Sunday, August 31, 2008

Separation anxiety

The last time my ward was split I was roughly 14 years old and they were taking “Pebble Creek” away from us and leaving us with the “old people condos”. I was mad. I was sure that God hated me and that the Bishop hated me even worse (because everybody knows that it’s the bishop’s decision when and where to split a ward….)

I knew he was out to get me because he never gave me candy at tithing settlement, he didn’t call me to be the Mia Maids President and now he was splitting up the coolest group of kids that ever existed (me and my friends). While I had to stay in the old people ward, half of my friends were going to be in a ward full of cool, young, rich families (Ivory Homes development) while the rest of us hung out with geriatrics and the others who lived in the “slums” of Lindon. I knew that since we weren’t in the same ward anymore, we couldn’t be friends.

Now our ward is being split, and because I'm grown up and mature I realize that it’s probably not because the bishop hates me (although he doesn’t give me candy when I meet with him ……) but it doesn’t make it less stressful.

I hate not knowing what’s going to happen. I hate that my mom isn’t here to tell me who will probably be in the bishopric (she could try….she’s pretty good at that sort of thing, but I don’t think she’s ever met anyone who lives in my current ward). I hate that I don’t even know which ward I’ll be in. I hate not knowing where the boundaries are, but feeling pretty confident that boundary lines will circle our house, and we’ll be the only ones in the neighborhood who will have to go to church in Ogden or something. I just know that all the “cool kids” will be in the “other ward” and that I’m going to be released from my calling that I love and we're going to have to start all over again.

The worst part is that Josh doesn’t feel this way at all. He could care less. In fact, while I started whining and speculating about the whole thing on the way home (I really think Brother Royal will be bishop of one of the wards) he just sat there. He offered no input, he didn’t encourage me, he didn’t even discuss it with me.

Then he said “remember what you talked about last week?” (referring to my talk that was supposed to be on Faith)
“Yes. I talked about my owie shoes and how I shouldn’t wear them to work when I have to walk around a lot.”
“What else?” he prompted
“Umm….how you took forever to propose to me?” I knew what he was looking for, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of using my own words against me.
“Keep guessing.”
“About how life is only good when you know everything and all the other times it’s scary and it sucks.”
“Yes. That was it. Good lesson.”

I hate change.

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