Carson and I didn't make it to Church of the Redeemer last weekend because some idiot in the apartment building across the street was playing the drums on his balcony until all hours of the morning and I barely slept. So we all went as a family this weekend. It was great. There weren't very many kids there, but this is a long weekend in Canada (just because, sort of like a bank holiday in the U.K.) but there were a lot of young people (by this I mean our age) there. There was a woman with green hair, another with a tattoo on the back of her neck, a woman in the choir (vocal group?) was drinking a coffee, and we were appropriately dressed in our jeans. I thought "this is the place for me." ;) More importantly, they seem to have a healthy community and I really, really liked the sermon. The rector (they call him the incumbent - anyone care to explain the difference?) gave the sermon sans pulpit and sans notes. He made us laugh with a story about his daughter, and then related it to scripture. And yes, of course I was making comparisons, but he stood up pretty well, and that's saying something.
The music was good. They use a more modern hymn book, Gather, and we were lead by organ (not overbearing like the one at the other church that gave us headaches) and a guitar. The final hymn was African and everyone was really getting into it.
It's too early to know for sure, but I think this is it. Carl said I had that look in my eye, and he liked it too. So I was on a high when we left, but I haven't been able to sleep tonight (it's 5 a.m. now and I decided to do some laundry instead of tossing and turning) because I've been thinking about my old life. I just don't know how to get past this. It still hurts so badly. I mean, most of the time I am so glad to be here. I love Toronto, I really do. And our families and friends here too, of course. But sometimes I feel like I'm just having a really long dream and I'm going to wake up and be back in California. I know I haven't been great at communicating with my friends there, and I'm sorry. Getting behind on email is not intentional, but I think maybe it's a subconscious form of self-preservation. I miss you and think about you all the time. Too much. I have to move past this period of mourning. I'm still satisfied with my decision to not go to California in July, but now I'm wondering when, if ever, I'll get to go back. And that hurts.
Anyway. Sorry for being so... well, maudlin. Things always seem worse when you've had no sleep.