Confession: my husband died on May 13, and I haven’t physically been to church or worshipped with others, since. (I know? Right? Yes, I’m still a follower of Jesus. No, I’m not avoiding God. (This time.) I’ve been avoiding the pain of worship without the man who first showed me who Jesus is. I’ve been avoiding missing his hand in mine raised together in praise. I’ve been avoiding the silence of his (terrible) voice singing with mine. Honestly? The idea of church without him is a deep layer of grief I just wasn’t ready for.
But then: #MOMcon17. I’ve been involved with MOPS for 27 years. #MOMcon has always been a huge part of my spiritual filling. It’s also one of the rare places where I’d typically not worship with my love- but with thousands of my sisters.
This week? It was time. I entered into worship in the safe place of the presence of women united in heart and soul and goal. And it was amazing.
I didn’t know how much I needed it. First it was a sacrifice. There were tears, but there were also hands held. Hugs given. There was Eye contact that said: “I know you’re hurting, I’m with you. I’m hurting with you.”
In those moments, my avoidance of pain gave way to worship. It changed from an offering of pain to an offering of praise. For what God has done. For what he is doing. For (whatever the heck) his will be doing.
It moved me to be ready for the next thing. Worship at our home church. Where: I also have people. Sisters. Brothers. A place where yes- Kyle’s absence will be intensely felt, but so will god’s love and the love of our church.
Sometimes it takes tiny steps to move us forward. In grief. In pain. In stuckness and change. Today as I head home, I’m wondering if I’m the only one who needs to take a tiny step. Towards God? Towards others, who can make eye contact and fill your soul. Or maybe from grief to praise.
If you’re in that space with me- you’re not alone. I get it. And I desperately want to make eye contact and eve with you in it. I want you to experience the freedom of tiny steps.