Church and Loss

When a place that used to feel like home, felt empty.

“Are you still going to that church?” a friend recently asked me when talking about our Christmas Eve plans. The flat answer was no. Then I remembered it’s been a year since we attended our church. Last Christmas was the last time I stepped foot in any church, in fact. I felt a mixture of grief, guilt, and resignation over that realization. The most confusing aspect is that I didn’t want to go to church then, and most Sundays have come and gone and went with little acknowledgement.

As a child, church was the focal part of our life. I’d call the churches my family had attended “fire and brimstone lite”. I remember being as young as three or four years old fearing the pits of fiery hell that were taught to us. There have been several posts I’ve written alluding to this. Looking back, I know now there was definitely some religious trauma I had experienced.

So, what has kept me from returning to church?

At one time, I was very active in our previous church, and I was on several committees. My husband, Mike, was on several committees as well, he was a Deacon and volunteered on several mission trips. He also created and organized a nature hiking group. Our son was also very active in the youth program and enjoyed being there most Sunday’s.

We discovered our church in 2010. We had just moved back to the area where Mike and I grew up. We wanted to find a church after so many years of avoiding because of both of our church experiences. However, with the birth of our son we felt the need to find a place to help provide a positive example of faith-based values. This particular church felt like family, and we found a second home and a community. The year before, I had lost my mother suddenly and also was grieving several other losses and was grateful for our new church family.

Our son was only three at the time and we were thankful we found a church our son could grow up in. We were so happy to see how comfortable he was there. He could be himself! There was no talk about fire and brimstone, no guilt, no devil talk, just kindness and God’s true love. Acceptance. It was far from my own church experience as a child.

In the summer of 2016, I started a pet sitting business and I started working most Sunday’s. I tried to make it to church as often as I could as I was teaching Sunday school, and we went as a family. During this time, I was also involved in the hiring process of a new youth pastor.

Tragically, our youth pastor passed away in 2019, and it was heart wrenching to say the least. There was so much I missed in those early days of our youth pastor’s death, like a meeting for the parents because of running my business. It was June and my pet sitting business was in full swing. I was exhausted from working around the clock then as well.

I realize now I didn’t grieve or process his loss until recently. Part of me feels like a failure for not seeing the signs. Would he be alive today if we did not hire him? Maybe? Maybe not. None of us saw it though. Mental illness can be invisible sometimes. Still, it stings that I was part of the hiring process, and I feel a deep shame.

Early the next year the pandemic hit. When the doors re-opened again our co-pastors announced they would retire in a few months. They were a rock for so many of us, it was a huge loss, but we were happy for them.

It is now FOUR years later

It has been close to four years and still no new pastor. That floors me. I’m sorry, not sorry.

I attended church twice during the summer of 2023 and felt a profound loneliness and grief.

My husband was cycling most Sundays, and our son was either with friends, or helping out with childcare at church. I sat alone, surrounded by people in a place that used to feel like home. I looked at the empty pews in front of me where my other mom friends sat and felt deep grief. Everything was changing and this did not feel like home anymore to me.

The next time I went to our church was next summer with our son. We were planning on staying for the festival after church. As I looked around at tables of people and realized that I felt I didn’t belong there anymore. I noticed our son was standing off to the side. He is normally very extraverted and outgoing, and I think he felt it too. There were also no children his age or the mom friends I used to talk to. I took one look at him and asked if he was ready to go. He said yes, and quickly and quietly, we left. I knew at that point it was over.

Last Christmas

That brings us to last Christmas. As I sat with my family in back of the church, I felt overwhelming grief. I felt invisible as I walked down the halls and tried to make eye contact and say hello. Then there was the guilt I felt for not being at church for so long and not volunteering.

During that time, I was dealing with my own demons, and now too much time had passed. I had tears in my eyes and I grieved the years it had felt like a family there. I know some of it was me, but not all. I am an introvert that sometimes struggles with anxiety and fear of rejection. It’s a paradox since I enjoy social interactions with people once I get past that. Still, it creates an additional challenge. That Christmas Eve, I felt lonely and disconnected with those around me. Grief continued to dig it’s claws in. I also had to ask myself why those feelings were so strong.

Sometimes you have to realize if it’s time to stay or maybe it’s time to move on. Maybe my time there is done. I think it is, yet I feel connected and can’t truly let go. We can have that with friendships, jobs and also churches. It doesn’t mean there isn’t grief. I also don’t have to let go completely, not to all of it. We still have connections to several people there and they have been a blessing. That is what I have to remember.

What’s next?

Now what? I don’t know. We don’t know. There is a loss I feel and I’m not sure where to go with it next. This is a quiet season for myself now, and I wonder if it will ever end. There is a time I will venture out again, maybe. For now, this little cocoon feels comfortable, but it is starting to feel very small though.