For years when I was in the church all I wanted was to escape. I joined the last church group we were at because I was offered a cleaning job and I needed to do something to build up my resume.
So I took it, and for years I did the work I felt I was called to do. I served meals, got people into recovery programs, or set up with a housing or support worker. I did my job.
For decades we gave out thousands of dollars in new toys, clothing, and other gifts to help people get through the winter months. “I did my job. I did what I was called to do.”
But the one thing I never got to do through all those years and decades was celebrate Christmas at home with my family. After my grandpa died, we stopped doing Christmas dinners with the family, and it became all about the church.
And my grandmother loved it, she loved coming to the dinners and seeing the kids get their presents, and even though she and my aunt weren’t a part of the church, they were a part of our community and everyone knew when Grandma Hall was in the building.
It was great, and full, filled with giving, love, laughter, joy, and all the things that Christmas is supposed to be filled with.
But by the end of the day in the later years, we were just too tired to do a Christmas dinner together, and so we never really got to build that good energy bridge that helped us get through the dark times.
And when Grandma died we were no longer a part of the church or the system, and so it was just our little family.
This year will be the first year we’ll be celebrating in our own apartment, in more than twenty years. I am excited. I can’t help it. I’m looking forward to mom’s cooking, to having my aunt my brother, and a small group of select friends come over to eat and meet each other, and I am mostly excited to watch football with my brother. Whom I haven’t seen in about three years.
I am excited to spend time with my family, and you know what? I’m even excited to not have to share my family with anyone else.
For decades my family was everyone else’s family, and I rarely got to just hug them or kiss them or spend time hearing their stories because we were so busy helping everyone else. I don’t resent the time I lost with them but I am not crying about not being in the church anymore either.
The post I wrote before this one, which I haven’t posted, is filled with stories of abuse in and out of the church but mostly inside the church, mostly because of my association with the church, and not the last one, but previous ones.
My experiences in the church in Alberta were vastly more difficult than my church experiences in BC, but there was still so much toxicity that I am genuinely glad that I escaped unscathed, more than I already am.
I am excited to spend the holiday celebrating life, because there has been so much death, and to be honest it’s the first thing I’ve been truly excited about in years.
I hope for those of you reading this, you have a truly wonderful holiday. I think that we all deserve that after everything we’ve been through.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall,
The Loud Mouth Brown Girl
Loud Mouth Brown Girl 