Mostly, I think they love when they hear me rant. They've known me a long, long time, some very personal things I've done, I've gone through, the tears I've ripped out of my soul, and mostly, through the years of all of us together online, they've known me for my anger, my ranting. My righteous indignation of perceived trials and personal tribulations.
So... here I am.
I probably need to backtrack a bit to let the readers of this particular blog know that I did, indeed, go to the Faux Marriage Counseling alone. It was... enlightening. I haven't blogged since. I wasn't sure what to say, if anything. Those who know me well know I have deep knowledge of all things theological, but that I don't practice a thing with it.
But I've kept that private. Only those in my house and my parents know that I've started going to church. This is my first public statement to that regard. I've had some very odd things happening to me personally, just me, effecting JUST ME, but they've been strong, and I'm smart enough not to ignore it all. I'm not the stupid chick in a book or movie who wanders down the dark basement stairs alone after hearing a noise. When I hear something, I acknowledge it for what it is, good or bad. But the darkest stairs ever lead to the scariest place I've ever known: My own mind.
I'm not happy that my mind is dark, but I definitely recognize it, and accept it as it is after years of trying to change it. It's just me. During that one counseling session, I got a bit irked that he wanted to put a label on me: Christian or non-Christian? Don't label me. I gave my blathering facts of who I am, and then he pointed out that in my defense against labeling, I had the audacity to slap personal definitions of when *I* thought things meant.
It was quite the wake up call, and in the weeks since then, I find myself letting go of the ideals I've allowed myself to believe in so thoroughly and completely and blindly, and to realize that if He can accept me without predefined definitions, I damn well should be able to accept it myself.
So I'd gone to church a couple of times on Wednesday nights, but today was the first time in my adult life that I went alone, just me, for me, no kids, no parents, no special occasion. Just me.
The church is small, maybe 50 people. They flocked to me, genuinely happy to have me there. I feel like an ant under the magnifying glass, with the heat burning down on me when really, they just want a closer look at this new thing that's traveled within their view. Can't really blame them for that at all, and everyone is so sweet. No one wonders why two of my kids have one last name, and two more of my kids have another last name, and how soon I will have a new last name as well. They just accept.
Today's sermon was "Circumstances do not control our destiny." With some things going on that I'm witnessing, I can't help but think of this line repeatedly. If my circumstances had been this, then maybe _________ would have resulted, or I'd be with _________ living _________. But would I? Or is it like I've been thinking the last few months, that I'm exactly where I need to be? Everyone is exactly where they're meant to be, maybe to stay, maybe to pass through. With particular things being experienced today, I want to scream, "He was mine!" but I can't. I want to kick and flail at the life I thought I was to experience, to live, to grow in, and in the end, it's not. I witness and remain quiet, because to do otherwise serves no purpose.
It wasn't my destiny.
I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
I'm growing and developing and hurting and loving and crying and laughing right where I'm supposed to be -- living the life I was destined to live, regardless of the circumstances.