I had hoped that venting all of my anger and frustrations would prove to be therapeutic and cleansing. And in a way, it was. I was relieved to have the anger out of my system. I had also expected that once it was gone that I would quickly return to being happy. But it didn't happen that way.
Instead, I was swept over by a huge tidal wave of sadness and despair that flooded in to fill the giant empty space that had so recently housed my anger. Indeed the sadness and despair filled me up just as much as the anger had. Instead of being fueled by rage, I felt overcome by complete misery and grief. It was like a giant rain cloud of sorrow and melancholy had parked itself inside me and was drowning out my faith and hope.
And honestly, it was worse than the feelings of anger. I felt trapped inside my own sadness and sorrow with no hope of escape, almost like being trapped inside a well with no way to get out.
I was disappointed in myself that I had let the anger get the best of me. I was saddened in my own actions, that I had let the actions, or inactions, of others get to me as much as they did. But mostly I was saddened that I had prayed so hard and so earnestly with all of my heart and with all of the energies of my soul, only to not have my prayers answered.
After counseling with Bekah, I decided that it would be best to try and visit with one of the gentlemen who administrates the larger ecclesiastical unit of which our local congregation is a part. I knew that they were in their offices on Tuesday nights, so the first Tuesday night that came around, I made my way over hoping to seek help, guidance, inspiration...something...anything to help lift the heavy weight of sorrow that was weighing my heart down.
I didn't have an appointment, so I waited until they were almost done with all of their business, hoping to get in for just a few minutes near the end. As they were finishing up, someone came out and asked me how they could help me. I mentioned why I was there and that I was just hoping to speak with someone for a few minutes.
I was very politely informed that what I was doing was "out of protocol" and that "those types of appointments" are usually done by referral from the leaders of the individual congregations. And since I didn't have an appointment it was unlikely that I would get to see anyone, but that he would see what he could do.
So I waited for a few minutes, debating what to do in my head.
Realistically, considering my then lack of trust in my own congregational leader, I didn't see that getting a referral from him was even a possibility. So I considered this my one shot. I understood very well the importance of "protocol," but there are always exceptions aren't there? I didn't know. That I know of, there's no set way of dealing with "exceptions." Each group can deal with it the way that they deem best. So I had no idea what to expect.
But I was already feeling so, so low, that I didn't feel that I could take what I would consider to be a "rejection," if they told me that they couldn't meet with me, even if they meant well and were just following protocol.
So I decided to wait a few more minutes. I felt that the longer I had to wait, the less likely it was going to be that I was going to get an appointment. And as the minutes went by, the less and less hopeful I became. So I decided to start making my way back home. But I decided that I would take my time getting there. It was my way of both being hopeful yet realistic at the same time.
So I first stopped in a commons area, close enough to the offices that they could still find me if they needed to, but one step closer to the door for me. So I paced around for a couple of minutes when someone poked their head in to find me. My heart perked up a little, holding out hope that he would invite me back. But he said that he was still waiting to find out and asked me to just wait for a few more minutes.
In my heart, I wanted to wait a few more minutes. I wanted to wait however long it was necessary. But my head kept telling me that I was going to be disappointed. And I really couldn't take any more disappointment. I just couldn't get over the internal struggle I was having between hoping that someone would take a few minutes to talk with me, and the realization that they might say no.
In the end, I decided that it was better to just go home than to take the chance of suffering additional heartache and disappointment.
That decision hurt so bad that I cried all the way home.
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