Kelly

"I've wanted to call you so many times this past year," she said. "How are you?" I asked. "Terrible," she responded.

Kelly joined the church about 5 years ago, after a health & evangelism series of meetings held by one of our more conservative congregations. She threw herself fanatically into the new things she'd learned, but outside of church walls still struggled with a drug and alcohol addiction. She joined the before-church cell group I attended, and from the word go was a bird of a different feather. Everyone else dressed up for church - she turned up in jeans that smelt like the last cigarette she'd had on the way there. We all put on our happy church faces - she swore over the hard week she was having. We sang - she sat silent.

Yet on some level we connected. The cell group did what they could to help her, and she stuck around longer than I did.

A few months ago I ran into her at a school function. She was avoiding someone from the cell group. She was angry with her, for a reason I could never discover.

And this weekend she told me she left the group a year ago. She never wants to see "those people" again, and will do anything it takes to avoid running into them. She's attending one of the other congregations, but it's only pew-warming. No-one seems to notice that she's going through hell. No-one cares.

She knows I left, and she knows I can relate to her view. Although I have no experience with drug addiction and so many of her other struggles, I do know all about wanting out of a church, about hurt and a lack of support, about struggling and searching. When I left, no-one checked up on me either. I guess that's what happens to "backsliders"...

We're peas in a pod in some ways. She's seen something of her in me, something she wants to - needs to - connect with.

There's a part of me that wants to be the expert, to take over aspects of her life and guide her - help her clean the house that's bothering her, take control of her time and organization, give her coping mechanisms to enable her to take a deep breath every now and then, go chasing after all those nasty people who owe her money. There's a pretty overbearing part of me that wants to state "I have the answer/s!".

But there's a part of me that says "who the hell do you think you are?" - a part that says I'm no expert and perhaps what she needs now is just a shoulder to lean on, someone who will be there when she falls, who will check in on her and see how her day is going, who will pray for her and love her unconditionally.

I've got to fight the controlling me and bring the loving me to the fore. And whatever I do, I can't forget her. I get the feeling this is a life-or-death spiritual struggle, and if I'm her only lifeline I can't let go.

I'm checking in with her today, and instead of mouthing off on what I think she should do, I'm just going to listen.