Well, I've written my resignation letter. It's been brewing in my mind for a long time. I decided to take A's and D's advice and be as brief as possible; because if they have not already heard me, they will not hear me now either. I spent a couple of hours on it, let A review it, revised it a bit, and then sent it on to E for proofreading. Even after 30 years of speaking German, I still find writing it correctly an iffy thing. E responded with corrections which were helpful, so it's now pretty much in its final form, though I don't plan to send it until Friday.
And ever since, I've been depressed.
I know it's the culmination of many months, if not many years, of process. I know it's the right thing to do, if only for the sake of my health, because staying here quite literally has the potential to kill me. But I also know this will be misunderstood and harshly judged (behind my back; the questions people genuinely have they will ask of each other and not of me, because that's the way it's done in Austria). People will feel offended and hurt by my "sudden" decision, and speculate --yet again -- about me. Though a few will be secretly relieved that, by studiously ignoring the issues I've challenged them on long enough, the problem has taken care of itself (ergo, I will henceforth be out of their hair), most will be clueless as to why this move is necessary-- no matter how much I explain it.
A bit of advice: when someone enthusiastically announces you are a "forerunner" and your life is "prophetic" (or, as in my case, these are things you've heard regularly) --don't get too excited. In my experience that generally means a lonely journey several steps ahead of (or aside from) where most other people are at. And by the time they have moved into that place, you're off again somewhere else new, so you will often be misunderstood and misinterpreted by all but a few fellow "forerunners".
So... at the moment I have no energy to tackle all the after-wedding duties that have awaited my return from honeymoon: thank-you cards, organization, etc. I feel slightly nauseous, have not much appetite but have been eating for something to do. What I'd really like to do is cry, cry, cry and then sleep, sleep, sleep ...but I know by bitter experience how very much I will regret the exhaustion and having eyes like Jabba the Hutt for the entire following day.
God is patiently waiting for me to just let it ALL go. And I have done my best, over and over, for many months, and each time something more has been released-- yet I still find more I'm hanging onto. I currently identify strongly with these lines from an old worship song, "Surrender":
I'm giving you my dreams, I'm laying down my rights,
I'm giving up my pride for the promise of new life.
This has been a difficult process, partly because I have always had a strong sense of righteousness and injustice, and I know very well that "they owe me", whether they can ever see that or not. But I also know that as long as I cling to the right to be heard, the right to be valued, the right to recompense, even the right to have it acknowledged that these are RIGHTS, not privileges, I am laying down... I'm blinded to the good in my life that is the way out of resentment. And I block the way into the "new life" I've been amazingly offered the chance to have-- growing old with someone I love, who loves me.
My constant prayer, and I include myself in it, is, "Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing."
My mind screams: BUT THEY MUST KNOW-- THEY HAVE BEEN TOLD OFTEN ENOUGH! Yet my heart knows this is the only way.
That doesn't make it easy.
My hope is that being separated from the source of aggrievement will help me loose it all. When P was having his relationship and we were living in the same house, I first distanced myself emotionally (for example, P wanted to talk about his relationship with X all the time and I refused to be his sounding board for something that hurt me personally). Then I moved out of the bedroom; but that wasn't until half a year had gone by. By the time another half year had gone by, I was ill from the constant stress and HAD to move out-- and was judged for it.
But distancing myself from the constant rubbing of salt in my wounds did help me start to heal. I can't expect people to know, or even be interested in hearing, my story, unless they love me enough to ask-- which most simply didn't. And if they don't love me to that degree, one cannot force love, so one cannot force being heard.
I tried that, both in my marriage and in the church, and believe me it does not work. A quote that carried me through some of the hardest times was from Bill Johnson: "My influence with you is only as great as the honor you have for me. Any attempt to go beyond that leads to manipulation and control." Not wanting to manipulate and control (as I observed P doing), I simply had to conclude after several tactics that despite their fondness for me I have no actual influence with this group of people. It's almost moot why-- it isn't there, so I was wasting my breath.
In the letter I have assured the leaders that I plan to continue the genuine friendships I do have within the fellowship, and that if any of them feel the need to talk with me, my door is open. But I will be initiating no more conversations with them; if they value my input, they may ask for it, and I will be happy to give it. This sounds so harsh, but it is the only reality I can live with. I love these people, but I no longer have the strength to beat my head against a brick wall.
In more than one sense, I resign.
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