Announcements

            I used to cry during announcements, but that was years ago when I was struggling through the loneliness of single parenting.  There was something about the peaceful sanctuary and one-hour haven of worship that allowed free flow of tears.  Sometimes the tears started with the announcements; sometimes they waited until a hymn or the sermon.

            Those were the days when my grim answer to the foyer pleasantries—“How are you, today, Janis?”—left the inquirers nonplussed and ready to quickly move on.  “Surviving,” I would truthfully say, wishing that sometime someone would stop that second and really listen.   One did.  Her name was Jan Faidley.  That first day, her husband Don stood aside, aghast at her intense stream of personal questions.  None of them felt intrusive to me:  I was thrilled that someone wanted to know the details of my daily existence.  She became a treasured friend.

            A silent desperation overtook me occasionally.  Once, maybe twice a year, I called in sick to work, completely unable to face anyone or anything.  A day at home while my children were at school gave me space to cry, call a friend, write in my journal, sleep.  It was lonelier than hell, but at least I had a brief respite from responsibilities and the chance to collect myself.

            I remember clinging to the Psalms, which expressed my own inner turmoil so well.  I remember sometimes wishing I could escape in drugs or drinking, but there were my children and church and small-town reputation to think of.  So I got lost in books instead:  hours on the couch devouring novels, entering an alternate reality for a break from my own.  The best part about books was that I could make my escape while the kids were home.  Reading was much more desirable than doing housework, and it maintained my sanity.

            It is untrue to paint a totally bleak picture, for there were many good things and many blessings in my life.  My children.  A secure job I enjoyed most of the time.  Help from family and friends far away and support of a few friends close by.  A church I loved.

            That same Jan Faidley predicted an unlikely future for me.  One day as we visited in her home, she told me that God had spoken to her heart, telling her that He had a plan for a big blessing in my life, a future I could not begin to imagine.  Naturally, she had no details, but knowing that she regularly prayed for me and my kids and had such confidence that He desired to bring joy to my life meant a great deal.

            So the last Sunday of 2012 I find myself making announcements and leading worship at Whidbey Presbyterian Church.  Joy surges through my soul as I look out at the congregation that has proven to be such a big part of God’s blessing.  My move to Whidbey Island, intended to help my mother and brother while removing me far away from a second failed marriage, has turned out to be the blessing God promised:  music and writing and ministry and friends in a beautiful place.  Someday, when Jan and I are reunited in heaven (she died in 2002), I’ll be able to tell her that I stopped crying during the announcements.