The Past few Sundays I’ve watched my family pile into the car and pull out of our driveway on the way to church. I’ve chosen to stay behind. First it was because we got a new puppy, and he couldn’t last that long alone. Then it was because I was having severe back pain, and I could’t sit up that long. But then it was because I didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want to be around people.
I chose to listen to a sermon podcast instead. I cleaned up the house, lay in bed, and watched the sky turn milky with clouds and heavy rain like it was mourning too. I cried a lot and thumbed through my Bible like I was tuning a radio station but all I was getting was static. Nothing spoke to me, the Scriptures just blurred on the page. Mostly I talked to God.
Lately the world has felt like it’s not just divided, but ripped apart at the seams, and the unraveling crisscrosses the very center of me. I’ve felt raw and tender and couldn’t imagine making conversation with people about the weather or my health or our new puppy. I couldn’t imagine talking about the election without me falling apart. So I stayed home, because home didn’t ask anything of me. It needed no response, it needed no thoughts to be weighed or words to be chosen. It needed only to let me rest…
