Disclaimer: As I am getting ready, I am very tentative to publish this post since I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and because it’s not about anyone in particular. And it’s especially not about the leaders. it’s just that in life there are only so much you can direct and programs you can develop and ideas you can have and good intentions with good effort before it comes down to relationships. So as tentative as I am to publish this because I don’t want to hurt anyone, I also want to be real and this is Gianna–real. And this is about the real Gianna. No one else.
I have never once stated that I’m normal.
I may think that I’m normal, but I have never said I was normal. Now being logical is another story. I will beat the horse dead arguing that I am logical.
It may not be the same logic you are using, but if there is one thing I need, it is to have things make sense. And if my logic makes sense to me, it doesn’t matter if my logic is ridiculous to you. Logic, in my opinion, is a bit more subjective than say English. Logic is about how you order your world. English is about using the correct words to express what you mean.
But I digress.
And I haven’t even started yet.
I want you to keep what I have said in mind and I also what you to remember this fact.
I love our church. We have been a part of church for like 13 or 14 years since we started going in college. We got married at our church. We have been active on mission trips to Mongolia, we have been active in youth group, and I have worked in the Children’s Ministries as a leader, paid staff, and a helper.
I love our church.
When Chris and I got married (11 years ago), a new Sunday School class was formed called (at that time) The 20’s Somethings. On a side note, I bet you can’t figure out who was being targeted for this class. We were pretty excited about this class since we were in our 20’s, and we didn’t really fit with the college class anymore–being married and all even though Chris was still in college.
In the past 11 years there have been many changes to this class (and the whole church). We are now called the Crosstrainers, the percentage of Northwestern College Alums has gotten smaller, we have literally had hundreds of children (among all of us), and we have had 2 very awesome teachers; right now our teacher/friend being a Bible professor from Northwestern College.
For some reason, as much as I love our class, I have never really felt at ease. When the class breaks up before service, I am constantly looking around for someone to talk to, someone I know or someone who doesn’t have anyone talking to them. But let’s be honest, usually it’s for someone I feel comfortable with.
It’s not a great feeling. I don’t like it.
Last Sunday, Chris went fishing and I took the superstars to an All Church Picnic. Before I even got completely out the parking lot, I had offers of help.
- They took my food to the table,
- took my baby so I could get food for the older 3,
- watched over my kids while I fed my baby,
- stopped to say hi,
- engaged in real conversation with me (some started by me and some started by others),
- played with my kids in the lake,
- SAVED Wordgirl from drowning when I didn’t know she had jumped in over her head,
- invited Princess Pea to play with them by letting her approach them on her own without forcing her to answer questions she didn’t want to answer,
- chased after Dash on the dock since he trotted himself right into the middle and they were closer to him than I was,
- took my baby again,
- fought over my baby,
- got spit up on,
- teased me,
- helped me to get everything put together again when it was time to go,
- walked me with the superstars back to the van,
- encouraged me,
- and made sure we were settled before they left.
I have been feeling like my family doesn’t have a place in the church.
Until last Sunday at the picnic.
I (finally) realized that Chris and I just don’t fit in with the Cross Trainers. I love EACH one of them individually. I can talk to pretty much anyone in my class….when we aren’t in class. We justv don’t fit in with our class.
And you know what? That’s okay.
It’s not the Crosstrainers. It’s me!
You wouldn’t believe what a relief this is.