DadHD Brain

After my wife and I lost our daughter, Sophie, nothing about faith felt simple anymore.

Before that, church had just been part of my life. It was something I did. Something that made sense to me.

After Sophie died, it wasn’t.

People who loved us and meant well said the kinds of things people often say after a loss like that. That it was part of God’s plan or that it was meant to be. That He had a reason.

I know they were trying to offer comfort, but all it did was make me angry.

Because if that was the plan, I didn’t want anything to do with it.

So for a long time, I kept my distance.

Then one of my bosses at an insurance company I was working for kept strongly urging me to explore my faith again. Not just mentioning it once and moving on. Really urging me. Enough that I finally reached out to the pastor who married my wife and me.

That mattered to me, because he was also there for us when we lost Sophie. He and his wife showed up for us in ways I still cannot fully put into words. Some people say they care, and some people actually step into the mess with you. They did. Their friendship meant more to me than I can explain.

When I reached out, he suggested a few churches in Lincoln for me to research or visit before deciding where to go. He grew up here, so I trusted his judgment. I looked into each of them and ended up choosing Our Savior Lutheran Church. What drew me in first was their website. It just felt warm. Welcoming. Open. It stood out to me in a way the others didn’t.

Then my kids and I walked through the doors, and I knew almost immediately.

It was the church for us.

It felt like our place.

Everyone was warm and kind and welcoming from the minute we came in. Not fake nice. Not polished. It felt real. It felt like people were genuinely glad we were there.

When the pastor started the service, she introduced herself as Pastor Tobi White and said her pronouns were she and her. I remember noticing that right away and really liking it. There was something about that moment that made me feel like this was a place trying to be intentional about welcoming people, not just the usual church crowd, but everyone.

And that feeling kept getting reinforced. They have a ministry dedicated to helping people in the justice system turn their lives around. They even have a bus that brings inmates from the prison to church. That mattered to me. It told me this was not just a church that talked about grace. It was a church actually trying to live it out.

I ended up meeting with Pastor Tobi either that same week or the next week.

But here is the part that still sticks with me the most.

The very first Sunday we went, completely at random, they were baptizing a little girl.

And her name was Sophie.

Talk about a loud sign from above.

I’m not usually the kind of person who picks up on subtle hints, and apparently God knew that.

After ten years of staying away from church, after everything that name carried for me, that moment did not feel random. I’m not saying everyone has to interpret things the way I do. I just know what it felt like to me. It felt personal. It felt like something was reaching through all the distance, all the anger, and all the years I had spent keeping faith at arm’s length and saying, very clearly, come back.

And somehow, for the first time in a long time, I was ready to hear it.