I haven't attended church since my aunt died.
Well, I haven't attended church and cared since then anyhow. That was eighteen months ago (on Thursday). I went a couple times with my best friend, but wasn't really there.
On Christmas eve I chose to attend at a small(ish) church in my hometown, but I don't know that I can say my heart was in it. I went because I love to hear the Christmas story, I went because I like to sing Christmas carols. There is a whole lot more to faith that reading one chapter of the Bible in the month of December and singing a few songs.
Yesterday, I decided to be brave. I took a huge step. I walked into a church, sat down, sang, prayed, took communion and really, truly listened. I listened and heard a message that was exactly what I needed to hear. A message about waiting. About understanding that there is a plan and sometimes it hurts before the purpose of that plan is revealed.
I've written enough about struggling with my aunt's death, and more recently, about being confused about where I'm supposed to be. I do understand that this job that I've been at for the last 5 months is exactly where I needed to be, even if for a long time it wasn't what I wanted. I'm dreading the day that it ends (which could be next Tuesday, or the 27th, or the 31st, or the middle of February...). I just need to remember that it'll all work out and when I start to get worked up about it all I need to do is breathe. And pray. And wait. It's the waiting that's hard.
I'll be okay. The kids will be okay. And who knows what the next adventure will bring.