Choosing not to be fed

I sat alone in Sunday School, so alone that when someone finally sat down next to me instead of looking at me and sitting elsewhere, I was still unable to keep myself from running. Since I know better and should have done better, I excused myself by deciding I had to check on my sick teen at home--that was my reason to go home, to leave DH to bring the remaining littles home after the third hour of church. I could not bear another hour of such open, conspicuous aloneness.

Of course, going home changed nothing. I sat in my pity party. Thought of all the ways people and places have disappointed, all while seeing, in the back of my mind, the people I should have sat next to in Sunday School. How is it that we can get so alone that we can't reach out to anyone, even if that would help both of us?

And then, I find that the RS lesson I ran away from was on 'reaching out to those who feel alone.' Of course. If I had stayed, perhaps I could have been fed, healed, even just a little bit. But I chose to run away.

Having a Sunday calling helps me to stick at church. The words of the Sunday School teacher have echoed in my heart a lot this week. He expressed gratitude for the scripture study into which his calling forced him, and then lamented that he shouldn't need a calling to study the scriptures. I shouldn't need a calling to go to church, all of church. But some times I do.