Sunday Thoughts

Sunday for my family is always the start of the week not the end of the week.

I guess it comes from years of working at Target and my schedule always began on Sunday.

So I have always felt my week started by attending church with my family as a beginning to the week. For me it’s a perfect place to start the week and work through what the past week was like for me.

Growing up I attended three different churches as my parents found themselves as many do challenged by church leadership. I was young and I didn’t really know any different.

However my parents were often in charge of communion on Sunday as they participated in different worship committees.

When I was young I remember lots of Sunday mornings filling the trays with let’s be frank…nasty crackers or wafers and filling the little cups with a magic squeeze bottle that did the perfect amount of juice.

It felt special doing those things. While I didn’t really understand communion at that point I knew it was important. That church allowed children to partake.

Now that I think about it all three churches did.

But clearly as a child, it was a snack. I remember helping my parents after church pick up the unused filled cups and the wafer trays to discard them after service.

Now this was the real snack…we got to drink all the juice from the cups. I remember one time we were asked why not the wafers. I remember making a face. Apparently one that didn’t show much respect for the “bread and cup.”

I remember being told that I was disrespecting the elements. Again, as a child I didn’t know much about communion. But I can certainly say that felt like my first real interaction with a church leader making me feel hurt in a church.

As my parents continued to try to find the right church for both them and me there was a point I distinctly remember.

It was source of anxiety. At least I now know that was definitely the issue and the feelings I was feeling. I had really no concept of anxiety or knew at the time it had a name. I didn’t even know how to convey it to my parents.

My parents decided to church shop, but still had one foot in the church we belonged to with commitments like choir and worship. My mom ventured out to find a new church.

I don’t remember how she found the next church, but I knew it was close to the first home we had in a different city.

The source of anxiety…choosing which parent to go with to what church.

As an only child there is only me. So I felt bad if I didn’t go with one parent over the other. It was my internal tally. So I had come up with a likely system…one Sunday with mom and one with dad.

It worked for awhile until I actually started to learn more at the church my mom was attending. I remember loving the Sunday school teacher and not feeling like I would do “wrong” there.

See that one moment at the other church over disrespecting the elements gave me a “blue marble” in my core memory referring to the movie “Inside Out.” Love that movie and it speaks volumes to how we behave with memories.

The more that blue marble reminded me of the sad feeling I felt, the more I was encouraged to go with my mom to the other church where I had not had any encounters with people in that way.

But there was definite anxiety when I went with my dad to church. Social anxiety was real and I remember finding ways to not be around the leader.

Eventually my dad started to attend the church my mom found a few times.

I’m not sure what was the final straw at the other church, but it happened and we found ourselves becoming members at the new place.

One of the things I remember my parents saying is they always wanted find a church where I would be happy and learn about God.

I would say that church made me feel safe and I never had an interaction that would make me feel not enough.

I don’t really remember how many years we attended there but it was probably less than five years.

But I remember the day it happened. It wasn’t because of hurt from the church it was because the pastor and his family were moving across the states.

My mom was devastated. I think this place had really made her feel welcomed and have hope for a future.

I think we stayed around a couple more Sundays as we wanted to give the new pastor a shot but it just wasn’t the same.

Lots of people left. That church really had a good thing going for them. Children’s ministry was thriving and congregation for a small church was filled to capacity.

I pass by the church daily on my way to or from work. I think about it often and now it’s changed hands multiple times. It’s still a church.

For a few months I remember not going to church. It felt weird to be home on a Sunday. No communion to prepare or Sunday School to attend. I missed it. I felt safe there. I felt like I connected and more importantly I was being taught by people who clearly loved God and people.

One day my friend had invited me to something called 3–4–5 Club at a church she attend. It was for grades 3–5th and it included dinner, programming and music. It was so much fun that I started going weekly with her.

My parents were curious and decided one Sunday to check it out not too long after I got to the 6th grade.

We eventually found ourselves becoming members, attending youth group and growing up in the church. I was around 11 when that happened.

I have life long friends from that church. It was my home church. It was the church I stayed the longest at and eventually found my husband there in youth group. I got married in that church and my daughter was baptized in that church.

Though my family has moved to a new church, my parents still attend the church. The love being part of it and I am so happy they found a home church.

But there was a connection…to communion…my husband’s family and brothers were in charge of communion set up and after for years. I was fascinated at the relationship communion had through my church life. Every Sunday that there was communion, you could find the boys and their dad preparing the elements for service.

Something that I never really understood now became something I had in common. My parents were in charge of it at the old church we had attended. There was something about each family being involved with the set up of communion that intrigued me.

The communion elements have always been part of my church life and spiritual life. My husband and I even had communion in our wedding which wasn’t necessarily traditional in the church.

One key part of communion for me is every time I have taken communion I have felt anxiety disappear and the reminder of the elements being the body and blood of Christ gives me so much peace.

I continued to be hurt by the church leaders and members through out the years of bouncing around to churches. Some because of my own misunderstandings and others were true hurt by words or actions.

The healing that has taken place is a work in progress. I am still very guarded and don’t get too close because I fear being hurt by another leader in the church or a member.

I enjoy going to church. I don’t want to be hurt by the church.

I remind myself that people are people. Hurt people definitely can hurt people. I’m mindful of the hurt I have experienced and try my best to not allow my actions to hurt others.

Walking through anxiety from church hurt had an impact on my life.

I grew up understanding church was a safe place. A home for God’s people. Never did I think that I would experience hurt in a safe place.

I struggle with social anxiety allowing people too close to my heart and thoughts because I have been hurt and manipulated to believed things that were not true.

Two Sundays ago, I took communion. For some reason that day I took a photo (the one above) with the elements. But in particular I wanted to show my lava bracelet.

I have been leaning on my lava bracelet with essential oils on it to give me the peace I so deeply wanted to feel from God with my anxiety lately.

In the lava bracelet was a rainbow of beads. I began to think about the promises of God.

The leader that morning had said something so important… Am I following God or am I making God follow me?

I was struck by the words. The last couple months I have been requesting God to follow me and not be follow him. I have resisted the call from him determined to do it my way and that I would make things happen if he would just let me do other things first.

There it was, anxiety. My lava bracelet is used with my essential oils, mainly lavender to help me calm myself. I had placed my faith and trust in my bracelet to make me feel better instead of focusing on God.

A few days later, my bracelet broke right in the middle and the beads scattered everywhere.

My first thought was the scene in “Inside Out” where all the marbles scatter. Here’s my marbles scattered everywhere and needing to be put back in place. My second thought was ‘now what am I going to do without my trusty bracelet to help me through an anxiety attack?’

I opened up my phone and looked at the photo of the elements next to my bracelet.

It made so much sense to me, at least to me.

The broken bracelet…my broken and somewhat distance relationship with God because he has asked me to do something uncomfortable and hard. And my two-year-old self throwing a temper tantrum saying I don’t want to.

The elements…something that has always brought me peace, reminders of God’s promises and importance of him in my life.

Living with anxiety brings daily reminders of all the things good and bad. It’s a constant battle to try and work through things.

It’s days where we constantly have to make choices of how we will go about our day. Struggle through the choices and hope that we can get through it.

I think about many things on Sundays after church, communion just so happened to be recently and all these memories floated to the top.