Monday 28th July
A couple of weeks ago, I didn’t go to church.
There are some very wonderful people at church and most have really good intentions but they’re not always wise. A couple of weeks ago I told someone that we’d received a wheelchair on loan from the NHS, which had been a massive blessing as it meant that we could take my mum out on trips to town and to the park a lot easier. I was glad this week to have positive news to share, and so shared the news with a beaming smile on my face. He replied “Yes, well I s’pose it’s all downhill from here.” The smile dropped from my face; as I tried to walk away, he followed trying to press in to how I was really feeling, unable to accept that this week, I was genuinely happy.
The following week, same guy, similar situation. He is a very kind man, and will listen avidly to me. He feels that it is his duty to support me with any issues or difficulties I may be facing. However, I have a very close knit network of support that I can draw upon and discuss my struggles and fears with, and have no problem in calling friends when I need support. I do not have a close enough relationship with him to feel comfortable discussing my struggles and fears in detail.
Last week my mum became quite unwell, and I spent a lot of time sitting with her. At the last minute, a friend popped in, and offered to stay with my mum for an hour so that I could go to church. I totally trusted my friend to care for my mum but the thought of going to church and face well-meaning but invasive questions worried me (“You must feel a great deal of responsibility, you being the only Christian in your family and your mum about to die, how does that feel?”). I wouldn’t mind the questions but when I give the answer that I’m comfortable giving, people dig deeper. I walk away but they follow with relentless questions, and it makes me want to cry.