Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know all the angst I went through as the little church I used to go to was closed down. That was in March with the last service being on March 19th. The following week I went in the other direction to St Christophers which is in the next suburb to the one I live in. This is an easy access church, lots of parking, all on one level, with a ramp into the hall and good toilets etc so ideal in many ways. We go to a 9.30am service which is an hour long and followed by a cup of tea or coffee in the hall. About twenty or so stay for that, mostly 70 - 80 year olds and mostly women on their own who may or may not be widows. It is a very normal scenario in churches now.

Ray and I and a friend also go to Craft group on Tuesday afternoons. There are about fifteen ladies there usually, maybe 20 - 25 all up but never all there at once. They range in ages from a couple of people younger than me to a lady who will celebrate her 99th birthday next week. They are nice women who smile and talk a little while we are there. But that is the extent of the friendship so far.

But the whole truth is I don't feel at home there. I don't know why I don't, I just don't. Which leaves me with a dilemma. I cannot resurrect our old situation, the church is closed, the people scattered. I could go to the other church in that parish but the access is impossible, the toilets cramped and unsuitable and I don't think that has much merit. Or I could change again, make a new decision. But I don't really want to do any of that. I think the discontent is in me. I am still grieving for something that has gone and unwilling to make the moves required to be happy where I find myself now.

Is it a lot to ask, to find a church I am happy with? I don't think that I am a discontented person by nature. I know that I am dragging a lot of baggage with me. Ray, for instance, is not your go-anywhere person. He has special needs. I cannot go to a 7am service with him, or a 6pm one in the middle of winter. I can't take him where there is a hill to climb, where the toilets are on the next floor, around the back or down a narrow corridor. He needs speedy access to the toilets sometimes. Even with the padded underwear.

I know you will be thinking that like stroke recovery there is time for things to improve. I agree. Six months more down the track and I might be as happy as I used to be at our old church. I might be singing the praises of the choir, the supper club or the carers group, none of which they have right now. I know that if I want a group to serve my needs I could actually start one. And if I felt a little more at home that is probably what I would do.

But at the moment I need to quote Shakespeare and say:"Now is the Winter of our Discontent" and feel sorry for myself.

Tomorrow will no doubt be another day, and next Sunday someone might come up and offer the hand of friendship and genuinely mean it and I will feel much better. I hope so. :chat: