Change

Fortunately I handle change quite well .... particularly when it's my idea.  Too often, I'm impatient for it to happen.   I am notorious for gazing wistfully at the grass on the other side of the fence, forgetting to notice how luscious and green it is where I'm standing.  But then, after a change comes along and another page is turned in my own Book of Life, sometimes the passage of time causes the grass in the old pasture to appear more and more green.  The nauseatingly cutesy phrase, "Bloom where you're planted" is truly advice meant for me, in case the rest of you were wondering who the heck it was talking about.  And you may also be wondering what the heck I'm talking about here.

Change has reared its head again in my world.  But this time it was NOT my idea.  My entire church life has been uprooted and moved to another town and to another congregation.  Husband and I are leaving, for a few years, our comfy old congregation in which we've been nestled for over three decades.  In said comfy congregation, AKA "ward" in LDS terminology, we have evolved from baby-toting newlyweds, to our current gray-haired status of grandparents.  (And many thanks to Revlon for  keeping the gray under wraps.)  In the LDS lifestyle, one's ward is almost literally an extension of one's family and demands a great deal of time and focus in one's life.  Our ward-family helped to raise our kids and for that we will always be grateful.  It has also loved and befriended Husband and me, and has tolerated our attempts to serve in its midst.  We, in turn, have happily returned the favor.  

But now we will make another attempt to serve by providing some leadership in a ward comprised entirely of a precarious subgroup of the human species called Young Adults.  Unmarried Young Adults, I might add.  Eons ago, I was one of them in a similarly unmarried state, attending such a ward when I was living away from home at college.

Husband tends to go from busy to busier to off-the-charts busy in his church responsibilities; usually transitioning from one to the next without a moment to catch his breath.  He will lead this new ward and although at first he felt entirely overwhelmed at the prospect, no one of whom I can think is a better fit or better prepared for the job.  And I'm not alone in that opinion.  My role on the home front, has always been waging the battle of insisting that he take care of himself and to make sure there's always a clean shirt in his closet.  Hence my ironing board is always up and ready.  Plus I will do whatever is needed to help hold things together at church which, to my dismay, will likely involve frequent trips to Costco and baking truckloads of brownies that I will try NOT to eat.  Yeah, as if.

Fortunately, our old comfy ward will still be there when we come back.  And it will be there as we return for visits.  But for now, and for the next few years, we will have to step up our pace to keep up with this new group who will probably add more gray for Revlon to hide.   And it'll be my choice to love this change and not only to bloom in this new pasture, but to also, along with the brownies, toss a little fertilizer on those younger sprouts who will be blooming with me.

And ..... there will be running.