It's a Monday morning. I was on call last night and was so sure I'd be called in, and yet wasn't. So. This means I didn't fall asleep until 3am, and still had to wake up at 5:40 to cook breakfast for Aiden and drive him to Seminary. I'm now waiting the hour until Conor's alarm goes off, and enjoying the thoughtful quiet of the sleeping house.
Adam is here.
For a few weeks now. I was so sure I was done, and yet I could not go through with the divorce with my whole heart. Which left me thinking, and I'll admit, having a private foot stomping, clenched-fist, teeth-gritted emotional temper tantrum. Maybe I'll write more about this. Maybe. I feel a bit like the Girl Who Cried Divorce (not that I ever wanted to be that girl!), so since this is a delicate, vulnerable, tippy-toeing time, maybe I'll just wait.
This is the last week of January. I have my New Year's Resolutions all categorized and typed up, accessible from my home screen, and yet. I was so sure I was ready for some of them, and they haven't happened. Yet. I have not given up! Why is it so hard to do simple things that I know will bring me peace of mind and a measure of happiness? Must. Ponder.
I'm still thinking about our Testimony meeting yesterday. Sometimes our ward can be more circus than celestial, but yesterday---boy, yesterday was incredible. We have a new bishopric, and maybe the fresh leadership has ignited the positive energy, but I looked around the chapel during our meeting yesterday and have never felt so connected and so belonging with a group of people I often feel so different from. Wait, did that make sense? Our ward is somewhat of a melting pot in the Stake, a gathering of misfits from all walks of life, and yet, as I looked around the chapel I felt like I was home, that these people are my family, and that this, this is what the gospel is all about. Tattoos, cigarettes, poverty, imperfect families, and strained marriages, all coming before the altar of God, surrendered. I attended church fasting for my son. Thinking of him, praying for him, pleading for the Lord to keep His eye on my boy and somehow make Himself known. As if in answer, it seemed that every testimony was a powerful witness to the Lord's private workings, personal miracles, individual redemption in the lives of the ward members, and I felt peace.
I'm not sure it does me any good to be sure of anything except that. So, I'm going to move in the direction of peace.