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.
