Over the course of one extraordinarily sucky month half of my home group that almost never really was left the church.
A girl could start to take something like that personally.
I'm not going to go into that tonight. Not so much anyway. But I was in a funk so dang low I'm not sure a cockroach could have scraped me off the floor with chewing gum and one of those pampered chef scrapers.
I just wanted to report that today I walked into church not hoping for much and was just overwhelmed with love for the people around me.
Just diagonal to the right was LT where she always is. Faithful and shining. And in front of her is the couple I almost never talk to and their teenagers and mother. Just like always. To my direct right is the couple with their adult daughters who always have a smile and encouraging word for me. Behind me is the drummer's wife and her son. And behind her is the usher ready to hold the door when I get tired of wrestling Charming through the announcements.
These people are constants. They aren't necessarily those that I've chosen to spend much time with outside the church's walls for one reason or another. I don't really know why. Not in the same life stage probably. But they are always there. In their places. We know when there is someone there that isn't usually. And we know when someone is gone.
I love these people. This is home. THEY are there.
I've been acting as if the whole church emptied when my friends left. A gaping void. A black hole. I wondered who was planning to fall into it next. Would I be the last one standing? If I stepped into the hole myself, would I stop the bleed?
But today I saw a glimmer of hope. And I spent a bit more time greeting those faithful ones that sit around me. These people are my family.
It turns out the pew isn't quite as empty as I imagined it to be.