Tired and empty places.

As I was driving back from Westminster and Mt. Gilead seeing Katie, and the Jareds, I had a sudden rush of sentiment for certain areas of my life that I passed by. I had the urge to listen to my worship music in the parking lot of my old church and watch the sun on the horizon. I guess I just wanted to relive some old chapters. But alas, as I drove past, I viewed a few men waving their hands to me and I hesitated and did not turn into the parking lot. Mind you I was driving about 50 miles per hour at the time so it did not necessarily look awkward.
I did not turn in because I wanted solace and the presence of the men in the parking lot regardless of whether I knew them or not, made me change my mind.
My old church I believe abandoned me. When I was crying out for an authentic community of united believers, everyone scattered. No one said anything and no one seemed to truly show that their faith was their own. When I was struggling, people did not come alongside me to walk with me in my struggles. It turns out I was right about a lot of things. Pastoral changes, church members including my family left and never came back. The congregation has since dwindled to maybe a handful of people.

My second foray into my past came as I was passing my old high school. Here I actually stopped. I decided that the novelty of the worship music i had had run its course and it was time to get rid of it. I had this strange rationalization that maybe if I left it somewhere public, like a school, it could be picked up by someone and hopefully incite some inspiration.
As I walked to the old choir room that I used to attend, I noticed pictures on the bulletin board outside of it. Pictures all from the 2008 graduating class as opposed to my class of 2007. I felt a slight bit of discontent for the recognition of that particular group without a visual mention of ours. My senior choir got the top award in our regional competition. 3 years of dedication to the program and there is nothing to show for it.

I regret both of these slight incidents.

These are all vague descriptions and all the details are left unsaid. I do not know why but I guess what I mean to say is that these chapters of my life: High school, my old church, they are over and will remain that way.

This is why I love Simpson, because it is truly the first place where I have felt like I belong, and I am sure I will miss it when I leave.

"You've had your chance so say goodbye, say goodbye"