The Good Stuff

So easy to get caught up in the bad stuff, the depressing stuff.  I find myself needing to make more of an effort to “count my blessings”.  Such an antequated sentiment, but maybe those old ladies knew what they were talking about.

I am grateful for:

- A husband with a job that he truly enjoys

- Good schools for my kids with great, caring teachers

- Provision of all my physical needs (and then some!)

- Good friends

- A loving family

- Family and individual health

- A vehicle that gets me where I need to go reliably (even if it’s trashed and smells like barf and dog)

There’s more, but there’s a start.  REALLY need to be more positive!

Catharsis

The urge to start a blog with my musings has finally become too great.  I’m not sure that I have much to add to the millions of words in the Blogosphere, but often while I’m musing I begin to wonder if anyone has the same thoughts I do.  So, I’m going to write them down and see if anyone relates.  That is, if anyone reads this….

I’ve been having a crisis of faith for a long time now.  For a girl who grew up in the church (Southern Baptist), it’s been a bit frightening.  I always thought church would be a part of my life and now there is hardly a Sunday when I don’t come away from church feeling completely despondent.  While I’ve found myself ready to throw faith entirely out the window, I would never do that because I realize the importance of giving my children a foundation of faith.  Let me be clear here:  there is a distinction between “faith” and “church.”  Faith is of God and is a good thing.  Church is made up of humans and can get pretty messed up.

I struggle.  With being a full time, stay home mom.  With wanting to be back in the Big 8 world.  With wanting to work.  With wanting to go back to school (God knows I’ve had enough school already!).  With wanting to matter.  With wanting to belong.

Here are my writings.  Hope they make sense.  Hope you’ll comment a little.

Sunday Morning Despair

Maybe I’ve always hated Sunday Mornings.

What a terrible thing to admit as a good Christian girl.  I can tell you that I’ve never hated them as much as I do now.  As much as I have for the past 6 years.

I can tell you that I don’t remember looking forward to Sunday, but I know I once did.

Church used to represent community for me.  Belonging.  Family.  Family of Friends. Learning.  Worship.  Singing.

Now it represents the fact that I don’t belong in this Dutch community, and I doubt I ever will.   It represents to me a club that I don’t belong to.  And it hurts.  It hurts beyond words.

I despair more on Sunday mornings than on any other day.

I’m tired of fighting, tired of trying to find the right place.  Because it just don’t exist.

As a mom, I feel an obligation to find a church and stay there.  For my kids.  Especially when their Saturday night prayer is that we will go to church tomorrow.  I think if it weren’t for the kids, I would have given up a long time ago.  As it is, I’m ready to give up now.  And what a terrible parent that makes me.

It comes down to hating this place.  This town.  To wanting out.  Desperately.

What a terrible feeling it is to not belong.