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May 24, 2009

So I went to church on Saturday evening. No big deal, I’ve been going fairly regularly in the last several months. I find it comforting. Our priest is very good and quite inspiring to listen to. I go because I want to, not because I feel I should, and that, in my mind, is the only reason one should go to church.

My sister is much more involved in our parish than I am, and she had let our priest know that I was in hospital recently. During the sermon, he happened to glance in my direction and we made eye contact, or so it seemed. When it came time for communion, he was the one offering it at the end of the aisle where we were sitting.

As I walked up and it was my turn, he looked at me and said, “Welcome home.”

Well, I just about lost it. It took everything I had to not start sobbing. And I can’t quite understand why.

I know I’ve been through a lot in the last few weeks. And from where I sat only two weeks ago, there was nothing more I could have hoped for but to be back in church on a Saturday evening, or anything else routine for that matter.

But those words, “welcome home”, they seemed to mean so much more, more than he intended. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he knew exactly what he was saying, on every level.

I clearly have bags and bags of bottled up emotion about all of this. Some of it I can’t explain to you. There were a few events, one in particular, that still haunt me. And all that emotion is just sitting there right under the surface, waiting to flood out without warning.

After dinner I went for a walk with Kelly to the marina. I am feeling well enough that I can easily forget the few hurdles that I still need to get over. When I am with her, everything else is ok, I am fine. We had a great time together. But after we parted I went for a long walk alone. I’m still trying to sort through a lot of this in my head.

Just before dark, I found myself back at our church. It’s only blocks from my house, and it has a nice peaceful garden with a fountain in the front yard. As I wandered the garden, I noticed movement inside the house attached to the church. I stayed in the garden a while longer. I think I was hoping someone would come out, someone who might be able to help me sort through all of this.  Maybe help me understand why I am feeling the way I am, and how to accept it or move forward from it.  Nobody came. I left disappointed, relieved, and confused, arriving home in the dark.

6 Comments leave one →
  1. May 24, 2009 9:40 pm


    I think it is just good to realize what is there in this for you. Just to be present with it. More will come I’m sure when you’re ready to deal with it. It sounds like you’re opening something fragile and deep and special. In time I’m sure you’ll know all what it means. Thank you for sharing this, O

  2. May 24, 2009 10:35 pm

    Is it too obvious to suggest you request a meeting with the priest you connected with? It might be helpful.

    If you have a moment and want to respond to a meme, I tagged you on my blog.
    It’s at the end of the post for Monday (but it’s up now if you see this.)


  3. Kate permalink
    May 26, 2009 4:00 pm

    Sylvain: Thank you for your very moving post. It’s very brave of you to acknowledge how you’re feeling and seek to work through it. Wishing you well,

  4. Jacqui permalink
    May 27, 2009 9:56 pm

    Expecting or Reading into a moment or event is scriptically foolish. Real life is not a movie.

  5. healthykitty permalink
    May 28, 2009 9:45 pm

    Sometimes when we look for answers outside of ourselves, we are reminded that we can only find them by looking within.

  6. June 2, 2009 10:07 pm

    Syl, I heartily encourage you to let some of that ocean of emotion out. What my wife does, and she is the best at this of anyone I know, is to go into the living room and put a particular CD on which has always made her feel sad.

    Then, she lies down on the couch and cries and cries and cries.

    The beauty of an intentional meltdown such as she engineers is that she can pick the time and place. Not only that, the tears are very much therapeutic. She feels better for havng cried. Sometimes, she is not even sure where the tears are welling up from! Still, the crying of them offers relief.

    This isn’t a means of dealing with the issues which are behind the emotions. It is, though, a great way to feel more prepared to deal with the issues. By some of the intensity having been drained–literally, drained–you can face the issues with a greater sense of clarity.

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