This week, Rick was contacted to fill in for a local pastor who was going to go on vacation. He wanted us to come visit the church today, and wanted us to lead the singing. He had been serving as the "interim" pastor of this little church since February.
So this morning we traipsed down the street to a tiny brick building here in North Ruralville.
We were greeted warmly at the door by the five or six senior citizen members of the church. The sanctuary was tiny, almost suffocating in its minisculity. The interim pastor, whose horrible hairpiece made me look away instantly, spoke to us as if we were the immediate answer to the church's need for a permanent pastor.
We "led the singing," as it were; it's always fun to play, but I almost hated to do it because I felt like a June bug being pounced upon by hungry ducks. The people practically begged us to stay, and all I could do was smile demurely and try to extricate myself from the tarpit.
We came home for lunch, and during my afternoon nap I had a horrible nightmare. I was at school, but nothing was right. My classroom was the same, but my green wall had been painted back to plain white, and different students were showing up -- students who didn't belong, even students who weren't the right age. I went out into the hallways and they had been painted a different color. Many of the students in my classroom were being extremely disruptive, and there weren't enough desks for all of them. I went into the teacher workroom to look for help, and it was completely different. The principal and the secretaries and the registrar were all in there, and I asked them if this room had always looked this way. They laughed at me and said, "Duh, yes." I realized right then that I was having a psychotic episode and that I was going insane, and I felt this overwhelming sense of panic and fear.
Rick came into the room and woke me up. "It's five o'clock," he said.
Have you ever had such a vivid dream/nightmare that you just couldn't shake the feeling even after you woke up? That's how I've felt all evening. We went back to the Tiny Church this evening, and were once again enveloped in suffocating desperation.
I'm sure that Joseph (from the book of Genesis) didn't enjoy being thrown into prison in Egypt, and probably felt as though he were being punished for something he hadn't done. I'm feeling the same way right now. Surely this isn't where we're supposed to be. Oh please, God, not this. I know I told You I'd do whatever You asked, but surely You're not asking us to do THIS.