Change

Yesterday we attended my officially least favorite church meeting ever.  After five years of living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and intentionally selecting homes at each move that were within the ward boundaries of the Chapel Hill 1st Ward, the boundaries were shifted around us and now suddenly our part of town is in the Chapel Hill 2nd Ward.  Did I mention that we've been trying to avoid this for five years?

I wore all black to the meeting because I suspected a disastrous change, and I cried, and swore at Marcos when he said I needed to put on a happy face, and then left the meeting to get some fresh air and walk around the building a few times. The wife of our new Bishop gave a wonderful talk about the difficulty and beauty of living in a breathing growing church, and the heartache that comes with these types of shifts. She said exactly what I was feeling. Especially after serving in the Relief Society presidency these last three years, and stretching way beyond what I was really able to do, or wanted to do, I felt incredibly sad to lose my weekly contact with so many women that I had rubbed shoulders with, and received feedback from, and given feedback to, and been frustrated and angry with, and been so impressed and moved by, and with whom I had grown together.

Sometimes change is so abrupt.  How could I even begin to say thank you, or good bye?

But the mourning lifted, and at night we went to visit our friends who live in the Chapel Hill 2nd Ward and their fine neighbors, and they all gushed about the wonderful energy of our new ward, and the great leadership, and the kindness and activity of its members, and a part of me became excited for this new adventure.  I left their home feeling refreshed and hopeful that this will be a great new experience for our family.

And a day later, I think I still feel that way.