broken heart

I don't think I have ever experienced such a stressful Sunday as I did this past one. Our youth group had such a blast in Rockport on Saturday, so naturally, I was pooped. But for some reason, perhaps the subconscious knowledge of the up and coming fellowship night, I found myself crying for almost the entire day. I woke up feeling fine, a little tired, but normal. I didn't go to Sunday school, because I knew I wouldn't make it after the exciting previous day. So I showed up on time (for once) for the morning service, sat down in my family's usual pew, next to my beloved dad. Nothing was wrong until it came time to sing. I opened my mouth to utter the words and sing the melodies, but I couldn't. Every time I tried, a rush of sadness came over me. All I could do was stand there, listening to my dad sing so beautifully, feeling guilty because I could not sing, and fighting back the flow of tears. I gave my best effort to not let it show on my face, for fear of people asking me what was wrong and me having no answer. After the service, the teens had to practice for the song that we didn't really feel like singing that night, because we all felt it was not a "singing occasion." That afternoon, after I thought I had regained my normal composure, my dad mentioned to me that he wanted to have a "father-daughter talk" and consequently invited me to join him on an errand. So my dad and I talked about next year, again, and weighed the pros and cons of going away or staying home. We, or I should say I didn't reach a conclusion, but the stress that I felt from the conversation did me in. I have been fighting my emotions on the subject of next year, but Sunday was my breaking point. My emotions had had enough of being subdued. I tried hard to hide it, so I ran up to my room and cried on my bed. I then seriously considered skipping church and simply telling Mr. Sparkman that I couldn't sing, but I knew I couldn't let my friends down. So I went, and sang, and somehow made it through. That is, until Pastor Willett started talking about how much everyone would miss seeing the Fentons every week, especially Anna and Jackson. Then I took one look at the two beautiful kids, and began to cry. Everyone else in the church was crying by this point as well. After the service, most everybody went out to get some food, but Cassie and I remained and talked. Gradually, all the teens made their way back into the sanctuary, so it was just us. Then Lael made his rounds and hugged and talked with each one of us, then all of us together. As I looked around at each teen, my heart was smashed into a million pieces. I couldn't bear it. I love them all so very much...there are no words for what I feel. My heart just breaks. The teens are more than just my youth group.....they are my dearest and closest friends, and I don't know what I would do without them. I am trusting God, not only for continuing the ministries that Lael took on, but also to pick up each individual piece of my heart and somehow piece it back to what it once was. I pray that He will do it, because I cannot. And I pray that God will keep my heart close to His and use it to minister to others, so that all people will see Him. Especially my youth group.