Goodbye, Security Blanket

I was going to start writing this blog post last week, when I didn't know anything for sure but I could see the writing on the wall. In the end, I decided to wait until the news was official. Which was yesterday. However, as it turned out, yesterday I was just too emotional to talk about it. Or write about it, as it were. All day when asked "so, how do you feel about it?" my answer was a very blunt "Not good, new topic." But I'm glad I didn't blog about it then, when my perspective on the whole thing was very pessimistic, no 'bright side' in sight. Today is better. Today I can see a silver lining. So today I will write.

What is 'it', you might ask? What is this news that has me being all melodramatic? Well, our ward split, which is a good thing. And I was released from my calling. Which is not.

There are a lot of reasons why I'm going to miss being in the Primary Presidency. For one thing, it's a fun calling. Kids are fun. Primary is fun. We play games and sing songs and have a legitimate reason to be silly for two hours on the Sabbath. It's a unbelievably hard calling sometimes, and a reasonably hard calling all the time, but it's still probably the best calling anyone could ever get. But beyond that, I feel like I really became a member of the ward in this calling. I've been in the presidency for over two years, and it kind of feel like that's who I am. Primary Liz.

Before I had this calling, I struggled with feeling like I didn't belong in the ward, and in the neighborhood. I felt like a nobody. I knew no one, and no one knew me. For the first year in our new house, I was invisible and incredibly lonely. I looked around and saw a lot of great people, and it seemed like everyone was friends. It looked like a really great ward, I just wasn't a part of it. And I knew this was 99.9% my own fault. I have a hard time meeting new people and adjusting to new situations. I'm horrible at small talk and I feel very awkward at social events. I know that 'to have a friend, you must be friend', I get this. But knowing that my own social nervousness was the reason why I didn't feel included in the ward didn't really solve the problem. Simply being aware of one's own shortcomings doesn't just make those shortcomings go away. I wish it did, because if anything I can say that I am very self-aware. Anyway, long story short, when I was called into the Primary, I feel like it gave me a connection to the other members of the ward. For one thing, it put me in a spotlight. I was suddenly someone for people to turn to with questions about their children. It also let me get to know other moms in the neighborhood through their children. But I think mostly, it gave me something to talk about. Small talk hasn't been a problem at church for 2 years. "How are things in Primary?" is a natural conversation starter. This calling has made me confident, and it's earned me a nice community of friendly acquaintances. I feel like I know people now, and people know me. I don't want to go back to being a nobody again. (and yesterday that's what I felt was going to happen. Today, I'm more optimistic)

The other thing I really loved about my calling was that I was good at it. For three years before that I had struggled with being a stay-at-home mom with a particularly difficult special-needs child, and feeling every day like I was absolutely failing at the only job I had. I can't even put into words how much personal fulfillment I have gotten out of having a calling that I feel like I actually succeeded at. Was I a perfect 1st counselor? Heck no! But I did a good job. Not all my Sharing Times were as successful as I thought they would be, but I've had quite a few that I really nailed out of the park, if I do say so myself.

My friends and family members keep saying "Oh, you're about to get another really great calling, just wait", but I don't see that happening. Another one I've been hearing a lot is "the Lord has another big plan for you, that's all". Not so sure about that one either. Don't get me wrong, I would love nothing more than to get a new, fabulous calling right away that I really love and end up being super awesomely good at. But the realistic part of me feels like that's kind of selfish, and a bit narcissistic. I'd love to think that the Lord has something even better planned for me, and that's the only reason I was released, but that kind of makes it seem like the world -- or at the very least, the ward -- revolves around me. I think I'm grounded enough to say that, basically, I've had my turn. I really needed that calling at that time in my life, but it's been two years and now that time is over. Time to move on, which probably means just simply being a member of the ward in no extra special terms for a while. If I want to get all "He's got the whole world in His hands" about it, maybe now the Lord has really big plans for someone else that involves that calling. I had my time in the sun, I had my opportunity to get some extra blessings when I really needed them. Now it's someone else's turn. I don't get to be coddled by Him for the rest of my life, and I shouldn't expect to be. I get this. I don't necessarily like it, but I get it. 'You can't always get what you want'. 'What you want isn't always what you need', that's probably appropriate here as well.

If I had written this yesterday, the post would probably have ended there. Yesterday, I was reasonable enough to see that my time was up and I needed to accept it, but I couldn't see any positives in the situation. Today, there are positives. Don't get me wrong, I'm still really upset about it. My breakdown during Sacrament meeting was neither the first nor the last time I've cried about this. But today I think I can just get a little teary-eyed and move on. For one thing, this may be an opportunity to actually make some "friends" in the neighborhood. You might have noticed that earlier in this post I said that I've made a large amount of "acquaintances" over the past two years, and this is true. But I still don't really have any "friends" here. Being in Primary has helped me 'get to know' a LOT of people, but it has also isolated me enough to make it hard to actually get close to anyone. My hope is that I can break out of my own awkward shyness enough to get some shopping buddies, or movie pals, or lunch mates. We really do have a great ward, a great two wards now, and a great neighborhood with a lot of awesome people I would enjoy hanging out with. The positive side of me is saying that this is my opportunity to do just that. And Optimistic Liz is also hoping that Heavenly Father actually does have big plans for me, even if they are not connected to the ward. This calling has helped me feel more confident that I have some teaching skills. I'd like to move past the "staying exclusively at-home with very little children" part of my life, which is why I'm having this third kid and getting it out of the way so I can move on sooner than later (I know that sounds awful, but... eh). This past calling has really solidified in me that I'd like to work in the schools, either as a Special Ed teacher's aide, or an actual Special Ed Teacher if I can go back to college first. I'm going to have a little faith that if the Lord put me in a calling that showed me I could do it, He'll create a path for it to happen, someday.

But despite the positive outlook of today, this is still really hard. I'm very, very sad about the whole thing and even now as I type this I'm getting a little verklempt. I'm going to miss this calling. I'm going to miss the women I worked with. I'm going to miss having something to do and prepare for on Sunday. I'm going to miss being Someone. And I'm going to miss the kids. Oh man, am I going to miss the kids. I'm going to miss knowing them, really knowing them and being a part of their lives. I'm going to miss interacting with them each week, and and all the weird and funny things they say and do. I'm going to miss seeing that extra special little 'something' in each kid that you don't always notice until you get very very still and look real close. I'm going to miss the way their faces light up when they see me at church or in the neighborhood and wave because I'm someone they recognize and I'm someone who is 'cool'. They'll remember me for a while, yes, but soon I'm going to fade away into the sea of faceless adults that surround them. We won't be connected anymore, and I think, out of all of this, that may be the saddest part of all. It feels like something warm and precious is being yanked away from me, and now I'm not just verklempt, I'm full out crying so I should probably stop typing before I put myself into early labor.

I am sad. I don't like this. But I am hopeful. And at the end of the day, I am mostly just very, very grateful for the two years that I've had.