I'm learning how to change the story mid-chapter. Without warning, without signs, and without mercy, the story changes, and I am flipped upside down and backward, expected to land on my feet while holding fire in my bare hands and smile the whole way through. At least, that's how it feels. It's more like an elephant is kicking me around on the floor as a plaything. I don't necessarily want this to be the lesson I am learning, but it is, and God is doing work through it, and in me.
A lot has happened in my life, and I have always felt only quick seconds to be able to process before life and the people in it are pulling me along to the next thing. That isn't healthy at all, and over the last few years, I have compartmentalized feelings that should have been dealt with more seriously. It affects who I am, what I believe and how I act. So instead of just sitting in them, throwing them away (which is not real) or trying to forget, I am gonna sit down and think through them a little longer than 3 seconds. So here it is, my uncut, unedited, might offend you so don't take it personally thoughts on the past few years, and how they relate to my journey now.
I had my life pictured after the great people in it. My family, my pastor, his wife, my best friend, the only boy I have ever really liked, so on and so forth. They were inspiring people, and I didn't think twice about taking on some of their practices as my own. I could see where they would lead me emotionally and spiritually. One by one, however, most of those people kind of left.
When my pastor and his whole family were unexpectedly uprooted from church and moved across the country, it was hard for us longtime New Life teens to hear. It was hard on everyone, but there was this group, and it hit really hard for us. I heard students say they were honestly excited about a new pastor coming in because they did not feel included in the church. I didn't feel that way at all. I was getting my hands dirty in the ministry and missions of it all, and I loved it. I can see gaps where my faith was off, but I was just young, immature, naive, and no one was telling me different. I was involved in everything, and that's exactly how I wanted it to be. I wanted to feel included, so I included myself. I wanted to feel important, so I hung around the important people. I wanted to see God move and heal, so I threw myself into every moment where I could see it all. I wanted the stories I heard the be the things I witnessed. I was just beginning the journey of defining my faith, asking the tough questions, deciding whether Christianity was for me, if I was doing it all for God or for show, when my pastor was asked to leave the church. I cried as soon as I heard the news. I was overcome with sadness. I felt like my faith was being ripped from my chest. I had never grieved the way I grieved when they did leave. It wasn't just 1 person. A whole department + some left in like a month, changing the whole dynamic of our church, of the youth, of my friend group, of me. Everything changed, and everyone knew it. Let me just say this, speaking for some of those long-time New Life students...it's still not the same...I'm not the same.
I question things a lot more, have more doubts, am more skeptical, don't trust as easily, feel unsteady more often, and feel alone more times than not. Little did I know this was one of several transitions that changed me, and, honestly, were straight up traumatizing. Losing someone you love and admire is never easy. My mom says it's like a divorce, and that sounds about right. We were the kids, helpless and without a voice, but plenty of emotions and scattered thoughts. Expected to go along with whatever might happen next. I still have questions. Still have hurt feelings, a bruised heart. I am still sad when I think about it. That's my honesty. It's not my ending, though. I am in the middle of my story, with God as the writer. Sometimes I take the pen and feel so down to write it myself. When I do I screw it all up, cringe, and slowly hand the pen back to God, who is smiling and laughing and saying "yes Victoria, I still love you." He knew this moment of change was coming. He saw it and was ready to listen and comfort me every step of the way. He remained with me. Every moment.
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