Say What’s On Your Heart

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A few months ago, I went out to dinner with a friend of mine. This friend had helped me during some tough times at college, and she always had a positive, upbeat attitude. She helped balance out the somewhat morbid and pessimistic outlook I had at that time. Since we hadn’t seen each other in a (relatively) long time, we spent the meal catching up on what was going on in our lives. It occurred to me as we were eating that we had both changed quite a bit since we had last seen each other.

Her voice used to sound so happy, like a bird, and she was able to lift my spirits. Yet on this particular evening, her voice sounded like it was weighed down, and I noticed the spark of life was gone from her eyes. Conversely, my voice sounded lighter and happier, compared to the way it sounded a few years ago. The conversation began to feel like I was treading through mud, and I couldn’t pick her up. I figured she was probably tired from work, and I knew she had some stressful situations going on back home, and yet I regret that I didn’t ask her, “Hey–you sound kind of sad. Is everything okay?”

There’s a chance she would’ve said, “Sure, everything’s fine,” but I still feel like I should have asked that question. I think we often try to give people the highlights of our lives and present a positive image of ourselves, so much so that even when we have face-to-face conversations, we keep up that facade that we use online. It’s easier to hide behind a screen, but you can’t hide in person. You shouldn’t have to, either. I wanted to help my friend the same way that she had been able to help me, and I wonder if maybe I failed by not pausing and asking that tough question.

I say it’s a “tough question” because I think on the whole, most people don’t want to talk about pain. Pain is an inconvenience, sorrow is a nag, and anger is a deterrent. We don’t want people to know when we feel those “bad feelings.” I’m guilty of this as well, because there were–and are–plenty of times when someone has asked me “how are you?” and I would respond with an enthusiastic “good!”, when in reality, I felt pretty crummy.  Why do we do this? I know sometimes I do it because I don’t want to hear people’s advice, but then it’s wrong for me to go to bed at night crying because “nobody knows what I’m going through.” If I had the opportunity to share earlier, then it’s on me.

You can be a positive person and still admit that you’re having a bad day–it doesn’t make you any less positive. It makes you more genuine. When you’re willing to be sincere and put yourself out there, you will find that there are people who not only want to help you–they can also empathize with you because they might be going through the same thing. This leads to healing and freedom–when you’re able to share your burdens with other people and uplift one another, and pray for each other. I know not all of you are Christians, but this idea is found in the Bible. No man is an island, and we were made for companionship, not isolation.

Next time I speak with my friend, I will ask her if everything’s okay. But also, I need to learn to stop “good-ing” when people ask me if everything is okay. Both asking and answering can be intimidating, but ultimately, it is liberating.

~Nikita

Don’t Settle for Less

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A pair of shoes I regret buying

I hate shoe shopping.

Just the phrase “shoe shopping” makes me cringe slightly on the inside. I dislike stores such as Nine West, Aldo, and Payless. Are the shoes the problem? No–it’s my feet. This is why I wear the same pairs of shoes over and over until they fall apart beyond repair. Then I have to go shoe shopping.

However, once I’m in a shoe store, I try to be as open-minded as possible in my selection process. I’ll try on heels, flats, sandals, boots–I get to a point where I’ll take almost anything. Occasionally I will fall in love with a beautifully designed shoe, and this is where the trouble begins.

I’ll pick out three sizes–7, 7.5, and 8. I’ll try all three sizes on. By process of elimination, I’ll narrow the selection down to that one size that sort of fits right–but not quite. It pinches my toes in the front. It slips off my heel in the back. It’s too wide in the middle where my arch is. So I think, Okay, I can still make this work. I can use a shoe tree to widen the front. I can try to alter the shoes to suit me. And I can wear socks with this pair. I can try to make myself fit well with these shoes. I can put a heel guard in the back. This way there’s a boundary between me and the shoe, but I still don’t have to fully accept what the shoe truly is.

I spend time in the store staring at the not-quite-perfect pair of shoes, trying them on again, walking around with them, dancing in them, and debating with myself whether these shoes are really worth the investment.

I don’t want to leave the store empty-handed, so I end up settling for the shoes that don’t quite fit.

In the end, I don’t even bother wearing the shoes. I wasted my time and money on something that was aesthetically pleasing at best but dysfunctional at worst.

I was speaking on the phone to a dear friend of mine recently. She was telling me how she had been dating this guy from her church for awhile, but she was thinking about ending the relationship. He had some anger and insecurity issues because of what had happened during his childhood and teenage years. He never dealt with these conflicts, so he carried this baggage into his relationship with my friend–along with the aftereffects. He would get defensive for no reason, he would blow up at my friend and later forget what he even said, and whenever she was busy and couldn’t pick up her phone, he would ask where she was and why she wasn’t answering him.

He even said himself that he should probably go for therapy–and yet, he didn’t make any effort to take that course of action.

As I listened to my friend tell me all this, I knew for certain that this guy was the wrong match for her. She’s such a happy, sweet, calm person, I told her–why would she want to put herself through a relationship like this? She deserves better.

Our chat on the phone probably confirmed what she already knew, so she broke up with him not long afterward.

She did tell me, though, that “the pickings are so slim!” And oh sweet goodness, they are. I mean, the dating pool is shallow enough regardless, but when you’re a Christian, it’s even more so.

But I just want to say for the people reading this–Christian or not–do not settle for less than what would be best for you. Do not date someone because you’re lonely, or because you’re in a rush to get married and start a family, or because you’re bored and just want something fun to do.

If you’re dating someone who has the potential to be abusive–or if he’s already abusive–then please, please, GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN. It’s better to be single forever than to marry an abuser.

For my brothers and sisters in Christ, trust God. There’s a reason why you’re single right now. Maybe there’s some personal conflicts you need to resolve. Maybe there’s something you need to accomplish now that will be difficult to do once you’re married. Maybe you just need some more time to grow. Regardless, make marriage a matter of prayer.

Back to the shoe analogy, these are 3 lessons I’ve learned about relationships: 1) The same way you cannot change a pair of shoes to truly fit you, you cannot change a person to become what you really want them to be. Besides, that’s not fair to them or to you. 2) Don’t compromise who you are to be more like them. You will be unhappy and they will be deceived. 3) Don’t flirt if you know you cannot follow through on having a real relationship. Don’t lead someone on, even if it’s unintentional. You may think you’re just friends, but they may not see it that way.

Don’t settle. Know your worth, and know that you don’t need another person to affirm your worth.

~Nikita

ENVY.

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Facepalm.

Envy is a sin I’ve always struggled with. I can tell you my origins story for this, tell you all the ways I felt like I had the short end of the stick throughout my life while others had it easier, but that would be a waste of time and energy–both for me and for you.

A religion teacher in high school once told my class that envy is the only sin which cannot bring a person pleasure. Really, where is the fun in envy? How can envy feel good? My teacher made a valid point, but I think he forgot something.

If a sin does not feel good, people would not keep returning to it.

So there has to be something I get out of envy. But what is it?

Now, I’m not a theologian or anything, but I think envy is rooted in a lack of contentment with your own life. There is a reason why the apostle Paul said this in Phillipians 4:12–

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

I’ve been reading the book of Acts during my morning commute, and I’ve been reminded of how many atrocities Paul had to endure while he was preaching the Gospel. Entire towns turned against him. He was loved and despised by both Jews and Gentiles, slaves and authority figures. He was flogged, imprisoned, shipwrecked, stoned–Paul had a rough time. Perhaps some would say that this was God’s retribution for the time Paul spent persecuting Christians before he became one himself.

But I wouldn’t say so.

I think life happened to Paul. Reading through Acts feels almost like reading the book of Job. There are times when I’m reading it and I think to myself, but why would God allow so many bad things to happen to His servants? They’re preaching the Gospel for His namesake, so why is He allowing so many tragedies to befall His people? Why????

Peter had an easier time with his ministry than Paul did, based on my feeble human reasoning. In reality, it’s senseless to compare one person’s suffering to another’s, because pain is a very personal thing and we all experience it differently. Again, though, based on a mental tally mark chart of how many things Paul went through versus how many things Peter went through, as it is recorded in the book of Acts, I think Paul had a lot more difficulty in his life.

Interestingly enough, though, Paul never has a pity party in his letters to the various churches. He could have reminded the Thessalonians about the mob that had ensued after he preached about Messiah. If Paul wanted to, he could have written “We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers. Except for those people who forced me out of the city. We don’t pray for them. Remember them? How are they doing now, eh?”

Paul didn’t write that, though. Nor did he waste time comparing his hardships to those of Peter’s.

In the end, both men were martyred. Any earthly gain they had–or didn’t have–did not matter. Both men were going to spend eternity in God’s presence.

Put in this perspective, my complaints are irrelevant. Obsessively looking at the lives of other people prevents me from seeing how [strangely?] wonderful my own life is. Has it always been easy? No. But I don’t need to walk three miles a day to fetch water from a well, so I can be grateful for that. I have a job that I love, I live close to the sea, my home is peaceful, I have friends who care about me, I’m young and free in NYC, and, above all, I have a Savior who loves me.

So, what pleasure does envy derive? The only pleasure I can think of is the happiness I feel when I see something go wrong in someone’s seemingly perfect life. That sounds absolutely horrible, but don’t pretend you haven’t felt that way before, too. We all like to see celebrities get humiliated on TMZ.

As a sidenote, if I envy someone because of something I could have if I work for it, then that is just plain stupidity. I am to blame for my own mediocrity.

Oh, and the downside to envy–why it’s wrong–is ingratitude. Being envious tells God that you think He made a mistake, or that He hasn’t been a good provider. If God wants you to have something, He will make a way. Ultimately, though, He knows what’s best.

Shalom. Peace.

~Nikita

Recluses’ Excuses

I wrote this entry back in late May and never published it, so here it is 🙂

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There’s been a change in my life over the past 2 months. My anxiety has dissipated quite a bit.

Explanation? I think I’m just getting used to my work routine, and I think the subway is helping me grow a thicker skin, so to speak. Also, lots of prayer. And it’s sunnier longer now!

With the current season of warmer weather, I am entering a season of my life where I actually want to go out and do stuff. I’ve spent the past three years letting my anxiety dictate what I will or won’t do. Now that I’m calmer, though, I’m realizing that a fully lived life requires going outside and interacting with people–and that I don’t want to look back on my early 20s as “the time I did nothing because I was afraid of everything.” Real life doesn’t happen within the confines of my room.

So, for fun, I’ve compiled a list of “recluses’ excuses” that I’ve used over the past few years. (A recluse, by the way, is someone who stays in their house and doesn’t go out. Like ever. Emily Dickinson was a recluse. I can’t help but wonder if that’s why she wasn’t really famous until after she died.)

Okay, so, these are things I’ve either told myself/my mom/my sister/my friends whenever I want to get out of going out (along with some snarky responses I have for myself):

1. “But I’m tired…”–I am convinced that exhaustion is 40% physical and 60% mental. True, there are times when I feel really tired after work, and yet for some reason I find myself doing contemporary dance in front of my bedroom mirror at 11:30 PM. More often than not, my second wind will kick in. I just need to eat some protein and keep calm. (My mom recently joked that I need to take Geritol *sigh*)

2. “It’s too cold outside”–I know I’m not the only one who hibernates in the Winter. And really, it’s not always healthy/safe to spend extensive amounts of time outside in the cold. But if I’m just traveling from point A to point B in a heated vehicle, then what’s the problem?

3. “It’s too hot outside”–As you can probably tell, I don’t like extremes in temperature. I like when the weather is somewhere between 40 and 85 degrees (Fahrenheit). Last summer I did attempt to go to the park with a friend during a heat wave. It lasted all of 15 minutes, and judging by the fact that only 5 cars were parked in the usually-packed parking lot, we were among the brave ones. Same as I said in point #2, though, just because I can’t be in the outdoors doesn’t mean I can’t go out at all.

4. “It’s raining”–Not kidding, I used this excuse twice in the past few weeks. Apparently I’m not waterproof…even though I own a raincoat, rain boots, and an umbrella. I think the reasoning here is just sheer laziness. Also, I get strangely sentimental about being cozy in my house during a rainstorm….

5. “Nobody will care if I go or don’t go”–Don’t go for them. Go for you.

6. “I’m not familiar with that neighborhood”–And I never will be if I don’t visit sometime and explore a bit. Granted, there are certain neighborhoods I wouldn’t visit by myself after 9 PM. That’s common sense, though.

7. “I don’t know anybody there”–Exactly! That means a clean slate for making a good first impression. And if the chances are high that you’ll never see these people again, even better! Hey–you never know who you’re gonna meet.

8. “But I was planning on doing this nice indoor activity”–Oh, like reading? Or going on Facebook? Or watching a movie? Unless it’s a creative project, this excuse doesn’t apply.

9. “My [insert random body part here] hurts”–It will hurt whether you stay home or you go out. As long as it doesn’t prevent you from enjoying yourself and being able to engage in whatever activity is going on, just go.

10. “My nerves are shot”–This is something I usually say after a busy day at work and a tough commute home. It basically means I am emotionally spent and I am in “the panic zone.” This does not necessarily mean I *will* have a panic attack if I go out, but the chances of me feeling anxious while I’m out are pretty darn high. Interestingly enough, there are times when my nerves are shot and I go somewhere because I have to, and then after the first 15 minutes of being there, I end up having a good time for the rest of the night. So, in short, results may vary. But “what if’s” are inconsequential either way.

I will do my best in the upcoming weeks to avoid using these excuses and, as Nike says, just do it. I would love to take a pottery class or sing karaoke or go see Shakespeare in the park.

I just need to find people to do these things with. And I just ended a sentence with a preposition.

~Nikita

Resilience.

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When I spent those 5 months unemployed (and looking), I was pretty bummed out. I wanted something to do–needed a reason to get up every morning and leave my room, besides going to the kitchen to get a box of Kashi cereal. It happens. The worst part is that when you have anxiety, the more you stay inside, the harder it is to go outside.

Then, I was hired. Somebody decided I was worth a chance, and to this day, I still enjoy going to work. I like my job, I like my coworkers, I like the the location. The commute is very simple–but I have to admit, taking the train was an adjustment for me. In the beginning, I’d be sitting on the train crouched over, squeezing my stress ball and struggling to catch my breath as I listened to Jesus Culture’s album Come Away. Then gradually, I was able to put the stressball away and just listen to music, but I would still be crouched in the fetal position. Recently, I graduated from fetus to sitting upright. It’s taken me two months, but I’m getting used to the train. Even starting to enjoy it, to an extent. Except when there’s a problem.

Today there was a switch malfunction…or a fire…or a broken pipe…I don’t know, I can’t find an accurate story. All I know is that when I got out of work, all trains going uptown to the Bronx were out of service. I noticed when I first walked into the station that there was a swarm of people rushing upstairs from the 4-5-6 platform. They looked like rats scampering to get out. And me, like an idiot, thought “Oh wow, there’s a lot of people getting off the train.”

Really.

So I swiped my Metrocard, went downstairs to go uptown, and figured everything would be business as usual. I noticed it was a little more crowded than it normally is, but I thought, eh, maybe something’s wrong with the 7 train (I always blame the 7 train). But then the people on board the 5 train were told to get out. Well, you’d think the conductor must’ve said something about their mothers, the way one man reacted. But the 5 train people stayed. So we had a mobbed platform full of hungry, angry, lonely, and tired people. And when you are Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired, you need to HALT and make sure you don’t do something regrettable. It was by this point that an already packed 6 train left the platform, and then the disembodied voice came on the PA to announce that “due to a switch malfunction, 6 trains will not be running between 42nd and 139th.” Okay, I thought. I don’t need to get off between here and 139th anyway.

But the longer we waited, the more “delays” showed up on the schedule, and I realized I’d better get my behind to the express bus stop if I wanted to get home anytime soon.

Walking to the express bus is, for me, a revelatory journey of sorts. The few times I’ve done it, I’ve found it tiresome, confusing, isolating…even though I’m surrounded by people. Technically, the express bus is not that far from my job. The problem is me. So I walked to the express bus and had my moment of crashing at 331 Madison Avenue, where I sank down in the hallway of an elitist apartment building. The security guard was about 30 feet away, but I figured I should let him know that I was not deliberately trying to loiter.

One thing I’ve learned as a receptionist is the value of courtesy. Like the Bible says in Proverbs 15:1, a soft answer really does turn away wrath, and in order to come across as disarming, I’ve softened my voice. (To the point that if my mom calls me at work, she remarks about how nice I sound on the phone. Haha. I learn from the best!)

So I told the security guard something like this: “Excuse me, sir, I’m not trying to loiter. I’m just staying until I recuperate.” He said it was okay. I continued. “You see, the 6 train had a switch malfunction, so I’ve been walking to the Express bus at Madison and 45th, and I’m really out of shape.” He said it was fine if I stayed. I could stay as long as I needed to. I could even sit by the stairs.

His kindness undid me. I was going to weep. I got myself together, gulped down some Gatorade and water, put my coat on, grabbed my bags, and headed out to walk to the BxM8.

Where there was a line of people waiting.

I managed to get a seat, and I figured I was set, but then the bus driver had to tell boarders at the next stop that they would have to stand if they got on the bus. One middle-aged blonde lady didn’t care–she just wanted to get home. We all, in fact, just wanted to get home. This is the goal of every commuter. This lady–I’ll call her Cassandra–stood in the aisle right beside my seat, where she proceeded to murmur and complain.

I felt like I should give her my seat. After all, I’m young. I’ll live. So I offered my seat to her. She asked me if I was sure. And I was all, “Yeah, of course!”

Look at me, getting all optimistic. As the bus got fuller, we aisle-standers had to make our way towards the back. I took my coat off and put it in that shelf above the seats. I felt stylish and confident in my black blazer. The feeling was short-lived. Let me tell you something–Express buses were not made for standing. This is why they have narrow aisles and lots of seats. So after awhile, my anxiety kicked in. My feet got numb because I wore my heeled boots today. My legs felt stiff and strained. I tried various positions of leaning. But I became pretty scared once the hot/cold flashes started coming over me. I contemplated sitting on the floor. It wouldn’t be comfortable or socially acceptable, but I don’t know these people so it’s all good. I continued to stand, though.

And it was strenuous. I appreciated the scenery and all, but the traffic and swerves and whatnot made me feel thrown, and I was starting to feel weak.

When I finally felt like I couldn’t take it anymore, the bus driver announced our first stop. Then I was finally able to sit. And I cried because of 3 things: 1) I was glad it was over. 2) I felt bad I put myself through that. 3) God proved me wrong like He always does–I can do it. Because He will give me the grace/strength I need. I prayed while I was on that bus, and the song “Shoulders” by Tal & Acacia played on my iPod.

Slowly, I’m building up resilience. I’m not like I used to be. And I’m not alone.

~Nikita

The Panic Diaries: Fighting Immobility

Hey all. As I announced in my last entry, I now finally have a job!

But with any change comes new adjustments…and new fears.

Thankfully, I’ve built up a pretty sizable arsenal of coping techniques. The unfortunate thing is that I have my moments when even those don’t seem to work…

And those moments are frightening.

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My boss was kind to let me out early this past Friday because many people took the day off and it was a slow day. I was determined to go to Posman Books in Grand Central to buy two contemporary classics–Slaughterhouse Five and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, Grand Central was really mobbed on this particular day because it was Black Friday–which meant that the place was filled with travelers and shoppers. I soon felt overheated and overwhelmed, so I plopped myself down on the floor under a closed ticket booth and drank my gatorade as people rolled their luggage and gave me strange looks. Or maybe the looks weren’t strange, but either way, I felt really self-conscious.

And I continued to sit on the floor. And the fear of getting up seized my heart.

I started mentally going over my options. Cab? No, too expensive. Call my mom and ask her to meet me in Grand Central? Not feasible, and she’d probably want to slap me through the phone. I knew two things: 1) My problem was anxiety in and of itself. I wan’t afraid of any particular bodily ailment or any specific threat or dangerous person. I just felt scared for no particular reason. And it sucked. 2) I couldn’t stay on the floor. I had to get up at some point, whether I liked it or not.

I felt anguished. Based on past experience, I knew a good cry would be somewhat relieving, but I couldn’t muster up the tears. So I had to be a big girl and get up. I unlocked my iPod so I could play Jesus Culture’s album Come Away, and I started to repeat Joshua 1:9 to myself over and over again. I needed to remind myself that God was going to be with me wherever I go.

I walked over to the area where I could go down the escalator to catch my train, but when I saw the crowd of people just waiting to get on the escalator, I thought to myself, “Nope. I’ll just take the Express bus.”

Which meant that I would have to walk to the Express bus. In the cold. By myself….Just like everybody else! But when you have panic disorder, even tasks that normal people find trivial can sometimes turn into mountains. So I made a few stops along the way to the bus so I could warm up. It snowed for all of one minute, and I had to laugh at the whole situation. When I finally boarded the bus, I felt a huge sense of relief.

You can’t die from panic disorder, as I’ve reminded myself multiple times. The problem is that when you’re in the midst of an attack, even though you feel like you’re gonna die, you know you’re going to live…and that there’s a huge chance you’ll have another panic attack sometime soon. The combination of these three things makes me feel miserable at times–I feel like I’m dying, but I know I’m going to live, and I know I might feel like I’m dying again sometime soon. But I cannot focus on the what-if’s. Instead, I can look back on the small victories. To you, these things may be run-of-the-mill and mundane. But for me, getting up in the middle of Grand Central station and moving ahead was momentous. Because it proved to me that I’m more resilient than I think I am, and that God is still with me, even when I’m walking alone.

❤ Nikita

PS Is anybody looking to get rid of an old copy of either Slaughterhouse Five or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn? Please let me know via Twitter @Vacca_To_World. Thank you!

Losing Loved Ones (Who Are Still Alive)

A few people in this photo are still with us. My sister is actually the girl standing behind me.

When my sister was in her senior year of high school, she had to take a class called “Death & Dying.” I don’t think I need to explain what the class is about, but when I took that same class at that same high school six years later, they had changed the name of the course to “Alpha & Omega.” The school did this renaming for two reasons:

1) “Death & Dying” was apparently too morbid.

2) They wanted to talk about beginnings as well as endings.

Still, death was very prominent in this course, and I remember reading an essay about mourning the various “deaths” we encounter throughout our lives. Some deaths are concrete–the death of a loved one, or confronting our own mortality. However, some deaths are more abstract–the death of our childhood, the death of a marriage.

Over the past 4 years, I did grieve the deaths of several family members and friends. These deaths are difficult to think about, because when I do I am reminded that I didn’t get to know some of my relatives very well before they died, and vice versa. Now I can’t visit any of these people and talk to them.

Those were not my only losses, though, because over the past 4 years I’ve mourned many friendships. Some of these friendships disintegrated, some were cut down at my own hand, and some just…evaporated. I mourned the loss of the youth group at my church. We went from having 25 members to having almost no one. And yes, I lost these friendships, too. Sure, sometimes a few keep in touch. I’ll give someone a life on Candy Crush Saga, or they’ll wish me a happy birthday when it’s that time of the year. But otherwise, we do not confide, we do not converse, we do not pray for one another, we do not call each other, we do not hang out. At all.

Everyone left for different reasons. Some left on bad terms. Some wanted to go to a different church. Some simply left without a trace. And some wanted to walk away from God.

Most of these people who left did not say goodbye to me. And you see, when somebody dies, that’s usually one of the first complaints of the person who grieves–“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye! I didn’t get to tell them that I love them! I didn’t get to make peace with them before they passed on!” But when the person is still alive and they exit your life, and you don’t get any closure–it just stings. Can I track some of these people down? For sure. I know where some of them live, I’m friends with many of them on Facebook, I even still have some of their phone numbers. What’s the point of it, though, if chances are they won’t be receptive? After all, they haven’t bothered reaching out to me, so why should I reach out to them?

That’s when I realize, though–maybe they’re thinking the same thing. Maybe they get sentimental for the good old days, too. Maybe they want to contact me, or contact someone else who left, but they’re afraid to because we’re all afraid of the same thing–

Rejection.

For those of us who still follow Christ, though, we have no excuse. If we truly are brothers and sisters, why can’t we get along? If my mom or my sister moved to a different house, I wouldn’t disown them. So why do we, as Christians, get into such an uproar when someone leaves our church to go to another?

It partly has to do with how they left, and why they left. What did they leave behind? Did they cause division? Do they speak badly of us now that they’ve left? Did they get into a fight with someone prior to their leaving?

I took some of it personally in the beginning. In my mind, I kept making the situation about me–why didn’t they say goodbye to me? What did I do wrong? We were working on the same ministry team–why didn’t they tell me they were going to jump ship? After awhile, though, I tried to understand their story, their side. Some of these people were abandoned themselves, and maybe they don’t know how to respectfully leave a person or a place. Some of these people had serious issues and needed help. Some of these people felt humiliated and didn’t want to make the situation any bigger.

Now, I can understand these things. I forgive those who have left and I still love them all. I still mourn from time to time, but as time passes by, I can relive the memories without crying. 

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35)

~Nikita