Sometimes a Lie
I enter the church, sit on the pew and wrestle my kids for an hour.
If I'm lucky, I can sing a hymn uninterrupted.
That doesn't happen all that often.
I walk little man to primary.
I stand at the back because he constantly stares at me, afraid I'll leave.
Sister Stewart asks me how I'm doing.
I tell her I'm good, which is sometimes a lie.
Maybe more times than not.
I meander over to Sunday School.
Sister Johansen greets me with the warmest spirit you could ever imagine.
She asks me how I'm doing, and genuinely wants to know.
But I tell her I'm good, which is sometimes a lie.
I need to be better about that, but I really don't know how.
I quickly walk to Relief Society to get seated first.
I want to avoid the awkwardness of looking for a seat among perceived cliques.
Then, when people sit next to me, it's because they want to, not because they have to.
They, too, ask me how I'm doing.
I tell them I'm good, which is sometimes a lie.
Sometimes I feel lonely at church.
Even among the hustle and bustle of leaders, neighbors and friends.
Sometimes I wish people could see me.
I wish that I felt safe to share me.
The real me.
I'm active in church and in my callings.
I look outside myself for opportunities to serve.
I have faith.
I have hope.
I know God.
I know He knows me.
Yet, still... I struggle.
If I'm lucky, I can sing a hymn uninterrupted.
That doesn't happen all that often.
I walk little man to primary.
I stand at the back because he constantly stares at me, afraid I'll leave.
Sister Stewart asks me how I'm doing.
I tell her I'm good, which is sometimes a lie.
Maybe more times than not.
I meander over to Sunday School.
Sister Johansen greets me with the warmest spirit you could ever imagine.
She asks me how I'm doing, and genuinely wants to know.
But I tell her I'm good, which is sometimes a lie.
I need to be better about that, but I really don't know how.
I quickly walk to Relief Society to get seated first.
I want to avoid the awkwardness of looking for a seat among perceived cliques.
Then, when people sit next to me, it's because they want to, not because they have to.
They, too, ask me how I'm doing.
I tell them I'm good, which is sometimes a lie.
Sometimes I feel lonely at church.
Even among the hustle and bustle of leaders, neighbors and friends.
Sometimes I wish people could see me.
I wish that I felt safe to share me.
The real me.
I'm active in church and in my callings.
I look outside myself for opportunities to serve.
I have faith.
I have hope.
I know God.
I know He knows me.
Yet, still... I struggle.
Oh boy do I know this lie. You put on the 'Church Face' and pass by the opportunity to have someone bear your burden with you. Maybe it's ok, it's place on the Atonement, but still, it is lonely at times.
ReplyDeleteSo, be honest! Today was a really, really rough day. so, when people asked me how I'm doing I say "I'm okay or alright." Then, if they really care, they'll ask more. If not, well, I'm glad I didn't waste my time. :) We need to get past this idea of being perfect, "Church face," and be honest! :) I love you, Sidreis! Keep your chin up!
ReplyDeleteI hate how this always erases my comments. Bummer. Not typing out all again. Love you.
ReplyDeleteI hate how this always erases my comments. Bummer. Not typing out all again. Love you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the beautiful sharing. It was perfectly spoken on how we can be alone in a crowd. You absolutely inspire me!
ReplyDelete