Dearest Rachel -
So yesterday, I met with Pastor Scott, in part at my dad's suggestion. It's been a while since we used to get together for lunch – in part for fairly obvious reasons, but it's been more than just the fact that I've been traveling that's keep us from connecting.
Just like with Lars, it was supposed to be a regular occurrence; a chance to get together and work through my situation, as well as our relationship, I suppose. It wasn't expected to be as frequent as with Lars – running a large and growing church has its responsibilities, and even though Scott is doing what he can to step back from the minutia of day-to-day operations for each location, he does have a responsibility to connect with as many of the congregation as he can – and so, became less and less frequent as the years have gone by.
Besides, it wasn't as if I appeared to need his assistance and counsel as much, as I worked through my grief in my own way. For all that I still see myself as 'damaged goods,' I think I'm in much better shape than most others who might be in my position (not that there are many of those, to be sure). And even if I'm not, I can at least pass myself off as such. In a world where his profession has to play triage in a spiritual M*A*S*H unit, there are more important – and urgent – cases to deal with.
I'm okay with this; while I might admit to being in the position of the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son, I like to think that I'm not about to complain about the fact that my younger brother gets the spotlight and the celebration. In general, it just means that I can't relate to the whole "I was lost, and now I'm found" in those people's stories, since I was never particularly 'lost' to begin with. It also suggests that, not having as much debt to write off as some, I may not be as grateful to be forgiven as they are, which may explain why I've occasionally complained of not having the same amount of 'fire in the belly' as some folks have about their faith.
Perhaps, though, the one thing that gnaws at me, in the role of the older brother, is the fact that the prodigals' stories seem to always have a certain "happily ever after" nature to them, like coming to Christ solves everything for them. And in the long run, yeah, it does and it will, but in my life, I still feel like I'm wandering in the wilderness. It's not that I haven't been given chances to celebrate like the older brother complained about (and to be honest, I think he may have overlooked a few times he was, in fact, allowed to do so with his friends, his complaint notwithstanding) – indeed, I have more means, and reason, to celebrate than most people at my age and station of life – but they seem to be in a much better place, whereas I'm still trying to work things out.
Now, this may be a relative measure, a matter of perspective. It may well be that things have just improved for them so much in such a relatively short time that they can't help but see and feel the difference and exult in it, even though they may still be several steps behind me by any metric – materially or spiritually. Meanwhile, I've been essentially stuck on a plateau that, for all I can see, could just as easily be the Gobi Desert as the Great Plains; well above sea level, but so flat in every direction that upward progress seems like a literally remote possibility.
And I probably don't need to even start on the many things that I wish I had a little more guidance about regarding my next few steps; it's what prompted my letter yesterday, in fact, because, as you might guess, I don't know where I ought to go from here. So you can probably guess that my appointment had more to do with that than just reconnecting with Pastor Scott and telling him about my travels (although I did do some of that; it's going to be an inevitable part of interpersonal relationships for a while, I expect).
As it so happened, though, this was something of a short-notice meeting; it so happens that he'll be out of town over the next couple of weeks. Most of this time will be spent up at the camp, interviewing and helping train (I guess) the summer staff. So, this was the one week he would be available for some time.
But it leads into the final thing I thought I should mention; he recommended that I come up there to see him for a few days, just to clear my head for a bit. It's not like I haven't been at camp a few times since you left us all there – even overnight for a couple of nights – but at my pastor's suggestion? Well, I suppose that, when a sign like this comes around, it would be foolish of me to refuse. It's certainly not like I can't do it; heck, I could literally drive up there right now, except things won't be going on until at least next week (and will probably really ratchet up the following week). So now, I have to see what I can do about making arrangements to stay there then.
And with that, there's not much else to be said about it but to ask you to keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I'm going to need it.
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