This Sunday we went back to our roots so to speak. We went back to the church where "we" became a "we". It's been eleven years since I've been to that church and I have to say, it felt just like going home. Let me backup a little bit. Chris and I met at Northstar church. That shy, yet insanely confident in himself guy, stalked me until I was his. And then right before we got married, Chris took a job as a student pastor at another church. And so our ministry marriage began, and remained (through various churches and positions) until a year ago this month.
This past year has been an interesting transition for us to say the least. It's been super hard finding our identity outside of a church staff role. Like really hard.
Equally hard has been finding a church for us to attend and get plugged into. We had been attending one for a while, but it wasn't quite right for us. So last weekend, we were having the "we've GOT to find a church" talk, and I suggested going back to Northstar, where it all began. There is so much history for me at this church and I just well up with tears every time I think of going back. That's gotta mean something right?
So this Sunday, we went. It was nostalgic and new all at the same time. We have been craving a small group and this Sunday they just so happened to launch the sign ups for them. Hmm. We signed up by the way. But after the service, we went and said hey to the pastor (whose basement we went to small group in while we were dating) and he instantly remembered us. That meant the world to me...that eleven years later and hundreds of people later, he remembered. And not just us from the basement, but that I used to intern there. I don't know how to explain it, but it was exactly what my heart needed. People always remember Chris, but it's not often that I am the one remembered too.
All that to say, it's good to be home. And we've learned that more than anything in this past year - sometimes it's just time to go home.