You Can’t Put a Price on Finding Home

Growing up in the household of a Dutch Reformed Church pastor and a social worker, Church has always been present in my life as far back as I can remember. I wish I could say my faith life has always been smooth and that everything just goes according to plan, but the truth is that there are still occasionally days where I feel “Lord have you decided to not tune in and skip today’s episode of Days of Our Lives?”

Such was the case at the turn of 2023/24. My annus horribilis—as Queen Elizabeth would have coined it. An absolutely horrible year. One could say that this time in my life when the clouds came rolling in, it was a major hurricane and not a small passing storm. Within the span of six weeks, I experienced three significant losses in my life:

1)  The loss of a marriage and relationship when my husband called it quits and wanted a divorce.

2) The loss of my mother and last living parent after a battle with pancreatic cancer.

3) The loss of a job and a major part of my identity and community when I left the Catholic Church and my previous place of employment as Director of Music for a large Catholic Cathedral.

Needless to say, the experience of three major losses in rapid succession during such a short time frame left a scar on my soul. Over time, the wound would heal, but the scar remains–a reminder of the trauma of that experience. At that time, I did as I have done so many times before when depression sinks in: I hunkered down, mostly stayed in bed, and pretty much ate nothing but rice and beans for a week. Simply because I did not have the energy to cook, nor the appetite to really eat and I pretty much also lost the will to live. Friends would call and text, constantly checking in. Concerned. Sometimes annoyingly so. After a week of staying in my proverbial “dark cave,” I forced myself to get up, shave, and begin the task of dealing with the depression head-on and rebuilding my life. There simply was no time to grieve the loss of my mother or the loss of my marriage/relationship. The first task at hand was the need for a fresh start and finding a new place of employment and community. As my search began, one thing was for certain: in addition to being a church that values music of a high calibre, it also needed to be a place of welcome and inclusion for ALL, absolutely no exceptions.

Job searches and interviews are like first dates, and my “date” with Christ Church Cranbrook stood out. It took place the second weekend in June of 2024. By all accounts, it was a busy weekend with Evensong on Saturday—with the fantastic choir transporting me to heaven singing the Collegium Regale Evening Service by Herbert Howells, and on Sunday morning I was a regular person in the pews when Bishop Bonnie visited for Confirmations, in addition to it being the Pride Service.

Hearing and working with the choir, experiencing the welcome, and witnessing the outreach and variety of ministries from the people in this community made me realize that Christ Church Cranbrook is pretty special and the place I needed to be. Some of my friends and colleagues argued that going from being Director of Music at a metropolitan cathedral and running a large music program to being Associate Director of Music might be backpedaling career-wise, and that I should perhaps wait for a better “date”. I knew better: you cannot put a price tag on mental health and finding the right community. Being at a place where the people and the staff care for one another is worth way more than a specific job title or where you fall on a flow chart.

Two years later, I have been proven right: Christ Church Cranbrook is where I have been afforded the space to do the work of grieving, and more importantly, have experienced the healing that comes after the work of grieving. Being surrounded with love and support from new friends and an incredible and caring staff has been a profound blessing, and has confirmed why my decision to come to Christ Church Cranbrook was absolutely one of the best life decisions I have made.

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