Today marks seven years since we moved into this house. And never have I felt more of a battle for hope.
We moved in full of faith and dreams and plans. We were a 'family on a mission'. It was thrilling to see long-held dreams being fulfilled in front of our eyes. Setting up Hope at Home was a faith adventure for all of us.
Seven years on, I feel battle-scarred, exhausted, hopeless and full of crushing disappointment. We've certainly seen some of our dreams become reality, but my home now feels one of the most hopeless places. Ironic, isn't it?
When we moved in, our boys were 13, 11 and 7. We had no idea that the tidal wave of teen-years was about to hit us, devastating and re-configuring the landscape of our family, our parenting, our faith and our expectations.
Call me naive but as a christian Mum, I didn't expect to have to navigate sexual activity, drug use, school exclusions, seeing my child thrown and handcuffed by the police, suicidal ideation and violence. I've lost my 'family on a mission'. I've had to completely change my parenting style and it doesn't 'fit' with the christian parenting books. How many other christian parents do you know who sit round a fire chatting with their weed-smoking kids or making sure they have condoms because they're not quite ready to be grandparents? Yeah, I'm that Mum. And I never expected to be.
I've also lost my church family. I'm wandering in a lonely wilderness of never quite fitting. As someone who was always right in the middle of church life, I'm now hovering on the edge. My feelings about the wider church have shocked me. The disappointment of battling every single day to engage churches with Hope at Home has caused me to almost completely disengage. My theology has changed too. I just don't believe the same things anymore.
And the strangeness of a church meeting with its rows of chairs and stages and lights and bands just doesn't seem to match my day to day life. Instead of prayer meetings and bible studies, my house is constantly full of cannabis-smoking, alcohol-drinking, swearing but beautiful teenagers. I can't compute how this fits with church.
The sign on our front door includes this bible verse:
'Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.' Hebrews 11:1
I'm in the 'not seeing' stage. How can I be certain that things are going to be different?
And this is surely where the reality of faith gets down and dirty.
The questions are more numerous than the answers.
Do I still believe change is possible in the wider church? Do I still believe that hearts will be changed to be inclusive, welcoming, humble and hospitable? Do I believe that the church can accept us; bruised, battered, tattooed, swearing and needing fag-breaks? More than ever, I am finding Jesus in the rubble of my life. Can I believe that Jesus is found in the church too?
Do I still believe that my boys will have a strong, life-changing and world-changing faith? Will they find, eventually, that Jesus satisfies more than anything or anyone else? Will he be their pearl of great price? Can I be certain of what I don't currently see?
So, I do the small things. I get out of bed. I eat my breakfast, I put one foot in front of the other. I sit at my computer and try to find homes for people who need them. I keep chatting with and laughing with and loving my boys.
There's nothing left now other than to keep believing.
And I guess this is faith.
