The Closet Was a Church Basement
The Haunted Space
The church basement always felt haunted, but not by ghosts. It was haunted by the unknown. The dark. The damp. The unused. While upstairs buzzed with hymns, potlucks, and praise, the basement sat mostly idle—full of forgotten Christmas costumes, dusty canned goods, and that low-level discomfort kids pick up on when adults avoid a space without ever saying why.
Most people didn’t go down there. But I did.
Two Basements, Two Selves
There were two sections to the basement. The front part was functional—the kitchen where the United Methodist Women made homemade soup for the town Christmas parade (a big deal in Eagle). It was warm, bustling, used just enough to feel safe.
But behind that was the back: dark, empty rooms no one ever touched. The smell of stillness. The feeling of time paused. It was uncomfortable, but full of potential. I liked the mystery of it, the untouched-ness. It felt like there was room for something more. It felt, in a strange way, like mine.
Looking back now, the church basement was my first closet.
Growth Upstairs, Silence Below
Eagle County’s real estate became some of the most precious in Colorado—especially after COVID, when folks flooded in from New York and California, trading city life for open skies and remote jobs. Prices soared. Space became sacred.
And the church? It had space. Three full floors.
We transformed the upstairs: a teen room, a nursery, a vibrant kids' church. “If you build it, they will come” was true. The programs flourished. People returned. The building was alive.
But the basement? Still untouched. Just sitting there. All that room. All that potential. And still no one opened the door.
Closets, Costumes, and Christmas Trees
I didn’t know I was queer yet. I just knew I didn’t want to kiss boys, and it didn’t make sense. So I packed the feeling away like last year’s Christmas costume. I didn’t hate it. I just didn’t know what to do with it.
The dark rooms of the church basement mirrored the places in me I didn’t yet have language for. Things I didn’t know how to integrate. Feelings that didn’t match the light and joy of the upstairs version of me.
They weren’t wrong. Just... unused.
Reclaiming the Rooms
I heard they finally renovated the basement. Turned it into something new for teens. A space reclaimed. I love that.
I’ve been doing the same—room by room. Returning to parts of myself I stored away. Pulling out forgotten costumes, old ideas of God, memories wrapped in shame or silence. Seeing which ones still hold truth. Which ones never did.
It turns out, the closet wasn’t cursed. It was just a space waiting for someone to turn on the light.
✨ Soulful Invitation:
What rooms in you have gone unused?
What parts of your spirit have been stored away like old decorations or unread scripture?
This week, I’m lighting a candle in my own basement—reclaiming the spaces that once scared me. If you’re doing the same, you’re not alone.