Everything is falling into place with an amazing amount of precision. Tirithien has been accepted to his Master’s degree program, and I’m approved for a student loan that not only will pay for the cost of an accredited course in medical transcription, but will provide me with extra money for living expenses for awhile. The job outlook is excellent. We’ve found an apartment we love (at least on the outside) and we’re going to make an appointment to see the inside and the apartment facilities sometime this week.
Basically, I’m clear to move to Ohio as soon as we have a place to go.
But this means I had to tell my friends from church that I would be leaving them soon.
And that was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.
Given all my questions of faith, I thought it would be an easy enough thing to do. Well enough for me to take some time away from organized religion to sort things out on my own for awhile! But faith in the abstract is a very different thing from church friends in the concrete.
See, Grace Church is a tiny one. We had five people show up to sing for the choir on the last Sunday choir met before summer break, and the rest of the church is sized proportionately. So everyone is extremely close.
I told my choir friends first that day. It seemed okay enough. I explained how all my prospects were better just a little further south, and I would still be able to visit frequently, and all. But these ladies have been my “aunties” for going on three years now. They love me and I love them. We all got through the service okay, until the end.
There’s a little bit of a song of thanks we sing after every Communion, while the priest is straightening up all the altar tools and getting ready for the final blessing. For some reason this song carries all the weight of the emotions of the whole church—the last service by our old priest, many of us were crying too much to get through it. So during this song, I had the sudden thought of, “I won’t be wearing this choir robe again.” And then I happened to look to my left, to my friend Sharon, who apparently had a similar thought at the same time, and we both started to cry.
I hadn’t been expecting this. And then as I was leaving the sanctuary after service, the priest noticed my red eyes and asked what was wrong. And that set me off again.
I know I’m going on to wonderful things, but the process of cutting the ties so I can actually go is more painful than I’d expected.