"Fresh Courage Take"

"Life's journey is not traveled on a freeway devoid of obstacles, pitfalls, and snares. Rather, it is a pathway marked by forks and turnings. Decisions are constantly before us. To make them wisely, courage is needed: the courage to say "No," the courage to say "Yes." Decisions do determine our destiny.

 

The call for courage comes constantly to each of us. It has ever been so, and so it shall be."

-Thomas S. Monson

 

The minute Tom read me the email that BYU was wondering if he was still available to be a visiting professor I knew he would get an offer. I knew it even though in the very beginning he was in second place for the position. Moving to Utah was not in my plan or my hope, and so I held on that he would find a job in Eugene. It is was what both of us wanted more than anything.

 

Tom noticed online that there was a job opening at BYU for a full-time math professor. Back in the day it had been Tom's dream to teach at BYU. To follow in his father's footsteps, but the thought of working with those who taught him daunted him, and he decided that isn't what he wanted after all. Plus while going to school and teaching at the University of Oregon he discovered that his heart was in teaching. Not in research. For those of you that don't know to teach at a research university in math you need a post-doctorate. It is kind of like a residency. A couple of years to give you more experience and to really focus on research with the hopes that you will get a few papers published. BYU requires a post doctorate which Tom does not have. So when Tom told me he applied for the job I just shrugged my shoulders. We both knew there was no chance that they would even consider him for the position. Little did I know what Heavenly Father had in store for us.

 

Heavenly Father made it crystal clear where our lives needed to head next. Just as he did when it came time for us to leave Provo and head to Eugene where Tom would work on getting his Ph.D. I believed that the University of Oregon was more like a pit stop along our path to where we were ultimately headed. I had come to accept that we would be returning to Utah where we would most likely live for the majority of our lives. The price I would pay for marrying someone from Provo. But throughout the six years that we lived in Eugene (we didn't realize the program was six years) we both came to love it and it became home for the both of us.

 

I sometimes wake up and wonder how did I get here. Especially considering my physical health, mental health and emotional health. I can't believe that Heavenly Father would ask me to leave my psych nurse, therapist and nurse practitioner. Sure I can find all three here in Utah, but two of them I met with for nearly two years. But Heavenly Father gave the call and somehow I drudged up the courage to say "Yes." I know without a shadow of doubt that Tom and I are supposed to be here in Utah, in this exact apartment and in our exact ward. Just like I knew when we moved to Eugene.

 

But for me, saying "Yes" was the easy part. The actual packing up and driving out here seemed unreal. It really felt like we were just going on vacation for a week as we stayed at Tom's parent's house until we could move into our townhouse. We have been truly blessed by family and friends who helped us get here at every stage of our move.

 

We have almost been in our townhouse for a month. Much time has been spent on figuring out where to put furniture, buying some "new" furniture, unpacking, rearranging and even more shopping. More than enough to keep us busy but overall it has been a very difficult month for me. Tom has often heard me say, "I want to go home." He always asks in return, "Eugene or Heaven?" The answer varies depending on how I'm doing emotionally.

 

It is hard because there are so many people we want to reconnect with here. We have family from all four sides, Tom's full immediate family, my sister and brother, and countless friends. But I am physically spent and feel like hibernating. There is still so much to do to make our townhouse feel like home. I even have on the wall "Love the heart of this home." Every time I pass it on the stairs I think to myself, "That is a lie." I feel that all the faith that I have built up over the past two years is leaking through a sieve.

 

"Brothers and sisters, this is a divine work in process, with further manifestations and blessings of it abounding in every direction, so please don't hyperventilate if from time to time issues arise that need to be examined, understood, and resolved. They do and they will. In this Church, what we know will always trump what we do not know. And remember, in this world, everyone is to walk by faith."

-Elder Jeffery R. Holland

 

I do know that we are where we are supposed to be. What is supposed to happen over the next two years as we are traveling this new path I do not know. This quote reminds me that I need to focus on what I do know and continue to have faith in Heavenly Father's plan for us here in Utah. And there are days where I am back to where courage is choosing to breathe. And I'm sure I will experience many more days like that. Many times these words come to mind as I struggle through the everyday.

 

"In that imaginary instant, I couldn't help calling out to him: "Don't you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead." Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don't come until heaven. But for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come."

-Elder Jeffery R. Holland

 

And so I continue to trudge onward. Organizing, unpacking, painting and doing a little decorating with the knowledge that in time this will feel like home. "If we now shun the fight? Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake. And soon we'll have this tale to tell. All is well! All is well!"



A Priceless Gift

When I first moved into my present ward I did NOT want a calling in primary. I hadn't really been in primary much since I was a child. It was a foreign land and I was intimidated. I also hadn't interacted with children very much over the past seven years while going to school. I kept my fingers crossed that I would be passed over.

I was called to be on what was then called the Enrichment Committee. I could handle that. I felt a sigh of relief that I had gotten away with not being put in primary. But then Tom was extended a second calling, and it became apparent that in our ward if you didn't hold a leadership position you usually had more than one calling. I didn't feel so "safe" then.

The dreaded day came. I was asked to team teach what was then CTR 6 (now CTR 5). What a huge blessing it was to have someone to follow and observe for a couple of weeks. I started to learn the names of the children in our class and even other children in Jr. primary. I began to teach every other week. We had a large class with a couple of children with special needs, so at times it would get to be pretty crazy. But I loved every single one of them. I loved watching how they grew so much in that second half of the year. Because I joined them late I moved up to CTR 7 (CTR 6) with them as their teacher. I was excited to be able to spend more time with them.

There was always the intention of calling another teacher to help me out. On a typical Sunday I would have probably about seven children. I was down to one now with special needs. I have to admit that there were Sundays that I went home crying thinking that I hadn't accomplished anything. I struggled with finding the balance of disciplining but also not letting one child disrupt the learning of the other children. I had a smart class, and I wanted it to be fun for all. Eventually I would pull Tom in with me while I taught if it looked like I was going to have a big class. He came to love every one of those kids too. I never did get a team teacher, but I was sad to see "my" kids graduate to Sr. primary.

I was excited to get a new class and to get to know other kids in the primary better. I had a small class now, and they were all sweethearts. I came to love them quickly. There were no more Sundays of crying. It didn't mean that every Sunday went smoothly. But compared to the year before my class was easy to work with. The kids were eager to learn and gave insightful answers to questions. I was happy right where I was.

Besides enjoying teaching I also enjoyed sharing time. I loved to hear the different children participate. Sometimes I would be blown away by their answers to questions asked. I also liked having the opportunity to relearn the primary songs. I had pretty much forgotten most of them. During my difficult year of teaching by myself I would always remind myself to be grateful that I didn't have to teach sharing time. That task seemed daunting. Not only did you have to teach the lesson twice, but you had adults observing you as well. I liked the fact that it was just the kids and me when I taught. If I botched it I knew that they would forget by the next Sunday, and they would love me no matter what.

I had a dear friend move out of the ward boundaries. She had been serving as first counselor in primary presidency. She asked me what I thought about being in the presidency. I was blunt in the fact that I did NOT want to be a counselor. I didn't want the stress of teaching sharing time. My friend passed the word onto the primary president and once again I felt "safe." I went out of town for two weeks and on my return my friend asked me if I had thought about primary at all. My answer was an emphatic no. She asked the question a couple of times. I knew then that I was in trouble. I was able to escape the first couple of Sundays back, but the fateful day came when I was called to be the first counselor in the primary presidency.

I knew that I was going to be pushed out of my comfort zone multiple times. The women I served with were loving and wonderful. I felt welcome right off. I don't remember what my first sharing time was about, but I thought I was going to pass out I was so nervous. Yet I survived and continued to do so as time went by. I became known for going a little over the top with my lessons. I felt that if I was bored preparing the lesson, then the kids would be bored hearing it. I always worried that I wouldn't have enough material to fill up my time, but I almost always took up the whole time. I think our music leader just came to expect that when it was my turn to teach. I couldn't help but look for creative ideas to teach. I was still nervous before teaching, but the minute I started all fear disappeared as I would get immersed in the lesson and the kids. I honestly loved teaching sharing time.

I cornered the 1st counselor in the bishopric one Sunday as I was checking in on nursery and found out that the bishopric would be considering whether or not to change the primary presidency after the children's program (Nov 2012). This program was both the president's and my third time, though this year I ended up being out of town. I still put the rough draft together; I shared the information with the president (who is also a friend), and we would laugh and guess at where we would serve next. She felt that she may be called to Young Women's. At the time I had a feeling that I may be called to nursery. We had been needing more help, but we had a hard time coming up with names. My last few months in primary, when I had the strength to make it to church, were mainly spent in nursery. I missed my interaction with the older children but I loved each of the kids in nursery too.

My first Sunday back at church after the Thanksgiving break I was notified that I would be released the following Sunday. I was notified at the same time as another counselor, and I acted cheerful. I knew right away who the president would be and that the counselor I was sitting near would be called back into primary. I expected to feel a huge sense of relief. With the decrease of my health and just the different things that took place the first Sunday's of the months, I hadn't taught sharing time since July. I thought knowing that I wouldn't have to teach sharing time would make me feel less stressed and less guilty. My reaction surprised me.

As I sat sitting in church as the meeting went on it slowly began to sink in. I looked around the room at the different children. It began to dawn on me that the world of primary would no longer be mine. I wouldn't have the children running up to me to give me a hug, to show me a loose tooth, to tell me about their birthday party, to tell me how many teeth they had lost, to show me their very first pair of heels, etc. Such small moments that I would no longer have.

It took all I had to hold in the tears until I found an appropriate time to get up and go out to my car. It wasn't sitting in a very private location, so I drove off and parked in a parking lot that was mostly empty, and I sobbed. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but my heart was breaking. The laughter I had experienced at the idea of being released was forgotten. The following Sunday I didn't go to church because of health reasons but also because I knew I couldn't handle sitting there as my name was announced and another's to replace mine.

My time in primary was a priceless gift: a gift that Heavenly Father knew I needed even though I dreaded it at first. As most know, primary can get to be noisy and pretty crazy, but stepping through the primary doors at times was like walking into a piece of heaven. Children eager to learn and share. After my time in the Johnson Unit last year Sister Roderick had the children draw something that made them happy. Those drawings can still be found hung up above my closet. It is amazing how much love and healing can be found in a child's arms when you have a hard time finding it anywhere else.

I have to be honest and say that at times it still hurts. I happened to be looking at instagram, and I saw a picture of a Sunbeam giving her first talk. A child who had just been in nursery last year. In the photo I could see some of the presidency sitting where I once sat. I found myself tearing up. I miss them. I know that the timing of my departure was right. My health started to decrease even more quickly after that, but yet it was another loss. One that I didn't realize would hurt. It is a huge feat if I make it to just Sacrament Meeting now. I know the children are in good hands and are loved very much by their teachers and leaders.

     Heavenly Father, are you really there?

     And do you hear and answer ev'ry child's prayer?

     Some say that heaven is far away,

     But I feel it close around me as I pray.

     Heavenly Father, I remember now

     Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:

     "Suffer the children to come to me."

     Father, in prayer I'm coming now to thee.

     Pray, he is there;

     Speak he is list'ning.

     You are his child:

     His love now surrounds you.

     He hears your prayer;

     He loves the children,

     Of such is the kingdom,

     The kingdom of heav'n.

"A Child's Prayer", words and music by Janice Kapp Perry

(*Note: The majority of this blog post was written before I was officially released. I was planning on publishing it shortly after, but because of health issues writing takes so much out of me physically and emotionally.)

Grieving

Grieving is a process with how we deal with loss - big or small. There are five stages of grief. They don't have to be experienced in order. Sometimes you can experience two of the stages at the same time. Everyone experiences grieving in their own way.

1. Denial, disbelief, numbness
2. Anger, blaming others
3. Bargaining
4. Depressed mood, sadness, and crying
5. Acceptance, coming to terms

When Heavenly Father told me it was time to start the grieving process I started sobbing. I didn't want to. It felt like giving up. It felt like losing hope. I viewed it negatively. I kept asking God haven't I been through enough this year? Why this? Why now?

I believe I mentioned before that I haven't been sleeping well for almost three months now. I wake up a number of times throughout the night. Sometimes feeling more and more anxious as the morning begins to dawn. I am physically spent, so you would think that I would actually sleep. I am on a natural sleeping aid and a medication, so falling asleep isn't a problem. It is staying asleep. Well early this morning I was feeling overly anxious and sitting next to my bed. I had tried sleeping on the couch and in the chair. When 5:30 am hit I sat in my new corner waiting for 6 am to arrive. That is the earliest time I allow myself to take my morning medication which does contain an anti-anxiety medication. Tom came and sat down next to me on the floor and said something that really got me thinking. I was expressing how tired I was. How anxious I was feeling. Why do I have to grieve? He said so that all the emotion could be dealt with. So that I could cry in an environment where I felt comfortable doing so (I hate crying in front of people).

I have experienced a lot of loss this year of many types one after the other. I'm not sure I have grieved fully any of those losses because another one hits soon after. And I believe I have stuffed all that emotion deep inside. My therapist has tried to get me to bring it up on a number of occasions, but I always tell her that the minute I enter her front door I stuff it away. Usually. Lately I have found everything to be draining. Even good things. I have come to be dissatisfied with my calling which I love and I really wouldn't want a different one. I couldn't understand it. I have felt strongly that I do NOT want to teach sharing time.

This week I have been the Ultimate Hermit staying at home and keeping my phone on silent. Now I haven't been just twiddling my thumbs. I found myself one day cleaning all day. Scrubbing and painting walls. Doing laundry. Reorganizing spaces. Purging. Taking out the garbage. Doing the dishes (Tom usually does them). Yesterday I found myself working on Project Life for 2011. It is so close to being completed. I have even been reading a little bit. The TV has hardly been turned on. For some reason I haven't really wanted to watch movies for months.

It was early this morning that I came to the conclusion that I have been in many ways fighting the grieving process. Humans in general will run from negative emotion. But you know what? It is a part of life. Something that we shouldn't run from. Running just prolongs the agony and can actually make us physically sick. I have been experiencing Limbo Loss for three months, and I can tell you that it has taken its toll. Part of me just wants to skip over the next three months. I'm not in a mood to celebrate the holidays. I'm ready for this year to be over. I'm now viewing those months differently.

I think that for the next three months I need to focus on healing. I have given all that I have, and I am worn out. It is time to let the varying emotions lose. I have been feeling guilty for taking time to be alone. I keep telling myself that I should be focusing on other friendships now that this other one has come to an end. I keep telling myself that I should put forth effort to get to know certain people better. All good things. But emotionally, mentally, physically, and even on some level spiritually I am not at a place to put forth that effort. It feels selfish, but it is time to take care of myself. And if that means I need a couple of weeks without interacting with anyone but Tom that is OK. If I tell people 'no I can't do something' that is OK. My body needs a rest. And I'm still dealing with varying levels of depression and anxiety.

It is time to stop running and turn around and face what I have left behind. The loss of my grandparents. The loss of my uncle. The loss of Sketch Support. The loss of Josalyn & Bryce. The loss of Leslie. The loss of this new friendship. The loss of physical health. The loss of our savings. The loss of mental health. The loss of losing the desire to do the things that I used to love. The limbo loss of not knowing if this is our last year in Eugene or not. The limbo loss of whether or not Tom will have everything done in time for graduation. I could go on. And so these next three months I am going to allow myself to be sad. Allow myself to cry. Allow myself to get angry. Allow myself to not feel guilty for any of it. And I'm sure as I start letting go that I will slowly rejoin the world of the living.

To everything there is a season,

and a time to every purpose

under heaven.

 

A time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant,

and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

 

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

 

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

 

A time to cast away stones,

and a time to gather stones together;

 

A time to embrace,

and a time to refrain from embracing;

 

A time to get, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

 

A time to rend, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

 

A time to love, and a time to hate;

a time of war, and a time of peace.

 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

 

And so I'm going to allow myself a time to weep, to mourn, to hate (get angry), to break down, a time to keep silent, etc. I believe as I allow these emotions to run free I will then find that slowly there will be a time to laugh, a time to build up, a time to heal, a time to get, and a time to love. For our Heavenly Father is wise and knows what we need most. I'm going to do my best to view these last three months as a gift of a time to heal. No deadlines. No hurry. Because I think we have all experienced that grieving takes time. And I am blessed that I really do have three months where I can take time to heal. Now of course it could take longer than that or less. But "to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven".