It’s odd. After a cool spring tempered by frequent rain, with the dawning of June, it’s like summer woke up and turned the heat lamp on. Over Memorial weekend, it felt to me that that shift arrived, and with it, my energy stalled.

It’s been a weird transition of sorts.

For the last three and a half years, I’ve set up and tore down in the kids area at church pretty much every Sunday. For the last two and some years, every Tuesday night was dedicated to leading a small group with Tim and Daing’s support. When I learned Tim and Daing were moving to Australia, I thought I could sustain my energy and leadership, and for a few months I did.

I think in May, though, my heart left me. Tim and Daing moved in December, and suddenly I felt alone and unsupported. Going from teacher to being also group admin and coordinator, my spirit failed. In May, my heart just shut down, and I started hearing within a plea for exit. Every small group meeting became more and more stressful. Planning became more of a struggle. And inside, I felt like I was gasping for air.

So, learning that in the beginning of June our congregation was leaving Highland High School campus for a new facility the church had bought, the moment for me to exit was set. The pull in could happen. Set up and tear down would end with the move to the new building. It was a good time for the group to mix it up too, I thought.

And so in the beginning of May I mentioned to the group my need for a sabbatical. It was a small suggestion. As May moved forward, numbers started dropping. Prayer requests slowed. Communications between myself and the other members stalled. Group life faltered.

Finally, I emailed pastor Brian and Amy, the Kid’s Director on our campus, and let them know of my need to set things down. That was about a week ago. I included the small group coordinator for our campus in the email as well. A few days later, Brian wrote me back a nice note, thanking me for my service and for making him feel welcome in the church when he came. I had spent time with the small group coordinator a few times, seeking in him a mentoring relationship that we realized wasn’t really there, and I didn’t hear from him. Amy didn’t mention anything on Sunday.

The sad thing is I know I need people, I need relationships, and that I have had some pretty important ones in this community, but they all tend to develop in much the same way. They bud and bloom like a lovely flower, and then they die, petals faded and crinkled, falling to the floor.

In my quest to be a good Christian and to serve, I still feel deeply alone, and continue feeling that most every effort I put in with others is nominally valuable. I am not someone worth being close to. My thoughts and words and ideas are meaningless. My labor is appreciated for the moment, but once the church is packed up, I am filed away into the lists of workers who can be called on for next.

Why do I struggle so hard to feel love? Or for that matter to feel close to people? To feel valued and worthwhile?

And perhaps an equally frustrating question for me is, why do I need to be recognized for my efforts, or get caught up in wondering what others think of me in the first place? I know this second question is my true source of neurosis half the time- my own conviction that my words and thoughts and deeds are muted echoes in a vast and barren forest. I was alone when I was at church and serving. Now, when I claim I want to be alone to right my own life, the prospect of perpetual solitude seems like its own prison to me. It is maddening at times.

What I do know is that I need to find a new course for my life, and soon. Eager to put down my church duties to chase new aspirations, what I truly fear- and anticipate- is instead being lulled by inner pain and isolation into a deeper depression and the abdication of choosing any new opportunities for my life. That is just the problem: left alone, I choose nothing. A tendency which tends to explain much of my life.

I crave growth. I crave companionship. I crave a cause. I crave adventure. And I crave safety and sleep.

The heat has a way, now that I am older, of letting the latter two win. Left to my own, I default to doing nothing. I need to find some people I trust and strive to stay connected. I need to figure out why I am running out of gas so quickly, and get it fixed. I need to develop one or two specific disciplines. I need to work better at work, and at home, and at work. I need to not give in to the doubts and despondency that so often flood silences.

I need to learn again how to forget myself, and despite my current anxiety and discomfort, love a few people intentionally at this time.

Currently, that’s what’s up.

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Photo Credit: Tim Price