It took a long time to settle into my life in Maryland. The one thing that I struggled to find was a church to call home. Having only rediscovered my faith less than a year before moving, it was all too easy to let that part of myself fade into the background when I moved. As of late however the ache in my heart had begun to return. I am not sure how to describe it, but the closest thing I can relate it to is homesickness. I needed a place I could seek solace and peace from a hectic world. I needed a quiet retreat for contemplation and healing. Despite this yearning and ache within my heart, I was afraid. I was afraid that I would never again find a church to call my own that felt as special as St. Thomas had. After Easter of 2023, my last time trying before this past Sunday, I was certain I’d feel empty indefinitely. However, with the help of my therapist, friends, and wonderful husband, I bucked up the courage to go to 1 more church.
Out in the countryside just west of South Mountain lies a little town called Smithsburg. It isn’t far from my home as I live closer to the outskirts of Hagerstown. In Smithsburg sits a tiny church, no larger than a chapel in truth, St. Anne’s Episcopal Church. I walked in and it felt like home. I wasn’t lost in a sea of bodies. I didn’t feel out of place. I finally found a church to call home.
Out of everything that I carried away from attending the service on Sunday, I find that I am still contemplating the sermon. A sermon on the importance of rest. It was rather appropriate given my predilection to avoid rest even when I am supposed to rest per doctor’s orders. Perhaps this is why mother has always said that I remind her of Martha, the sister of Mary and Lazarus. The woman who could not sit and rest because she felt obligated to complete certain tasks and expected her sibling to do so as well. I really am like that I fear. I always have allowed the weight of my obligations to prevent me from sitting still, resting, and finding peace being in the presence of the Lord. In truth growing up the very act of attending church felt like an obligatory weekly commitment where I knew, for appearances sake, I needed to fulfil certain obligations and take care of various tasks. It was nothing more than a chore to help out people I was under the impression found me distasteful, disappointing, and every other criticism one can come up with to crush a teenagers spirit. It was never the place of peace for me. That changed when I found St. Thomas and now again at St. Anne’s. It is my hope that as I let my faith seep back into my life I begin to unlearn the habits of Martha. I don’t need to always be productive. I do not need to work so hard that I neglect myself. My work will still be there and I will still accomplish it to the best of my capabilities, but I must not make it my entire focus. Rest, contemplation, meditation, prayer, however you wish to describe the time you take to look after your internal well-being, is just as important if not more so than the tasks you feel obligated to complete. This is the lesson I am beginning to learn. Until I can say with confidence I have unlearned all my habits, I will still be actively learning this lesson.