Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

 2 Corinthians 1:2-4 (NIV)

A STEP OF FAITH

It was raining that Sunday morning and the drops outside my windshield matched the sorrow in my soul. I was on my way to church, but I was not heading to the place of worship where my husband, Ron, and I had raised our children and spent most of our married lives. After my husband’s death a year before, I had found no comfort in the church where we had both taught Sunday School, where I had served as Awana Commander, where Ron had been a trustee, and where we had dedicated our three children to God.

As I drove down Philadelphia Pike, trying to keep resentment from my heart, I reminded myself we had not done those things for the church building, but for God. And if the congregation did not know how to address the needs of a new widow, then I had every right to seek solace in another community. I had no idea where I would find it, so I let God lead me.

There were, on that rainy Sunday morning, two notions in my head. One was a ministry that had existed several years ago called Angel Food, a non-profit organization that provided groceries to those in need at a reasonable price. The second notion was my husband’s voice, echoing his idea that, “That seems like a nice little church” whenever we passed the stone building in Claymont.

Prodded by those two thoughts, I pulled into the parking lot at The Atonement Methodist Church.

5 For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. 6 If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer.

2 Corinthians 1:5-6 (NIV)

NEW BUT FAMILIAR

I entered the building a bit warily, only passingly familiar with Methodism from the times my paternal grandmother would take my brother and I to Sunday School. But the building was warm and friendly, and I was greeted with equal warmth. I made my way into the sanctuary, uplifted by stray rays of light emerging through the stained glass windows. Raised as a Catholic by my mother, the colorful displays of Jesus were familiar to me. I took a seat in the back.

Alright, I said inwardly to my husband, let’s see if this really is a nice little church.

Several women seated near me offered their names and a smile. One moved over in the pew and asked me to join her. This is nice, I thought. Since my best friend had moved last year, six months after Ron’s death, I had sat alone in the pew, despite reaching out to several women including the Women’s Ministry Leader.

The organ began to play the prelude and I felt myself drawn back again to Grandmom’s church where the pipe organ’s notes cascaded through the room. This felt good, I realized. This felt right.

It wasn’t too much longer before a gentle woman with gray hair slid into the pew next to me. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Pastor Amy. What brings you to our church today?”

And I found myself telling her, this kind but veritable stranger, how I had been widowed and feeling lonely and a bit lost. How the church where my husband and I had served for so many years didn’t seem to quite know what to do with me. How, when I asked the minister, I was told it was because of the COVID pandemic.

“Nonsense,” said Pastor Amy. “You are still a widow in need. I  hope you find comfort here.”

And I did, returning the next week with my autistic adult son who could not take the sensory overload of blinking screens and loud drums on the stage, but could settle in quietly next to me and spend time in worship.

 7 And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

2 Corinthians 1: 7 (NIV)

THE RIGHT PATH

Three years later, and Allen and I have been embraced by the people of Atonement. We have found comfort; we have found ministries; we have found friends. It was not easy, but I dared to step into a new life as a widow with a disabled son; God led me to the doors of a “nice little church” where my writing ministry has continued to blossom.

Undertaking a new path and allowing God–and my husband!–to lead me was not easy. But as Atonement Methodist enters into a new phase, I know we are on the right path.