On Loss, Change and Motherhood

It has been an absolutely lovely, joyous weekend!  I look forward to General Conference and love the traditions we have started with our little family over the last couple of years.  Today was a day full of delicious food, powerful inspiration, beautiful music, our sweet children, and the company of some wonderful friends.  The kids went to bed on time (something we have struggled with in the last week), and Jason had fallen asleep too, so I came out to the living room to listen to some peaceful music and rock the baby to sleep.  As I snuggled my little man, soaking in the calm moment, I was suddenly overwhelmed with how much I miss my mom.  So much has happened in the last 11 months!  I can hardly believe I have lived almost a year without her.  How I long to just talk to her and see her face!  

They say that everything gets better with time, but I’m not so sure.  It is true that I am used to life without my mom – I have adjusted to a new normal where I cannot pick up the phone and call her to talk about the big things or the little ones, and where she is less and less fresh in the minds of my children.  I no longer jump when the phone rings and says “mom home.”  (It may seem weird that I haven’t changed that, but I just can’t do it.)  I am used to the fact that I can’t talk to my mom now, and that she isn’t coming over for dinner, and that she isn’t going to visit the fire station with Sophie’s preschool class this month, and that we aren’t getting together for our birthdays.   But the feeling of vacancy is no less.  I miss her when I’m sad.  I miss her when I’m happy.  I miss her when something great is happening and I am on top of the world, or when I have ideas I need to share, when I am overwhelmed, or worried or stressed.  Just always.

The sense of loss varies, though.  Sometimes there is a week or two or even three where things seem great.  Then, the smallest thing will make me miss my mom with such intensity that I am instantly sick to my stomach.  Without question, the most difficult times are those of change. Weston’s last day of kindergarten was a rough one.  That was the first real change in our lives that she wasn’t a part of…and since I had spent the last 2 months of the school year completely consumed in her sudden cancer resurgence, aggressive decline, funeral, etc…it seemed so sudden that my baby was no longer a kindergartner!  And then there we were, facing our first summer without her.  We have had quite a few firsts without her, actually.  I had my first birthday without her, and so have each of the kids.  We had a Thanksgiving (which was brutal) without her, a Christmas, and now we’re coming up on Easter. The day that Brighton learned to crawl just broke my heart.  No one would have cared as much as she would have about that small development in his life.  It was so exciting, but I couldn’t share the excitement with her!  Even though life has continued to move forward, up until about 2 months ago, life hadn’t changed dramatically.

The first major change in my life since mom’s passing was getting released as young women’s president in February.  My involvement in that calling truly made life seem normal after she died and kept me very busy!  It has been a significant part of my life – something that I threw myself into for over three and a half years. I spent many hours each week devoted to the young women.  The feeling of loss after being released was huge.  People kept asking me if I felt relieved, but nothing could have less accurately described my feelings! 

Then a week ago, Jason was called to the bishopric of the singles ward.  Although I am excited about this and know it will be a huge blessing for our family, I have struggled a lot with the fact that we will no longer be members of our Harmony Hills ward - at least not until Jason is released, which could be years from now, although no one ever really knows these things in advanced.  

I have been trying to figure out why this is so emotionally traumatizing for me.  At first I thought, "ok, this is a change, but not so huge - I mean, we still live in the same house, and we still have friends in the ward, so the only main difference will be Sunday."  Technically, I suppose this is true.  But we all know that in the church, your ward defines your life in many ways.   It is true that many of the amazing Harmony Hills ward members know me and love me. And I love them.  I have let them into my life, and they have let me into theirs.  Being in a new ward, therefore, should not change these important realities.  Certainly, I will get together with friends that I used to see or talk to at least once a week, and we will have lovely times together yet in the future.  There is no doubt in my mind about this.  Yet, there is something about the consistency of Sundays that makes you more connected, more like an extended family.  I think I have finally pinpointed what it is - at least in part.

Before landing ourselves here in the Harmony Hills ward, I had never been in any ward for more than a year straight (since leaving home at age 18, that is).  I am friendly, so I always jumped right in and tried to become a part of each ward, but with a few exceptions, I found that you don't forge deep bonds in less than a year.  I was used to this from my almost 10 years of being a young single adult, so for the first few years of marriage it didn't bother me much.  At any rate, no matter where we went, we still had family - for me, my mom - involved in the details of our lives.  I talked to my mom almost daily (as I had my entire life), and we got together about once a week.  It was a huge blessing to me that when she passed away, we were very much established in our ward.  With my mom gone, I lacked the involvement of family in my daily or weekly life.  While I am close to my dad, brother and other family members, they live far away which makes it difficult to see each other very often.  My ward family, which had been a huge part of my life already, became that much more important to me.  Who were the people involved in the weekly happenings of life?  My ward, of course!  

Usually when you leave a ward, you know it's coming, and you are the one to make the choice because you are physically moving out of the boundaries of the ward.  Maybe you don't want to leave the ward, but you know that this move is in the best interest of your family, or perhaps it is necessary because of employment.  Usually there is time to adjust to the idea of moving wards.  You know it is going to happen in advanced, and you have a little time to mentally and emotionally prepare for your life to change.  We, however, found out three days in advanced that our records were being moved to the singles ward!  On our last Sunday in the Harmony Hills ward, we were required to keep the move a secret because Jason hadn't been sustained yet!  It is a strange thing to move wards without actually moving physically.  

I do genuinely believe and know that serving in the singles ward is going to be an amazing experience.  I am just trying to process the change, and work through the feeling of loss.  Yes, I will see my Harmony Hills family still.  I will run into people at the store, we will attend the Easter egg hunt and the trunk or treat, and we will make the effort to get together with friends whenever possible.  But we won't be involved in each others' lives on a weekly basis, and I think that is the loss I am feeling.  And, it also explains why I am suddenly missing my mom so poignantly right now.  

Last Sunday I kept thinking how she would have been there.  My mom would have been there to see Jason sustained if she had to fly half-way across the world to be there!  Oh, how I miss that about her! The consistency of her presence at every meaningful moment in life (as well as many others) is something that I will always miss.  And there are SO MANY huge moments in our lives yet to occur. 

Ultimately, I have come to realize how important I am as a mom.  I will be the consistency in my children's lives (along with Jason, of course) through all the many changes they will experience.  I will give them the foundation that will help them stand strong when I am gone one day, too, just like my mom did for me.  I can give them a sure foundation of faith in Jesus Christ, unconditional love, confidence, belief and hope. I can give them all that I am – and in fact am doing that anyway, whether it is intentional or not!  What greater motivation could I have for being the best person that I possibly can be?   

Change is such a huge part of life, whether we like it or not.  And let's face it, sometimes we don't. One of my favorite quotes is permanently at the top of this blog: "Life is change.  Growth is optional.  Choose wisely."  I can be sad because I miss the young women, and I can be sad because I am leaving the ward that has been my "family" these past few years.  But although I wrote a whole blog post about it, I will not dwell on those feelings for too long (though I know they will resurface from time to time). I will teach my children to move forward.  Life is so often not what we expect! I have learned, however, that when we move forward in optimism and faith, life turns out always to be better than what we expected it to be.  And that, my friends, is such a hopeful way to end this post that I am compelled to end it now.  Have a magnificent day!

Red Letter Day

Today began like any other hectic Sunday morning.  Sophie woke up sad that she wasn't a mermaid.  She said that she had made a wish and it didn't come true that she could be half girl and half mermaid.  I gave her a pep talk about how Heavenly Father had sent her to earth to accomplish things that only SHE could do, and that she could only do as a GIRL...but alas, the pep talk didn't cheer her up at all.  Then, because he was so sleepy, Weston wouldn't get out of bed.  So Jason, with alarm in his voice, rousted Weston by telling him that he had been asleep for 5 years and that he was now turning 12!  He told him that Sophie and Brighton were actually his new little sister and brother, Summer and Hammy (don't even ask), and that Sophie and Brighton were at church practicing for a primary program.  Sophie thought it was funny and started calling herself Summer, while Weston grumbled but did at least get out of bed and get dressed.
Fast forward to church.  Someone is giving a baby blessing.  In the middle of the blessing, Brighton digs into the diaper bag, finds a container full of cheerios (an envied snack only to be had at church) and somehow figures out how to open the tupperwear.  Mid-blessing, I am frantically trying to pick up all the cheerios while he manages to stuff at least 10 in his mouth.  It turns out that was too many to eat at a time, so he spits a few out (some half chewed and slobbery, mind you) and then tries to re-eat them. Because today was a big day for me, I am trying to pay really close attention to what the bishop is saying.
Before we get to the part I dread (where I am released as young women's president), he says he has an award to present, and calls me out of the congregation to help "present"the award.  Turns out he had an award for me!  That did soften the blow of my aching heart, but I still braced myself for my last lesson to the girls.  I had prayed and worried all week about what I would say to them.  Thankfully, the words came out right.  Thankfully, I was able to speak from the heart and tell them what I knew I needed and wanted to say to them.
There are literally no words to express how much they mean to me.  I have treated them as an extension of my own family, and loved them, in some ways, as I would my own children.  I have prayed for them every day, laughed with them...and heaven knows I have worried about them! I have spent many hours each week preparing to teach, guide, and plan terrific activities with and for them.  I have reminded them of a million different assignments, and they probably wished at times that I would stop reminding them so often! We have had so much fun together and also many spiritual experiences...and they have taught me so very much.  They are a part of me and always will be.  I hope that just as my own young women's leaders left a lasting impression on me, that I have left something on them - my testimony, my belief in them, my faith in Jesus Christ.  I hope that they are better because of our association.  I know that I am better because of them. I am so thankful to have been chosen to serve them for a time!  I would by lying if I said I wasn't a little (or a lot) broken-hearted about leaving them.
Today when Sandy had her moment to tell them good-bye and share her testimony with them, she said that she hopes her daughters grow up to be like these girls.  I feel the same way! There is also a special bond that you forge with people you work so closely with on such a regular basis.  I have been able to serve with some of the most incredible women I know.  And I will miss that, too.  Ultimately, I know that the young women will still be a part of my life.  I will see them for a few minutes on Sundays and ward activities, and maybe I'll get them to go out to ice cream with me, or come over to hang out from time to time.  But I will miss seeing their bright and shining faces on such a constant basis, miss their cute stories, their inspiring faith, their energy and zest for life - all the goodness that they radiate!  And of course, all the love that they have shown me.  I think I forgot to thank them for accepting me and showing me so much love.  How could I have forgotten?
I used to be distressed thinking about the world that my kids would grow up in - afraid all of the rotten, degrading mess that our society as devolved to and the deplorable, crass influences all around them.  But when I see these radiant young women - women of faith and strength and beauty - I know that as long as I teach my kids well, they still have a future full of bright possibility.  They, too, can be a light in this darkening world.
I'm not sure how long it will take to get used to this "new normal."  It is amazing how much you miss something the second that you no longer have it.  I know that is a weird thing to say because a calling isn't something you have to keep.  It is an opportunity to serve in a certain capacity for a certain time.  But when you come to love people, you are never the same, and you don't want to let go of them!  I know I don't have to let go of these cherished friendships, but I also know that it won't be the same...and that is the hard part.  It is, in some ways, how I feel when a cherished friend moves away.  The friendship remains so dear and precious to me, but I ache for their company and constancy in my every day life! I've had a few of those kind of major aches in the last year - the loss of my mom, of course, being the worst.  But now I must focus on gratitude, and fill my heart with thanks for incredible bonds of love that have filled, and will continue to fill my life with rich joy!
Here are just a few pictures from a few activities over the last few years...