I'm trying so hard not to think. When I think, I feel. And when I feel, I cry. It's like something has dropped out of me. Like my chest is hollow, but still full of something. Something big and heavy. And it hurts me.
What is giong on? Last night, he was in tears wondering if being a pastor iswhat he really wants to do. He hadn't been to classesin nearly a week. Skipping because he felt overwhelmed. Like he was too far behind and wouldn't ever be able to get caught up again. He didn't wantto tell me. He'd flat out lied to me about it the other day. I knew something was wrong, and I kept asking him and asking hem, but he said it was nothing. Turns out it was something.
It's the depression again, I'm almost sure ofit. He feelsdisconnected from the churhc. Disconnected from us, his family. Disconnected from God. We haven't been worshipping together in a few months because of his internship assignment. He's had to go somewhere else every week for church. It's been hard. On all of us. Even Cheeseman wants to know why Daddy isn't going to church with us.
The breakdown came last night. He told me right before we left for Holy Grounds. Said he hasn't been going to classes all week. He wonders if this is really what he is supposed to be doing. Wonders if maybe he should not do the MDiv for ordination. That's fine. As long as he finishes the semester. We've put so much into this. He was going to talk to his professors about getting caught up. He was going to talk to Pastor Kevin about his calling.
Instead, our DS (the local head pastor guy) calls this morning offerring a student pastorship of a church about an hour from our house. It comes with a parsonage. Hubs has an hour to decide. He calls me, and my first instinct is to say no. It's too far, I can't commute that far every morning at 6:30 to be at work on time. Hubs tells him it is just not feasible right now. I can't commute, can't quit my job, it's not gonna happen.
So the DS calls back later in the day and offers him a student pastorship of a church which (I think) is even farther away. In some town I've never even heard of, and I've lived in this area for 16 years now. He'll have to do services on Sundays, and be available Saturdays and for funerals and stuff. I told him to do whatever he wanted.
What a mistake.
He said yes.
Now, I have to leave my home church. My friends. My singing. The kids Sunday school classes and friends. And it makes me want to die inside.
I know that as a pastor's wife, this is my life. Every few years, some DS is going to call us up and say it's time to move on. But you're never really ready for it. And I thought I had a couple more years until it was time. That I could mentally prepare. Extract myself from stuff so it wouldn't be so bad.
Who was I kidding? I don't want to ever leave our church. That is our family! And I know, consciously that God is everywhere, and we will meet perfectly nice people somewhere else, maybe in that new church, but it doesn't make the hurt stop.
It would be different if we were picking up and leaving. Really moving. Then we wouldn't have to still see people. Still drive past the church. Still feel the emptiness. We could make a clean break. I didn't do so well with this the last time, when we went to that church in Camden. I still wanted to be with my old friends. And being with them made the not being there hurt that much worse.
What am I going to do?