But where is my home?
One of the joys of this sabbatical has been visiting other churches. There is one preacher in particular who really speaks to me, although she regularly challenges me - we share neither theology (in some cases) nor denomination. And that is good. For me. I don't want to belong to or even visit a church of me.
Yet I find I'm reluctant to return to my home church. I have been back once every couple of months or so. And the people are so wonderful. I miss them and they miss me. I love them and know they love me. And I still love our liturgy and traditions. But there are some things about our hierarchy and preaching (preacher) that I do not miss. At all.
I'm clear that I cannot stay in any of my host congregations. Nor would I want to. I don't belong there. Or there. Or even there.
Do I belong in my congregation? I am committed to them. It feels like a job even though I volunteer and regularly serve in other congregations. I long to return to my teaching vocation, even with the administrative work and meetings that I loathe. It's more than worth it.
But I don't want to return to my church.
I really don't want to.
But I will.
There's no place else for me here.
I guess it is home.
For now.
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