It was the night before Christmas, and Kiah was definitely stirring, because who else is writing this if not me. Idk, I was trying to go somewhere clever with that, but I’m adjusted to Kansas time again, so it is pretty late.
Four minutes until Christmas.
I sat in a Christmas eve service today, and had a very similar, if not worse reaction to my Easter Sunday 2025 experience. All of it will come across as judgey because I’m bad with tones, but I’m trying to not be judgey, just expressing my frustration with the American church at large. I’m also a horrid judge of numbers of people in one space, but there were a lot of people there. Mega church levels of people. That’s not inherently bad, I want to start with, but on Christmas Eve especially, every single person in that church slipped out without a word from anyone that graced the stage.
Here’s the thing. That was the most shallow, concert-y, gross underestimation of the vastness of God and what it means to actually worship Him, didn’t even mention the birth of Jesus Christmas Eve service that I have ever seen. The Thailand Christmas eve service (or a few days before Christmas) of last year with 15 people showed more reverence towards a holy and powerful God than this maybe 5,000 people with an almost unlimited budget did.
There were 8 worship songs. Five of which I had never heard (not a big deal at all, just something interesting). We started out for the first song sitting down. But then, the second and third songs slipped by, and all 5,000 people remained sitting down. On the fifth song, I resolved to stand up, and as I was doing so, a whole group of people in the back also did the same, and soon enough, the whole church was standing. After that song, we were politely asked/told to sit back down. I was fuming. And maybe this is a stupid thing, but I don’t get told how my posture of worship looks like in the physical, whether directly or through societal pressure. I whispered to my mom that it felt supremely disrespectful to Christ. My sister said that she felt like she was at a concert, because only the people on stage were singing. On the last song, I again decided to stand up. (This seems so silly now, but I was TERRIFIED. Because that time, there was no group in the back. It was JUST me.) i had my eyes firmly shut, but finally felt like I was giving Christ the respect that He deserves. A minute or so later, I open my eyes, the worship paster makes direct eye contact with me, and then invites everyone else to stand up.
That is my musical tale of woe. We won’t talk about how people clapped in between every song, or how my family glared at me for standing, or the fact that I felt convicted by the second song and didn’t do anything for a while. I’m not built for the mega church life.
The sermon was much of the same. The Christmas story was mentioned all of once, in a half minute overview of the life of Jesus. It was an overview of John 3:16. Verses used out of context (and I’m not just talking about John 3:17 being left out). The whole sermon was about the love of God. Great. The love of God is why I follow Him. But never once was it explained just how important that love and MERCY is. Sin was mentioned a singular time, and not in a context that was relevant. I don’t know. Maybe I’m throwing a big fuss over nothing. But how much was spent to get those big flashy lights to open, the thousands and thousands of candles for the singular candlelit song, that could have been. No. I know what I sound like. I’ll leave it there, because I can’t really seem to explain myself the way that I want to.
It’s so strange being home. While an outreach team is in Asia right now. While a year ago, I was in Thailand. Being home seems like cheating somehow. It hasn’t been bad. I’ve been tearing through the book pile that I left at home, playing a lot of board games.
Talked to a church about supporting me, didn’t hear back, and it’s been a week. I don’t have high hopes, but it’s also Christmas, and everything moves slower over Christmas.
One of my friends stopped tiptoeing around vulnerability, and I found myself at a complete loss for anything to say. I’m losing my words. I wanted so desperately to actually further that conversation, and I just. Couldn’t. I’m sure they didn’t think so, but who knows.
Went to an old friend/mentor’s house on Sunday. She was my second mom through my last two years of high school. We made dinner, and set up her Christmas tree. Her daughter, a few years older than me, is living in Australia, so I think I was a stand in daughter for her, and I got to process a lot of current things with an outsider that has consistently solid advice. I hadn’t seen her since leaving in September of 2024 for my DTS long enough to have a conversation beyond a few minutes, so for three hours, I shared the ins and outs of everything. The Trevor story wound its way in and out, as well as the “what I’m doing next” story, and a few other minor plot points that were significant to spend a decent amount of time on. I didn’t think I would get choked up talking about Trevor. I haven’t cried about him in a month. But sure enough, I had to pause and clear my throat a few times to brush away the unexpected tears.
It doesn’t help that I keep having dreams about him. They usually follow some variation of the same script. I’m somewhere that is solidly Mine. My old elementary school, my camp, the North Cascades ywam base, an apartment that doesn’t exist but has been featured in my dreams a lot. He’ll be in conversation with other people, but when he’s done, he’ll wait for me to approach him. And I always do. I usually yell at him, and he usually laughs at me, not in a mean way though. In a “this is all a misunderstanding” way. And something big and important always gets said or shown right before I wake up. First, it was talking about his girlfriend, and how I want to meet her, how we would be friends. The next time, I did meet her. The time after that, it was him saying that we could slowly work towards a friendship again. The most recent time, there was nothing huge. I made him laugh about something, but the biggest thing is, I felt like I felt in Pattaya. Fully comfortable with not just someone else, but myself, both in my friendship to him, and me as a whole. I haven’t felt like that in so long. This dream was Monday night. I woke up with him on my mind, not because of him, but because of that feeling. I didn’t know dreams could do that.
Do I crave him or do I crave who I was then or do I crave then? I can’t tell anymore. That’s what I wrote right after I woke up. I don’t crave him necessarily, not anymore. I don’t desperately want closure or a conversation anymore. I just regret that I lost the most precious human friendship I’ve ever gotten to experience. I have a hard time thinking that I’ll be able to find anything like that again, nor do I think I will ever open myself up enough for a friendship to actually mean much again. I miss that time, but it just gets that much more complicated when it comes to that, because he was so much of that time.
I don’t understand. But I know. And maybe that’s close enough to the same thing. I wrote that on the plane to Kansas, but I can’t remember what I specifically meant. Something about Trevor not wanting to hurt me like this, and God working or whatever. I don’t understand why he thinks that we can’t ever speak again. But I know that there must be a reason, he’s not someone who would do this for simple convenience, no matter how much I try to say otherwise, so maybe that’s close enough to understanding.
I was working on transferring my journal (when am I not, to be honest), and I’m so far behind, it’s still the first Sunday in Salem. That got me a long way down memory lane. The words that I was reading were written before I knew about his girlfriend, and before he came to Salem. Two things that very much affected me for the worse. I specifically honed in on what would have happened if I hadn’t told Mama Sarah that he was going to the base. Because he would have shown up on the base if she hadn’t intervened. He may not be malicious, but he is an absolute fool. I don’t have any idea of what would have happened. If Ethan hadn’t told me, I would have been completely surprised, and then I would have done something I would have either regretted or relished, depending on the end result. (Hugged him, started crying, yelled at him, or had Jo slash his Audi’s tires.) I think Jo-Ellen would have yelled at him, and he would be all confused, if his girlfriend had come, I would have SPED out of there bawling, and Ethan would just be standing there with comically large question marks floating above his head, and it would have been a disaster for all.
I don’t really get the privelee of dwelling on what ifs though, because there are so many of those, I could drown in them. What if I had never redownloaded tiktok, and seen those two specific videos as I was spiraling? (A song, and a tutorial for going ghost). What if I’d never said anything. What if I’d said something a long time before. It was a spiral that led to this end result though, and it sucks to see my thoughts about myself manifest themselves. I’ll never be able to stay friends with people. I ruin all things. All of the people I care about eventually leave. I am not worth fighting for. They all leave.
There had to have been a better way to handle this.
While I may be over him, not thinking about him (minus those damn dreams), I am by no means unscathed. Almost every aspect of myself has been torn top to bottom with his leaving and all the events that transpired after. I don’t trust people. I don’t make friends. I don’t have a relationship with God, or at least it is nowhere near where it should be. I don’t have confidence in my calling or future. I don’t know HOW to make friends, and that includes maintaining old friendships. I had been so good at getting in shape, and I have no motivation for that anymore (stopped the day he left, and I’ve never been able to pick it back up again, though not for lack of trying). I don’t have the words to help people who come to me. I wasted all of the first half of Advance. I did nothing worthwhile with that time.
And while those all seem like things I’m using him as an excuse for (and maybe that is a bit of it), I wasn’t struggling with any of that so potently before this. I don’t blame him. Not really. But was this really the only way? Surely this hurt more than anything him sticking around would have done.
I’ve had boys as an idol in my life for years. Did God remove Trevor not just to remove that specific idol, but to dismantle the idol of Boy in general? Maybe. Maybe not. Considering I have to force myself to pray every night, that walking in relationship with Jesus has felt/been impossible since. ThE dAy. “Oh it’s a journey, you’ll get there” I’m not getting there. I feel stuck. I’m not crying over him anymore, stuck on him anymore, just stuck in general.
Ok I’ve been given the “go to bed, it’s one in the morning” lecture from my grandma, so good night, merry Christmas, remember the reason for the season.
Rainy Ramblings 