Moving forward

Today was "The Sunday of the Myrrh-bearing Women," and while I wasn't able to go to church last night for Vigil, I did go to church this morning. I have gone to a few services this week, trying to fit in church around work. It was a very odd experience to hear the sermon focus on, basically, the idea that the Orthodox church is not misogynistic, especially given my recent experiences. And maybe the Church as a whole isn't, but there are definitely pockets of Orthodox who hate women, or at the very least see them as "lesser." And this place is one of those pockets.

On the plus side, I think that we have found a new house to move into. I will be very happy when I am out of here and away from the neighbors. I harbor no ill will toward them, but there's only so long that one can live next to someone who both hates them and has actively worked to harm them for months on end.

edit: I thought I posted this like a week ago, as short as it is, but apparently never did.

Holy Saturday and Pascha

Holy Saturday was a day of much-needed rest and relaxation for me. I spent time in the hotel room painting my fingernails and toenails, watching movies, and being with my husband and best friends. As the day wore on, I began to get very anxious and felt the need to get out. (This feeling of being trapped and needing to escape is a symptom of my PTSD, and when my stress levels get high, my symptoms get worse). I  eventually left the hotel alone and wandered down the street where I found a Goodwill Store. I bought a new outfit, which I wore to Pascha services that night, and then wandered around town some more. After a few hours, I made my way back to the hotel, where we all watched a bit more TV. Finally, it was time to go to church!

Pascha was wonderful, of course. The church wasn't packed full to the brim, and the music wasn't the most perfect, but that didn't matter at all.

At the meal afterward, I spent some time meeting new people, including the priest's father. He was a wonderful person who told me about his work with the military. At one point, I was sitting next to the priests' brother-in-law, who was holding his daughter. She turned toward me, sleepy but grinning, and I asked her if she had a good time and if she was going to get some food to eat. She just grinned and her father explained she was non-verbal. About a half-hour later, as I was walking around, she came up to me and took my hand and smiled at me. I knelt down on the floor and was talking to her and the other little kids, and she sat on my lap and smiled at me. It completely melted my heart!

The next day I was too excited to sleep in very late, so I got up around 9 and began packing up. We were able to get late check-out though so I spent the morning alternating lounging in bed with slowly packing up. On the drive home we stopped for lunch at a restaurant that had just opened (it was delicious!), then stopped for ice cream (Hooray for the end of the fast!) before finally making it back home.

The whole weekend was a really good time. I don't appreciate the circumstances surrounding our 'flight into Egypt' but I did appreciate the warm and loving reception that we received while we were there.

Holy Friday

The decision finally had to be made about where to go for Pascha, but every time I tried to think about going somewhere other than STS I felt like I was drowning again. I decided not to do the "stand outside the building" thing again, out of the fear of repercussion against my husband. I got a call in the morning from our friend, who offered to go with us to another state where we could all celebrate Pascha with friends there. We decided that we couldn't handle the trip, the practical side of things was too much, between needing to care for the dog and worry about our teen son. But we still needed to decide on a place to go.

In the afternoon, the priest from the church that my friend suggested we visit gave me a call. He urged me to bring my family to visit his parish, and assured me that we would be welcomed. As he has done every time I've ever talked to him, he immediately called me out on my bullshit ("We'll be fine here." "Will you really be fine? Because you don't sound like you will be."). After that call, DH and I decided that we would go, if my son was ok with the decision. Between everything that needed to be done we didn't leave until around 7 pm. When we got into the car, someone remarked that services were just about to start at STS. I remembered that someone had sent me a link to live stream from Holy Transfiguration, so I pulled it up on my phone and we were able to watch the last half-hour of their service as we drove. It was a wonderfully peaceful and reassuring way to begin a journey that was undertaken due to the most stressful of circumstances.

We arrived at the rectory around midnight. I was worried that we would be intruding because of the time, but the friends that we traveled with assured us that it would be fine. And it was! We walked into their house and there were children playing on the floor and adults milling about and things cooking on the stove. We met family members, and were offered hugs and introductions and a beer. It felt so wonderful and homey!

After spending some time visiting, we finally left to go to our hotel. Being exhausted, I completely unpacked and got ready for bed before checking our bed for bedbugs. Then, right as I was about to check the bed, there was a knock on the door. Our friend that we were travelling with had come to tell us that their room had bedbugs. Sure enough, our room did too. I packed all of my stuff up faster then I have ever packed in my life! We were given new rooms (which we THOROUGHLY inspected!) and in short order I was unpacked again.

While I was traveling, a friend was doing a Tenebrae service at STS. He recorded it and sent it to me. So while I write this, I am listening to that service. I wish I could have been there in person, but this is now the second time today when I am extremely grateful for the technology that allows me to participate in services even though I can't be there in person. This is also the second time today that I genuinely WANT to experience services, even though I can't be there in person. I am very much looking forward to my next time when I can be in my church, surrounded by my community. Until that can happen, I will look forward to tomorrow, when I can be in a church with people that love and care about me.

Holy Thursday

Standing outside the church tonight, bundled up tightly against the cold and hunched over a service book, I finally began to appreciate church. It's been a long time coming for me but I am stubborn. As much as I've tried to like going to church it's just never been a place that I really enjoyed. It's boring and uncomfortable, mostly. In November I stopped attending church entirely when the judgement and criticism became too much for me to bear. Last week, following a conversation with a priest, I decided to begin attending again. The services leading up to Palm Sunday were surprisingly positive for me, and Palm Sunday was amazing. I felt happy to be attending church again, and the support I received reinforced that positive feeling. 

On Monday I spent 8 hours at the VA hospital. Tuesday, my husband and I attended Hours and Presanctified Liturgy in the morning and Bridegroom Matins in the evening. Wednesday: Hours and Presanctified Liturgy again. Each time, I was surprised by my own eagerness to be there, and to participate. I did bring a prayer rope with me, and I spent some time allowing myself to be distracted by the many adorable children in the church. But I didn't feel the urge to check the time, or wonder how much longer the service would take. When I left church each time, I felt reinforced by our decision to stay at STS and I believed that being there would be a positive experience for Holy Week and Bright Week.

When we were home between services Wednesday my husband received a call from the Bishop. He was told that he was not to attend STS for services with his family until after Bright Week because our presence in church makes some people uncomfortable. In a follow-up conversation with the Abbot of the monastery, I was denied permission to attend service Wednesday because "my place is with my husband." 

I did not attend service Wednesday evening. In thinking about what to do for Thursday, I considered attending STS. In a conversation with a friend, I mentioned that I was considering it. By this point, I had received many suggestions about other churches to attend, and invitations from friends to come to their parishes. But every time I tried to think about where to go, other than STS, I was filled with a crippling sadness. This morning I decided to stay home. I wasn't sure what the reaction would be if I went to church, but I didn't want to cause a scene. Over the course of the day I decided to attend the 12 Gospels service at STS. As I was getting ready to go, I received a call from a friend: the Abbot had been told that I was planning on coming and he said that if I was seen in church my husband would be expelled from school. 

Of course, with that news I couldn't go. So I sat and felt sorry for myself. I felt like I had been thrown into a pit of despair. I tried to find the service online to watch or listen to, but I realized that was a poor substitute. Especially when I live only a mile away from the real thing! I have never felt real sadness about not being able to attend a service before. I've felt sad that I wouldn't be able to see friends, or hear certain hymns. And I've felt guilt at not attending a service in the past. But now, for the first time, I felt like I was being kept from something that I could not live without. I had to go. 

I got dressed again, putting on an extra sweater, scarf, arm warmers, and warm socks, and ran out. I wouldn't be seen in the church, but I needed to be there. When I got there, a friend gave me a service book to use. I spent a few minutes walking around outside the church, trying to hear, until I remembered that one of the windows on the other side never really closes all the way. I went around to that side and found that by standing next to the window I could hear nearly everything. I felt like a beggar, happy to receive the crumbs from the feast! 

The service was long (3 hours). It was cold (35 degrees). When the sun went down, I struggled with using the light from my phone to light my service book so I could follow along. When the children inside made noises, it totally drowned out the service and I lost my place. But I was happy to be there. And I was a little angry at myself that I have always taken utterly for granted that the church will always be there - open and available to me. I hope and pray that I will never again take it for granted.