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Writer's pictureMonica Cherry

Thanksgiving

 

Even though I haven’t been sharing much, I have still been writing. Imposter syndrome is fun. Every time I feel inspired to share something it ends up being something we discuss Sunday morning in our Sunday class or in the sermon. I decide I can’t add anything to it or say it any better than was already said and I convince myself that you don’t need to hear my voice or thoughts on the matter. Maybe what I should be thinking instead is that if we are talking about it in church then it’s a very relevant topic to what people are dealing with right now? 


Secondly there is the fact that everything I’ve been dealing with lately is just hard and personal and something I’m not comfortable broadcasting to the world for various reasons. 


As we enter a season of “thanksgiving” I felt compelled once again to share something I’m very thankful for. I hoped to fill this space with topics of encouragement to those walking through similar things as me as I use what I’ve written to process things I deal with and heal from hurts. I’m not sure this post is really going to provide that for anyone other than it might encourage some that I’ve mentioned here to know the impact you’ve had on my life. And maybe, if you’ve felt disconnected and out of place at church then you might see what it “could” be when it’s filled with genuine believers striving to imitate the character of Christ to those they encounter on this earth.  


Time for the qualifier. Church is tricky. People are imperfect. We like to sometimes hold Christian’s to a higher standard and unfortunately we are all human regardless of whether we call ourselves a Christian or not and Christian’s are imperfect. Even more unfortunate is that there are those who call themselves Christian’s that spew hatred and have performed evil and vile acts either in the name of God or just in complete and total disgusting hypocrisy. I believe there is a difference in being a hypocrite and being an imperfect person trying to do right but messing up from time to time. If you’ve had an experience or trauma at the hands of someone who is a hypocrite, then I understand your hesitation to be a part of any organized religion.  I have never experienced such in my own personal life directed towards me, but I’m not naive enough to believe it doesn’t happen. 


I want to share this because I’ve spent some time letting my heart settle into a place of bitterness due to many hurts over the last several years. But thankfully I didn’t stay there. And each day is a struggle but I don’t believe I’m going to get stuck there. Why? Because of the church. Thanksgiving is this week and I found it an opportune time as I’ve reached a point in the healing of my heart to experience immense gratitude and the desire to share that with you and hopefully those that are going to be mentioned (or at least alluded to). 


Because while church is full of imperfect people, it’s also a place of community. If I go back to my very beginning, it’s a place where I sat in Mrs. Pam’s cradle roll class with 4 or 5 other girls that would become my best friends. It’s a place where my grandpa helped me make cookies at the annual Christmas cookie bake in between getting in trouble for eating the dough. It’s a place that held an annual dress up tea party complete with Mrs. Pam’s jello eggs and a “professional photo” in our gowns taken by none other than my neighbor. It’s where we ran to Mr. Cloyd Pepper for candy every Sunday and always looked forward to VBS and the July Fourth (homemade) ice cream fellowship in the summer, and the donut fellowship in the winter. It’s where I saw one of my best friend's mom dress up as “Polly Darton” in a Hee Haw skit that had us all rolling with laughter. It’s where my mom taught toddlers and my dad was the Youth Minister. He imparted so much wisdom in teaching my classes (from like 6th grade on?). It’s why I went to church camp every summer before I was even old enough to go but had to because my parents and Grandpa were all counselors and involved. Its where I waited patiently for my birthday bread from Mrs. Pam and then rushed to the car with my sister to eat it while we waited for my parents to finish visiting (and it’s now where Matt gets his own birthday bread). It gave me a camping crew that I spent almost every Labor Day and Memorial Day with. And it gave me the best childhood and lifelong friends whose parents feel like friends now that we are older because I spent so much time at their houses as a child. 


Fast forward and it’s what got me going to Harding. I certainly think you can make an argument that college friends are special regardless of where you went to school, but there is something extra special about friendships that develop with friends  that pray with you and for you and share in your beliefs. Harding is where I spilled my orange juice all over a (now) dear friend the first day of class and we went from that to being in each others weddings. Harding gave me the opportunity to attend Honor Symposium and allows me to say that I’ve had one of my “college friends” since my junior year of high school (which is just wild when you do the math in how long we’ve been friends).  Harding gave me a workout buddy that lives so far away it’s almost impossible to visit but I still think about her regularly and would welcome a chance to catch up. It gave me a club of friends that have led to a friendship with one of the sponsors and her daughter and annual opportunities to get together and catch up with them and other club alumni and friends. It gave me connections (through my dad’s time at Harding) that led to my job in Paducah, my first friend in Paducah, and ultimately to the church I made my church home here. Being apart of the church in Paducah has given me an instant community in a town where I knew no one, a group of ladies that pour into me as friends and mentors whether they even know that or not.  A pseudo family when I was new to the area and had no one to spend my Sunday afternoons with. A running buddy to share fitness, fun, books and life’s woes with (and her husband who let me be a third wheel for years before introducing me to Matt). It’s where I met my now husband who has changed my life for the better in ways I cannot express in words. It's very nearly the entire makeup of my friends in this town, and it’s ultimately where my heart has continued to heal through sermons and classes I’ve attended over the last couple of years. It’s where I sat in bitterness over a friends death from cancer and tears filled my eyes when I heard an elderly man of the congregation going through cancer treatments sing from a few pews behind me and with the strongest voice, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine.” and I thought of the peace he has and the peace my friend has in Jesus’s arms and the peace I could have if my faith were stronger (second qualifier: peace does not mean you are not grieving any longer). 


If I sat down over a period of days I could think of numerous memories to share from

childhood, college, and my current church home in Paducah. If I tried to list people by name I would most assuredly forget someone.


I’m not sure how to wrap this up or if anyone has even made it this far. These are my memories and impactful moments and not necessarily special to anyone else. But as I think over them I begin to realize that it is no wonder I was bitter over the last few years. I’ve had an incredibly blessed life. Far beyond what I deserve. And I have God to think for that. And when the hard times come at me, it’s not because He isn’t good but the consequences of a broken world. I’ve learned that my faith has not always been the strongest. When I thought it was, it was because it hadn’t been tested. I’ve learned since I have experienced some testing of my faith that the testing will only continue for the rest of the days of my life. And I’ve learned that when my faith was tested and the challenges came at me, church was hard sometimes,but it was also what got me through. And I’ve also learned it requires investing. Investing in attending. Investing in activities the church hosts. Investing in hosting and. Liming up with new activities for different groups at church. And investing  in the people in the congregation. Because being in the presence of God’s people is being in the presence of Christ himself. 


He speaks to us through our songs. He reaches out to us in our times of need through the members of the body. He guides us through our mentors. And he uses us all to show each other His love if we will let him. I’m so thankful to have been raised by my mom and dad, around my grandma and grandpa and in the presence of the adults and friends I was blessed to have in my life. I am so thankful every day that I held fast to what I was taught as I grew and the community that surrounds me now. It’s not perfect. I’m not perfect. But as I’ve been working on mending my heart, really examining myself, and making changes in my life- it’s the influences of so many members of the church that have helped me stick with my faith when I questioned, return to serving others when I was looking inward, and encouraged me when I felt down. So I guess to wrap it up I’d say thank you God for the community you’ve surrounded me with in your church and I pray that everyone can see your love and goodness through me and others striving to serve you.


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