I knew the only place I wanted to be was here.  I couldn’t think of being anywhere else. (Not for lack of trying) Everything I ever wanted was here. 

When things started to be stripped away, it just seemed more so that I was making the right choice. I was choosing me, for once. Not something I often did in the past. But this time, I was choosing me and I was chasing what would make me happy. 

I’ve continued to do that since. I’ve stepped away from people that couldn’t love me without conditions. I stepped away from ministry that I couldn’t love with my whole heart. 

I’ve never shied away (much) from taking up space, but I refuse to take up space once I realize that I don’t belong. 

People love to talk about the ministry of staying in place - but unfortunately we still live in a world, where people are unwelcome just for existing. 

Poverty also makes it impossible for some people to form roots. As rich developers come and buy up all the land, houses, rental properties, jacking up rental costs along the way, the poor are forced to keep moving. Further and further to find rent they can afford. 

I know, I am one of those people. I move knowing that if I am lucky I have maybe two years in each place. Occasionally a landlord skips a year of upping rent and I get an extra year or two. But that’s not very often.  And I think that’s why I had so much trouble finding a place this time. Landlords are now taking in people they know they can siphon more money from over time. 

I’m holding out hope that something will change, and come into my life that will be the difference this time. I don’t know if that will be so. But I choose to hope.  

That hope is what helps me put one foot in front of the other, even when life is hard.  It is what has me looking at churches around me and ministry opportunities. 

It has me pondering when and if I want to go back to classes, if I want to get back on the radar of the things I was before. Or if I want to make my own path. 

A decision I will not be rushing. Instead, I am taking the summer to just be. To unpack, to live, to explore, and to take a deep breath. 

To discern. 

To sit in silence. 

To find time for all the things I wanted to do; that I could never make time for.  

To give myself time to just live for me. 

Instead of everyone else. 

But what does that mean and what does it look like?

Now that I am finally settled, I plan to get back to writing and building faith and spoons all that I want it to be. 

I want to get back into my hobbies, and fun things. 

I want to get back into reading, puzzles, colouring, creating, and finding time to be outside. 

I want to build a new social circle. I want to embrace parts of me that got put on the back burner. 

I am reminded as I think about jumping back in that God’s time works differently. God works slowly. And I think that’s important here. 

I can remember all those feelings and thoughts I had when I watched Godspeed.  I think I am going to settle in and really dive into that again and see where it takes me. 

Where God takes me.