whispered wind and cracked cement

I went to church the first few weeks when we  into our new home.  Then I felt it was time to stop going.

I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood, besides the few people who said hi when we moved in and helped, and I had no friends nearby.

That first week, two members of the bishopric came and said hi.  And the relief society president brought us a meal when we were sick soon after we moved in.

We were never visited by our brother ministers or my sister ministers or any other contact by the relief society or members of the ward.

It was a blessing and…it was so hard.  I felt so alone, unseen, and that I didn’t matter.

People can say, but you’re the one that stepped away from church so it’s your fault.

That part is true.  But aren’t we all a community, a family?  And why didn’t they visit at all?

I even went to some ward activities where no one talked to me and it was so lonely I stopped going after a few years.

I know that everyone is busy and has trials we don’t see.  I’m not judging or blaming anyone for not saying hi to me.  But it felt like abandonment from the ward family when I was needing companionship and friendship.

It also taught me how to be alone and although painful, there were a lot of good lessons, even though the circumstances weren’t ideal.