Community

I would like to run away. I would like to be somewhere people don't know me and I can just be. I don't think that place really exists. I don't think I can really just be right now, but it's a nice escapist thought.

I have known people who tend to run away from things that get hard. It's just the way they cope. I would very very much like to be one of them. I know myself though. I would always end up with the same problems because I could never run away from me. You know, where ever you go there you are. What a pain in the ass truth.

I really want to run away from my faith community. A lot. I have enough issues with God right now, I don't want issues with his people. It's complicated because it seems like some weird things are happening simultaneously in my community. Eli died. There was so much prayer, love, and support from our church throughout Eli's illness and death. I understand that Eli's death really did break peoples' hearts and leave them scratching their heads at God. Only a couple weeks after Eli died, Abigail was born. She was supposed to be born and die. But she lived. And recently she had brain surgery and it turns out she really is going to live. So there's a lot of praising going on about that. Which, of course there is. As people of faith it is a natural and fitting reaction. I just don't really want to be a part of it. Not that I don't love Abigail's family or that I'm not happy for them. They are wonderful, gracious people. Of course I'm glad they get to keep their daughter. Everyone should get to keep their kids. I just don't understand how God works or how prayer works, and I'm not feeling particularly celebratory.

It would be easy to run away. I know exactly which faith community I would (eventually) plant myself in. I love a good plan. But is that the best thing for me?

Is it the best thing for my community?

Jesus was pretty big on community. Nadia Bolz-Weber points out in Accidental Saints that over and over Jesus heals people and then sends them back to their community. I think it's an important detail of God's character and intention for us.

It would be easy for me to leave my community. But I have this lurking thought that won't leave me, that perhaps if I left, both myself and my community would miss out on something bigger than either one of us. That this weird, unwanted tension is somehow holy.

There must be something otherworldly that can happen in a community when they deal with the hard stuff and wade through it together. It's fairly nauseating to me that in my community we have the depths of Eli's suffering and death and the height of Abigail's miracle. (I'm not entirely sure it's a miracle, but I'm probably the wrong person to decide that. It was definitely an amazing turn of events.)

I guess what I'm saying is we have these two contrasting events involving innocent children and real lives. People have been engaged in prayer and service to our two families. And they went so differently. So what do we do with that? Where does that leave us with God? If I left, like I want to, it would be easier to brush Eli's story under the rug and move on. I know many people wouldn't, but as a whole that would be likely to happen eventually.

But what if I stay, like I feel nudged to? I get to be the physical reminder all the time that we do not understand how God works. I get to be the one whose simple presence reminds others that God will not move mountains just because you prayed for him to do so. Sounds so great, right? Just peachy.

Truthfully, I feel exposed. And scared. I don't want to face this hideous holiness. It's too much to bear. It hurts.

There's something about the humanity in my life that always makes me think of women just like me in developing countries. Thinking through my situations in terms of how they might deal with it always brings me back to earth and often reveals wisdom to me. Not because I think I have it so much better, but because I think we're really all the same. A woman whose child died in a developing country does not have the opportunity to run away and find a new community. She has to stay in her community. I'm sure much of her experience is similar to mine- her grief, having friends who hold her up, having awkward interactions, dreading going to certain places, trying to avoid certain people. But if she can't leave her community and she has to let them walk through her pain with her, does something powerful happen? Is there growth that happens in her and in her community that is greater than any growth that might take place if she escaped her community in her grief? I kind of think so.

If I'm called to anything right now, it's to be true to my experience and to stay put. That probably means I should show up on Sunday sometime. No promises this week. But I'll think about it.

As far as Abigail's mom and I....we're trying. We have real love for one another, but there's almost a pit of pain between us. We didn't sign up for this. We don't know how to do this. It's just hard. We communicate a little bit. We're honest. I think there is enough grace for us. We're trying.