I go to church

I am leaving my job this week. I started this job when I was 18. I moved to a new state, with a new wardrobe, in my old car and started working for something I knew nothing about (pre internet you just had to do stuff). And tomorrow is the first day of my last week. I am sad, excited, scared, and feel a sense of freedom. 

Here I have met almost every person I love, with the exception of those I am related to. Here I have had opportunities to meet neighbors and students that I would never have had the courage to meet. Here is where I have found my voice, found my footing, found my home. This job was everything for part of my life, then it was an important thing, and now it's a place I worked. 

When I moved to Arkansas there were five of us who worked to start up this new thing, four of us lived in the same building, and the person that introduced me to my church home lived next door. He was completely nuts, and completely kind, and completely one of my best friends after 2 years of being my neighbor. Before he left Little Rock, he took me to church with him, and it was there I found a community I did not know existed. 

We have established that I have crazy anxiety that can be crippling. I want to do so many things and often sink into the nothing that keeps me safe and is fueled by fear. When I went to church I knew I wanted to be part of this community. I wanted to know the people in the pews and I wanted to praise God here in this place. So I did. 

I was invited over and over and it was not until I was sitting at Betsy's house with my small group crying and praying that I realized I belong. Not because I was the hardest worker, or the one to say yes, or the one to speak her mind. I belonged because I was with a community that loved me, they just loved me. 

Today I sat in church nearly 15 years from the first time I visited, and a year and a half since quarantine. I hugged my church family, worshiped with my family, and cried as I listened to the sermon. I belong here, if I have ever belonged anywhere it is here. Part of anxiety and early childhood trauma is disassociating, not feeling you belong, or  wanted, or a part of something. It's like looking from the outside when you are standing in the center. 

Today though, I stood in the center and felt like I was in the center. The center of Christ's love, the center of my life, the center of where this long journey has taken me. Today a young boy stood in front of the church, next to his dad, and said I want to be in the center of this love. And today I mourned a kind man that was a church deacon and called me every month during the pandemic to see how I was doing. Not to ask me for anything, just called to chat and let me know I belonged.  

I am leaving my job this week, a community that I have loved and cherished for 25 years. A place where I grew up. And this week I realized that God has been at the center of that work. It's not something I talk about. It's not something I can or should talk about as the boss and leader, and it's true. God was and always has been at the center of the work. The center of the bravery. The center of the decisions. My work was my ministry. 

And though I will be leaving this job I loved, I realize it is not the work that gave me 25 years of friendship, love, growth, and belly laughs. It was my faith. A faith that I share with my family at Second Baptist Church. It seems fitting that the week I leave my job, the sanctuary opened. 

I go to church. I love going to church. I belong to a community that loves Christ, Loves Neighbors, and loves me. I am so lucky to have a life where God sees me, knows me, and gave me a place.