A Friend Stopped Coming to Church and My Kids Noticed

A friend of mine stopped coming to church sometime this winter, and I can't tell you which Sunday it was, which bothers me more than the leaving does. I noticed she was gone the way you notice a lamp has been out for a while, all at once and long after the bulb went.

I'm going to write about her carefully, so you won't get her name or how long we've known each other or why she stopped. Some of that she's told me and it's hers. The rest I don't know and won't guess.

What do I tell my kids when they ask where her family went?

Caleb asked first, Tuesday at practice, with an orange slice in his cheek. "Are they in a different ward now?" It was a good question because an easy answer was sitting right there and I could have taken it, since people move wards all the time. I told him no, they live where they've always lived and they aren't coming to church right now. He asked if they were mad at somebody. I said I didn't think so. "Okay," he said, and went to find his glove, which is how Caleb closes most subjects.

Lily's question came at bedtime, and she wanted to know if our friend had stopped believing in God. I told her I didn't know what our friend believed, because she hasn't said it to me in those words and I haven't asked in those words, and that grown-ups sometimes spend a long time thinking about hard things where nobody can see. Lily thought about that and said, "Is she still nice?" She is exactly as nice as she was. "Then I don't get it," Lily said, and I told her I wasn't sure I did either.

That was the whole conversation both times.

I think it was the right size. I gave them what I knew and left out the theories, because a child will take a theory and build a house on it. If I'd said she was busy or struggling or tired, Lily would have something to repeat at recess, and I don't get to decide what's said about another family.

We keep two words out of our house, because "inactive" belongs on a roster and "fell away" is a verdict, and she's neither to me. She's the woman who lent me her glass punch bowl for Lily's baptism reception on June 27, and who sat in the back row on the aisle near the door and hugged Lily on her way out.

How do you stay her friend when church was where you saw her?

Eleven weeks went by before I texted her, and I'd like to say I called the first Monday, but I told myself that if she wanted me she knew where I lived, and mostly I didn't want to say the wrong thing. If you read what I wrote earlier this month about a ministering assignment that went nowhere for a year, you'll know I'm not new to this particular failing.

When I finally did text I left church out of it and sent a photo of Waffle standing on the trampoline, where the chickens aren't supposed to go. She wrote back inside a minute. A few weeks after that, she told me she'd assumed everyone in the ward had decided something about her and that I had probably decided it too. I said I hadn't decided anything and she said "okay" in a way that made me think she wasn't ready to believe it yet.

Somewhere in there I asked if she wanted me to stop bringing things by. She wrote, "Bring me what you'd bring anyone." I've thought about that more than almost anything anyone has said to me this year.

Here's what I do now.

I text about ordinary things. I don't ask when she's coming back, and I don't carry ward news over like bait. If we're doing something I'd invite her to anyway, I invite her. When she says no I say "next time" and mean it. Church was where we used to bump into each other. We have to arrange the rest on purpose now, which is more work. It turns out I'm glad to be doing it.

I'm still working on being easy with her instead of careful. She can tell the difference.

Does the commandment to love one another have a loophole?

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.

John 13:34-35

Consider the room when he says this, where Judas has just gone out into the night (verse 30). A few verses later Peter swears he'll lay down his life, and Jesus tells him how many times he'll deny it (verse 38). The people hearing "love one another" include one who has left and one who is about to fail, and nobody gets an exception clause. I don't think that was an accident, and afterward he found Peter on a beach and asked him three times whether he loved him (John 21:15-17).

Frequently Asked Questions

What if my child asks whether their friend is still a good person?

Yes, and say it fast so there's no pause for them to read. Going to church is something a person does and goodness is something a person is, and I'd want my kids to learn the difference from me.

Should I let my kids keep playing with her kids?

I do, and I'd skip the speech, since if I started steering my children around that family I'd be teaching them that church attendance is the price of admission to my attention, and I don't believe that. Worry is a different matter when a child is actually being hurt or led somewhere unsafe, but a difference in Sunday habits isn't that.

What do I say when someone at church asks if I've heard from her?

"Yes, we're in touch" and then change the subject. You aren't hiding anything. It just isn't yours to report, and the person asking is almost always more curious than concerned. I've said it a few times now and it gets easier.

What if I'm the one who's hurt, and she's pulled away from me too?

Then you're allowed to say so, once, plainly, and then give her room. I haven't had to do this yet, so I'd take advice from someone who has. My sister Hannah has, and what she says is to keep the door open and stop standing in it.

I'm taking the punch bowl back on Saturday after Caleb's game. I washed it twice in July and I'm not going to wash it a third time. I'll text first and I won't bring up church. If she says to leave it on the porch I'll leave it on the porch.

with love, Melissa