An unexpected trigger

I haven't talked about painful "triggers" in quite a while. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that means that healing has truly begun and things that once brought us tremendous pain -- i.e., merely stepping foot in a church -- aren't serving as triggers any more. Maybe, though, they are still there (to some extent), but now so many other serious things have come to the forefront which demand more attention.

Yes, I do think they are still there, though certainly involving far less pain and anguish than before. Not only are we now regularly going to church, but I have officially joined and our kids' baptismal records have found a new home. And we are slowly getting involved. I have been asked to serve as a scribe of sorts, to sit in on a meeting of the worship committee (I think) and write down a cohesive mission, or vision, statement out of their brain-storming. Don agreed to play his guitar during a service a few weeks ago and looks forward to being a part of the worship team. He even said to me (gasp!) that he felt so renewed, so energized -- just by being up front -- that he is starting to really long for a chance to do some preaching again! That was a huge surprise. My ever-cautious self says, "No! It's way too early! Just ease in -- don't push it!" but then that's Don ... jumping in with both barrels. That's OK.

Sure, some of the anxiety is still there. For me personally, I was recently asked to be a part of the hospitality team, getting stuff ready for coffee hour after the service -- a simple, once-a-month commitment. For some reason I balked at that and felt that strange, almost inexplicable fear start to surge. Maybe too much involvement? I'm not sure.

These are things that we're working through, and pushing forward, thinking things are going well. But then there's little Aidan. He loves Kids Church, he absolutely adores Miss Christy (his Sunday School teacher), and he's starting to make friends with Caleb and Henry and Anneke. All is well, right?

Ahhh ... enter the trigger. I mentioned it earlier -- Don played the guitar two weeks ago during the service. He had to leave early that morning, so I gave Aidan a heads-up so he would know what's going on. To my utter surprise he completely freaked out. Just thinking he was cranky from a late night and too-early morning, I pretty much ignored him. "But Daddy has to sit with us!" he kept insisting. He will, Aidan, as soon as the songs are finished he'll sit back down with us, I assured him. It's no big deal!

Oh, but it was a big deal for him -- bigger than I realized. When we got to church and picked our seats, Aidan took one look at Daddy up there practicing with the other musicians and a look of utter dread washed over his face. I could see he was fighting hard not to cry, but finally the tears started rolling. Admittedly, by this point I was getting a little annoyed. I was happy Don was doing this -- to me, this was very, very positive and healing. Why the heck was he making such a big deal out of nothing? But he kept at, and then started to become completely belligerent ... and that's when I knew something was up. I looked at him -- I mean, really looked at him -- and calmly asked him what was wrong. "Daddy has to sit with us!" he insisted again. OK, I know that ... but why?

"Because it's not safe. He has to sit with us. It's not safe for him up there."

Oh, man ... He sees these baby steps back toward Daddy-the-Preacher, and he feels fear. He associates Daddy's "old job, working for God" (his words) as a bad thing, a thing that brings hurt and sadness and pain. He was happy when Don got his new job -- that means he's free on Sundays and can sit with us. Safety, security, wholeness. But now Daddy's back up there -- not preaching yet, but it's a step. And our little guy is terrified.

I did my best to console him, to reassure him -- "See, buddy, Daddy's smiling! He's happy up there! It's really OK!" I'm not sure if he bought it. I know when the music was over and Don headed down toward our seats, Aidan finally smiled ... and ran halfway down the aisle to meet him with open arms as only a four-year-old can do. I don't know what's going to happen this Sunday, when Don not only plays guitar again but will also sing a solo, a beautiful song that he composed several years ago. I guess we'll just have to address this each time it comes up. My heart just breaks at what he's going through, and how he processes things. I feel intense anger once again tat those who inflicted this upon our family, wondering if they know -- or care -- the damage they've done not just to adults, but to a little boy too. My prayer is that with each baby step forward, Aidan too will see that everything is OK ... and once again he'll love seeing his Daddy up front, with no fear attached.