Painting the Background

I woke in the middle of the night with the thought, “You need to let go of your church.”  Instant anxiety! I knew I would not be going back to sleep for a while.  So I headed into the studio.  I needed to do something—anything really.

 I painted green on a canvas covered in book pages that at some point I had painted the edges pink.  I have no vision where it is headed.  I set it aside to pick up a couple of stars I had painted “Be the star of your own life!” Although I like the idea, I don’t like how it looks.  The letters are too big and awkward. So I pour out some yellow, orange, and red paint.  The paint didn’t begin to cover the lettering.  So the other one I went after with sandpaper and then an alcohol wipe.  That worked much better.  I painted it.  When I moved the tray the stars had been resting on I uncovered a canvas I had started a while back.  I remembered my vision.  I used some of the green paint left over from the first canvas to add some high lights to the background.  Thinking about what the face would look like with hair, I got out some brown paint and started.  I then realized I should have painted the Gesso’d face with a flesh tone before I started painting hair.  I dumped a flesh tone next to all the other colors.  One swipe of the brush told me I wasn’t going to be happy.  The flesh color was too pale and too red.  I dipped my brush in the brown and mixed some in.  I tried it on the face.  Better but still not what I wanted so I added more brown.  It took seconds to add color to the face.  I could not add hair until the flesh dried.  So I pulled out a couple of small canvases.  I used the colors from the stars to paint background.  I found myself totally enjoying the process of the colors combining to make new shades and tones.  I have no idea where I am headed with those two canvases.

While I messed in the paint, I calmed down.  Memories played like a well loved movie in my head.  The first time I went to the church, my baptism, the decision to go to seminary, my first time coming home again, my ordination, the first time I brought Maddie, Maddie’s baptism and the list goes on.  So much of my life was lived with this community of people.  I could not have survived all the events of my life without the love and support of this amazing group of people.  I especially could not have endured the last two years of Maddie’s life, her death, and the dark grief filled days that followed without them. 

I have jumped in and out for the last 3 or 4 years.  Although I am not a particularly angry person, I leave worship feeling sad, angry and frustrated.  What happened to those moments of clarity that used to pop up from time to time?  What happened to those words which touched my heart to reaffirm my faith and the words which stayed with me for days?  What happened to those spiritual experiences that I had no words to explain?  It’s gone.  Many of my friends are gone too, now.  Worship has become yet another source of grief for me.  I actually hate it.  I have become quite proficient at finding excuses to stay away to offset the guilt I feel.

Then something will happen and I jump back in for a time.  It happened again this week.  Last Sunday the congregation voted to sell the building with a plan in place that I didn’t know was in place until after the vote.  I think it is a crazy route to take and is a good  way to avoid focusing on the real issues.  But I also believe in the process.  Then a conflict arose that didn’t need to be added to already conflict ridden situation.  And what do I do?  I jumped into rescue…who or what I am not sure.  But by God I was going to fix it!  I addressed the problem with both parties and made sure a plan was in place hoping no further damage would be done. 

When the problem first presented its self, on facebook, of all places, I was angry at the person who started it.  I felt that mother’s need to protect.  I felt more committed to the church.  When the immediacy of the situation passed, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.  I could not work on art.  I focused or at least tried to focus on writing.  I ended up watching more murder and mayhem then I did writing.  I felt – bad.  I should not have jumped in.  It is not a healthy thing for me to do.  I’m sure it is annoying to the people involved who both think their behavior is justified. 

The congregation needs people who are committed and believe in where they are headed.  They need people who have energy and can make a financial contribution.  They need people who are empowered and find joy in what is happening.

I’m not one of those people.  I spent the last two years of Maddie’s life going from medical problem to medical problem and watching the person I love most in the world suffer more than any person should have to.  I tried to do everything I could to make the way easier but so much of it was out of my control that all I could do was stand there beside her.  It took a huge toll on me.  Selfishly, I am not willing to do the same thing for the church right now.  That is what is happening. The congregation is going from one crisis to another.  Everyone’s need for control is in overdrive.  No one can see past their own hurt and grief to find understanding and compassion for anyone else.

As painful as it is, I think I need to step away permanently.  But it is painful if I stay, too.  I long to be fed spiritually and I need to take responsibility for that myself.  I’m scared.  I feel alone.  I don’t have a vision.  I don’t know the way.

 But then maybe I do.  I’ve been doing it with art for years.  I pick a few colors and paint the background without expectation or stress.  I enjoy the process of watching the colors come together.   When the time is right an idea will come.  If it turns out to be something I don’t particularly like, I add another layer of paint, sand something away, or add some texture.  I am going to learn to do that spiritually.  And for this moment, I need to let go.  I am stepping out of this church for the last time and I am stepping into my own spirit.