Dear Pastor..

Today was Easter and we celebrated the risen Lord and you had to rise before dawn to serve our church. You and a handful of people gave of your Easter celebration time to feed our community pancakes and chocolate eggs. By the time I got to the church you were sweaty from hard work and carrying a ladder around (I never found out what for) but it made me sad that instead of being able to sit and visit with the people attending and eating breakfast - mostly people from our community that don’t regularly attend church - you were running around with a ladder doing last minute things, or past minute things. 

Some people would say “well, you are the pastor, this is the job”

But I would disagree. I don’t believe it to be the job of the pastor to be working for the people so hard that he doesn’t get to know the people. I don’t think it’s the pastor’s job to be there first and leave last. I don’t think it’s the pastor’s job to do all the things for all the people. I don’t think it’s the pastor’s job to let the people consume and consume in a gluttonous fashion the gifts and offerings of the church to the point where they aren’t just consuming the gifts but are also consuming the pastor, and his family.

During the service time, or worship time, you also were playing with the band. Again, serving your church. And it is wonderful to see that my pastor enjoys being part of different ministries but I also noticed that while you were serving your church your family was sitting without you. In fact, I noticed that you and your family had gone all morning barely having a chance to say 3 words to each other. Certainly you were not able to enjoy breakfast together as most of the rest of the attenders were. 

I am sorry that you were not able to celebrate Easter morning with your family as everyone else was. I wish I knew how to fix that for you. I have tried to be involved in different things at our church to help out and serve but as a mom with three young children I find it hard to give time to those ministries, my husband is not always able to help as he works on Sundays and some Sundays seem more demanding than others. I can imagine by the time you get home Sunday afternoons you must be exhausted. I know I am spent after trying to contain and teach my three children during the combined worship time our church does. 

I wish this scenario was just a one time deal. But, I realize that this is “normal” that Church holidays mean no rest for the pastor. And that even every Sunday, while some Christians would argue for the legality of Sabbath Rest, you are literally sweating for your church. Working so hard that you often have nothing left for your family. Again, I wish I knew how to fix this. If you told me that shouting from the pulpit to everyone to do more, to not just come and take, but to come and give would help, I would do it in a heartbeat. 

Maybe I’m way off base. Maybe you love being the one to do 90% of the work. Maybe you love to go home every Sunday feeling completely spent. Maybe you are happy to spend all your time running here and there. Maybe that’s your jam. I think though, maybe not. I think you love your people. I think you get charged up when you can visit and pray and laugh and teach. I think, like the rest of us, you thrive when you are able to use your gifts. 

I am praying for you dear Pastor. I am praying for you every day that with every day that passes you are able to serve with your gifts more. I am praying that your family gets the best of you and that you are able to give this church the rest of the best because of that. I am praying that your family does not resent us for consuming you. That they would see that we are sinners that love God and our Church and you and not always in that order. And that sometimes we forget that you are a sinner too. I am praying that your family would have grace for us in our weakness. 

Thank you dear Pastor for coming and serving us. Thank you for teaching us about our Lord. Thank you for living our Our Lord right before our very eyes. 

I pray that we take the hint.

Sincerely,

sinner and Christ lover.

surprise..

It was twelve years ago,

   You plucked me from my nest and dropped me in a foreign culture.

  For three months you had me living in a bubble. 

       I had nowhere to go.

I couldn’t do anything but face my fears and doubts and shame.

I needed to move forward.

  But, I was paralyzed by fear, by distrust.

I had to ask you, I needed to know.

What do you think of me?

And of course you answered.

     So loud, it was so loud.

I love you.

you are beautiful.

       But you didn’t stop there.

Do you love Me?

Do you trust Me?

Why is it so easy to answer the first and so hard to answer the second?

          Why can’t we let go of the fear of the unknown?

And you said,

So, that is when you should be trusting in Me. When you’re scared. Not trusting in Me isn’t going to make the unknown known.

So maybe, I don’t trust myself.

      I don’t know myself as well as I thought I did.

But who knows you better that you know yourself?

Who knit you together?

Who knows the number of hairs?

You are created in MY image.

Trust Me Colleen. Rest in Me. 

   Wait on Me and I will teach you what I think of you and you will know yourself because of your love for Me.

..and you will know yourself because of your love for Me..

And as loud as your presence entered it left and I was left with the quiet echo of those last words.

And here I am, twelve years later, and I had to go back and search for your love and truth and trust again because of my soul amnesia.

fractured..

I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore, a few months ago I had more words than I knew what to do with and I was entering into a writers group. I had all sorts of encouragement from friends and family to carry on. I even felt affirmed and encouraged by God that I was on the right path. Then it happened. A person, a writer I respected responded to my request for connection through social media with a  resounding “yes”. As I tried to not fangirl, I cooly clicked away on the computer and connection complete. Well, it was all a fallacy. This writer had no intention of really connecting as a few weeks later I was dropped like a hot mess. I wrote about this briefly on instagram but it is a re-opening of a deep wound. A wound I thought had fully healed, a wound that went far deeper than I thought because it triggered a lot of feelings from my youth. Dishonesty, feeling like a fool, seeking approval, pedestal lifting, seeking my value and worth in others. So it has been a wakeup call of sorts for me and has consumed my thoughts and pushed me down a pit with no words.

you’re probably thinking “but Colleen, you have words right now”

Except, I don’t even really want to be writing this out for you all. Maybe, it’s not so much that I don’t have the words but that I’m kind of lost and don’t have the heart for it. My heart is a bit fractured.

Since this happened I have been looking at social media differently. I have been looking at it more suspicious of motive, more skeptic of sincerity. I follow, or was following 9 different christian writer/bloggers on Facebook and or instagram. Most of them know each other and support each other so there is this whole #squadgoals thing going on that puts a magnifying glass on my lonely northern life as my “squad” lives elsewhere. Almost all of them have written a book or two and hawk each others wares through their social media or domains. They all follow and like the same stuff and so propagate this culture within the christian blogger/writer community that feels contrived and one time it felt like one of them was using a family tragedy to hashtag her new book. 

So, there it is. It all feels like smoke and mirrors, just a big marketing parade. Put it all out there, write what your readers want to read. None of it feels real anymore so I dropped all but two of them, The only two that don’t feel like they’re trying to be like everyone else with their writing.

OMG! who cares about your feet?!

What does this all have to do with my writing? I’ve got nothing. Since seeing behind the Oz curtain I feel like there is nothing there for me. That I was fooling myself that subconsciously I was trying to be like them and it now seems pointless. 

I have no words, no heart to write. What my mind and heart ponders, I write in my personal journal and keep it to myself. Nothing is inspiring or motivating me. Honestly? I feel defeated. Part of the challenge is that I don’t care. I don’t care to put my feelings into words then put those words out there for everyone else. I don’t want to turn into one of “them” that would sell out my family to get more readers on my blog or likes on insta or fb. Earlier this year I started to build a monument. It was supposed to be everyday but it was getting harder. I was running out of things to say and I felt like I was getting repetitive and was just doing it because somebody out there was expecting it, so it lacked sincerity. Therefore, I’m not publicly adding stones to my monument anymore. Because sometimes you don’t need to know all that is going on in my heart between me and my God.

Part of my writing started because I was angry and I’m not angry anymore but, I am lonely. Lonely and tired and mommy brained out and disillusioned. This well is dry and dark. And writing - just throwing stuff out into the ether won’t fix it.

I have been on my knees a lot but it has been slow. God isn’t filling up my cup as quickly as I’d like and the wounds of my youth are still to tender to the touch. 

I wrote all this to tell you thank you for encouraging me over this last year but I don’t know if I have anymore to say and any desire to say it anymore. I’m leaving the blog up in case I feel compelled but for now,

Grace, Love and Peace