Honestly, Sandie

Gemstones 22/30

I’ve written bits and pieces about this story before. About leaving. About rebuilding. About what happened inside those church walls.

What I haven’t fully written about is what it cost me in friendships.

Blue Kyanite and I spent more than a decade serving together. We dreamed together. We prayed together. We’d spend hours talking about what we believed God was saying. She’d ask me to mentor her through parts of her marriage and motherhood. I’d ask what God was teaching her. We talked about leadership, ministry, life, and all the messy parts in between.

Those years were real.

When Alex and I left, I never stopped believing that.

After she saw one of my videos, she reached out and wrote,

“Those questions you’re asking yourself… is Satan baiting you into believing lies.”

I answered,

“There’s just so much you don’t know.”

A little later she reminded me,

“You mattered… We’ve had some really good times and conversations over the years. And it wasn’t for nothing. A lot of people were impacted when you left”

I told her I believed that.

Because I still do.

I also reminded her,

“It was never the people. The relationships are what kept us there.”

That was true then.

It’s still true now.

Then she encouraged me to meet with “Pastor” and added,

“I don’t want to know anything.”

I remember reading that sentence over and over.

For more than ten years, we’d wanted to know everything.

We’d sit in church offices, restaurants, living rooms, and parking lots talking about life. We’d process ministry, marriages, parenting, leadership decisions, things we’d seen, things we’d heard, and what we believed God was teaching us. We asked hard questions. We wrestled with ideas. We weren’t afraid of uncomfortable conversations.

Then my story became the uncomfortable conversation.

I finally wrote back,

“It’s not gossip. It’s my story from my life.”

Later I said,

“Even now, you don’t want to know what happened because you want to honor others. That’s fine. But does it honor me?”

That wasn’t written out of anger.

It was grief.

I wasn’t asking her to agree with me.

I wasn’t asking her to leave.

I wasn’t asking her to defend me.

I just wanted the same curiosity we’d shared for more than a decade.

I wanted my friend to ask, “What happened?”

I don’t think Blue Kyanite stopped caring about me.

I think she genuinely believed she was honoring God, honoring leadership, and doing the right thing.

That’s what makes this one so sad.

Blue Kyanite is known as a stone of communication, truth, and alignment. It’s believed to help clear away the noise so people can hear one another more clearly.

Looking back, I understand why God kept telling me Alex and I were in the wrong room. Not because everyone in that room was wrong. Some of the people I loved most were there.

But a room where you can’t tell your own story eventually stops being the right room.

The years Blue Kyanite and I shared will always matter to me.

I still smile when I think about them.

I just wish there had been room for one more conversation.

One where my friend wanted to know what happened.

Honor your friends.

Ask the question.

Then listen to the answer.