After agonizing for what seems like ages, hubby surprised me last Friday and told me he had talked to pastor and told him we were moving on. The news was shocking. I was beginning to think he wouldn't budge on the subject and we'd be stuck in a sort of freeze frame forever. Unable to move on, unable to go back. So often the whole ordeal seemed hopeless.
We spent the weekend feeling light, but uncertain. We wanted to grin from ear to ear, but still were slightly trepidacious. We spent the weekend with old friends, a comforting place to a certain extent. Yet, melancholy surrounded us. We've always known we can't go back home. Home isn't home anymore.
It's as if we had jumped out of a plane. Just enjoying the wind carrying us along, but secretly wondering if the chute would open.
We returned back home completely expecting to face the consequences of that little talk. Parishoner calls. Concerned, confused and likely truly upset family members. But eerily, all was quiet.
So on we walked, attending service at the church we've decided to spend this interim time at. Talking to the pastor who had counseled us at times during all of it. Slowly moving toward our new church home, and new life.
Ever hear of those people that don't take no for an answer? Yeah, so last night we find out that pastor let bishop know the news. Bishop put the brakes on it all. He's making a special trip here to talk to hubby and me about this decision.
Bishop is that one person in my hubby's life who can influence him. He trusts him. He respects him. So do I.
So here we are in limbo. At least for another week.
Trepidation. The short story of my life.
Pray my sisters. Pray for us.
Working it Out