This weekend, being the LDS Church's annual General Conference, is one of the busiest for my husband. He helps to cook the food for all the Church leaders who meet to speak and teach, for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir who performs, and for the audio/visual and security and all the others who work behind the scenes for two incredibly busy days.
That's a whole lot of people to feed.
Some people volunteer to be on the serving lines and help to clean up. One such woman took a look at my husband as he made the rounds and said, "I just love your wife." He had never met this woman before and couldn't understand how she knew we were married.
Come to find out she was a friend of mine from high school. We latched on to one another early on in our Freshman year. I remember loving her long, blond hair and bubbly laugh. I remember us walking down the hall one day and saying in a seriously cheesy teenage tone, "Hi Jared" to a boy we both thought was cute. I remember laughter and tears, and most of all love.
When my husband asked what I was like in high school, I don't think she could recall much more than I did, only to say, "I just know when she was around everything was happier. She made life fun." My friend also remembered me being there while her parents were going through a divorce.
Those words of hers meant a lot to me, especially as I've been doing some serious soul-searching the last few weeks. Being a Relief Society President in a ward (basically the leader over the women of our local congregation) requires things, and some of those things do not come naturally. For me, it's getting out of my house and going visiting. Some of you may think, "That's not so hard." Others (fellow introverts unite!) may be mentally patting me on the back in understanding.
There is a huge emotional block when it comes to placing myself in the personal space of others. I begin to psych myself out with thoughts of people not wanting me to visit them, to call, to ask about their personal life. Yet common sense tells me that's exactly where I am supposed to go and what I am supposed to do. I watch as my counselors are easily able to accomplish precisely what I am so unwilling to do, and then begin chastising myself for not being like them.
During the different General Conference sessions the last two days, I have been given insight into what I need to do in order to overcome this. The answers came from three different speakers, but the messages all came together for me.
1. Look up. When I am busy hanging my head in fear and disappointment in myself, look up. Therein lies the Light of Christ. Therein sits the goal of who I want to become and what Heavenly Father needs me to be. I must look up in order to get up and move forward.
2. Stretch a little farther. Just as the woman with an issue of blood had to stretch in order to touch the hem of the Savior in full faith that she would be healed, I need to stretch a little farther to fulfill my calling of looking after the sisters of the ward. The Savior will reach out to help me along that path, but I also have to reach out to Him, knowing He will help me push past this block.
3. Fear and faith cannot reside side-by-side. I know this. I really do know this, and I am getting better at putting aside fear and stepping forward in faith. It is simply time for me to put into practice the things I know. Fear is crippling, and for some reason it runs deep through the lines of my father's family. Breaking the chains takes putting faith into action.
4. I am not meant to be the leaders before me. It's one of the hardest things for any leader to shake off - the ghosts of those who came before. Relief Society leaders hold this position for about 3 years, sometimes more or less. When I look into the room on Sunday it is filled with women who have been where I now stand, and I cannot imagine how I am supposed to live up to their legacies. Today I was told I don't have to. I have my own purpose, and it is to love in the best ways I know how.
I thought about the impressions I left with this friend of mine from over 20 years ago, just as she left her impressions with me. I began to think about what sort of impressions I want to leave with the sisters, and I decided that if I can leave them with similar feelings as I did with my friend, then I have done good. This means make them laugh, let them think of love, and be there when they need a shoulder to cry on.
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Stay Strong and Carry On: Maile Tua'one
"Go ahead and take my picture," she says, a half-laugh on her lips. "See me," she says, even though the photos are a mere echo of the beauty that sits before you. "Love me," she whispers, not a command, but rather an invitation, as though in those two words a world of unbelievable joy can be opened up before your own eyes. A world you would never have seen or felt without her. "Let me love you," she breathes, and in that one breath you know that being loved by Maile will be one of the greatest blessings of your life.
Maile died this last Sunday, late in the night. She was with a friend when her car ended up with a flat tire. Her friend got out to change the tire and she stood by his side the entire time. Which was just like her. She was always by your side. Watching over you. Watching with you. Giving very unhelpful pointers but making you love every word of advice.
When Maile loved - and she loved everyone!...almost - it was with her whole heart. She was a little girl in a woman's body. Very little made her more happy than to dress up in her "real clothes", her Princess clothes.
And if she could find other little girls play princess with her, well, all the better. Because in those few moments shared Maile could explain to each and every little girl that they too were real-life princesses, pretending to be "regular people" in life so everyone else wouldn't have to be too jealous. In her eyes every girl deserved to be treated like royalty, and expected the men in her life to act accordingly. More often than not, they did.
Maile had the heart of an artist. One small doodle turned into a masterpiece. She lived life. She loved life. She was terrified of life. She saw it in vivid color, every swirl, every detail, down to the little things the rest of us take for granted. When we would try to go from point A to point B we knew we'd meet her there, but that she'd be five hours later. Why? Because our straight line was nothing like for her. The twists and turns and stops along the way made the way sweeter, made it worth every moment in her goal to reach B. Only B wasn't her ultimate goal - enjoying the ride, that's what mattered.
 |
| "trapped like a bird in the chaos of her own mind. inspiration strikes randomly when contemplating certain people and ideas I can't seem to escape from. I may not know what I'm doing most of the time but I sure do make it look good" ~ Maile Tua'one |
Look at those eyes. Look at that half-smile. She knew what it meant to embrace everything good in this life. She's been taken from us here on earth, but her soul is flying now. Higher than she's ever gone before. She's still loving us, as we're still loving her, only she's gone on to love so many more, hand-in-hand with her daddy. Gonna miss you Miss Miles. There is no one else in this world like you. Stop by and visit every once in a while, but be the best missionary you can be on the other side.
Stay Strong and Carry On
Words she shared.
Words she lived.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
The Worth of One Soul
My husband is sick. In our own little family this is enough to set everyone into a tizzy. He rarely gets sick, and definitely not with fever chills and body aches. He even opted to stay home from church today - also a rare occurrence.
In and of itself this may not seem like a big deal, but my husband is not just your ordinary church-goer (if there is such a thing as an ordinary church-goer). You see, he is a bishop over a ward in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (also known as the Mormon Church). He is the figurative father of a local congregation, or ward. He is their spiritual leader. And today he was greatly missed.
As news of his nasty sickness spread throughout the meeting person after person came up to ask me about him. Was he okay? How was he feeling? Was there anything they could do? Wish after wish for a speedy recovery was pressed upon me to pass along to him. Much love was expressed, and promises of prayers being offered in his behalf. Even as my heart grew warm with the utter love and concern shown for him, I knew there was no way even I - a self-proclaimed artist with words - would be able to let him know just how much he was missed, and how much the people he has served over the last four years loved him.
One person. Just one person has had an amazing effect on a group of people. I began to think throughout the day about how precious a single individual can be to another, especially as that was what our lesson in young women's was on today. What are we doing to personally enrich the lives of those around us, to make that relationship between ourselves and those with whom we come in contact a little more meaningful.
My husband is extremely service oriented. If someone is in need he is the first one to jump up and say, "I will help." At times I worry he doesn't know how to say no, but over the years I have recognized in him a need to never look back and say, "I should have..." I honestly believe that is why he's so sick today - his body simply couldn't keep up with his willing heart.
When we serve those around us there becomes a softening in the relationship, for we are putting our needs away for a time to focus instead of another soul in need. It is one of the ultimate ways for us to truly come to know Christ and how He lived His life, for there is no better example of loving service than that of our Savior.
My husband has learned to be a fantastic listener. He knows when to offer advice and when someone simply needs to talk. He has learned to approach people he doesn't know and welcome them with open arms. He has been a shoulder to cry on, an arm upon which others lean, and a trusted voice of reason. His hands have joined others in giving blessings to those who are sick or otherwise afflicted, those who mourn, and those who simply need words of guidance and comfort from their Heavenly Father. He is loved by those he has served in ways he will never comprehend.
Of course, were a person to say any of this to his face, he would deny it all, unable to see what good he has done. As we all tend to do with ourselves, he constantly berates himself for never doing enough, for never being enough, and for looking more on negatives than positives. And at times this idea makes him try to be every thing to every body, which means he burns out - like today. For myself, though I hate to see him sick, I am grateful it forces him to stop and focus on himself and his need to rest. This same sentiment was echoed many times over today by different members of his congregation.
I know the difference this wonderful man has made in the lives of others, even if he doesn't always see it himself. I even know there are those out there who love me more than words can say. I also know it is because of the love we try to give in various ways that we receive this love back. We are not perfect, not by any means, but we keep trying.
I ask for you to take some time out of incredibly busy schedules, find just one person, and begin to express your love for them in little ways. Pray for them. Pray for ways of expressing love to be shown to you. Write a friend a little note saying what you admire about him/her. Do the dishes for your mom. Take the trash out for your dad. Make your husband's favorite dinner. Offer to take your wife out so she doesn't have to cook. Spend some quality time reading a book with your child. The possibilities are endless.
I love my husband. I am grateful he is taking time out to sleep today, to rest and recover. I also hope he'll get better fast, for I know what a crazy few weeks he has with work and church. I am incredibly proud of the man he is, for his willingness to serve both our family and our ward family. He constantly reminds me of what I need to do to be a better person, even if I do it whining a lot of the way. I only hope one day he will be able to know how much the love he has given is returned.
In and of itself this may not seem like a big deal, but my husband is not just your ordinary church-goer (if there is such a thing as an ordinary church-goer). You see, he is a bishop over a ward in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (also known as the Mormon Church). He is the figurative father of a local congregation, or ward. He is their spiritual leader. And today he was greatly missed.
As news of his nasty sickness spread throughout the meeting person after person came up to ask me about him. Was he okay? How was he feeling? Was there anything they could do? Wish after wish for a speedy recovery was pressed upon me to pass along to him. Much love was expressed, and promises of prayers being offered in his behalf. Even as my heart grew warm with the utter love and concern shown for him, I knew there was no way even I - a self-proclaimed artist with words - would be able to let him know just how much he was missed, and how much the people he has served over the last four years loved him.
One person. Just one person has had an amazing effect on a group of people. I began to think throughout the day about how precious a single individual can be to another, especially as that was what our lesson in young women's was on today. What are we doing to personally enrich the lives of those around us, to make that relationship between ourselves and those with whom we come in contact a little more meaningful.
My husband is extremely service oriented. If someone is in need he is the first one to jump up and say, "I will help." At times I worry he doesn't know how to say no, but over the years I have recognized in him a need to never look back and say, "I should have..." I honestly believe that is why he's so sick today - his body simply couldn't keep up with his willing heart.
When we serve those around us there becomes a softening in the relationship, for we are putting our needs away for a time to focus instead of another soul in need. It is one of the ultimate ways for us to truly come to know Christ and how He lived His life, for there is no better example of loving service than that of our Savior.
My husband has learned to be a fantastic listener. He knows when to offer advice and when someone simply needs to talk. He has learned to approach people he doesn't know and welcome them with open arms. He has been a shoulder to cry on, an arm upon which others lean, and a trusted voice of reason. His hands have joined others in giving blessings to those who are sick or otherwise afflicted, those who mourn, and those who simply need words of guidance and comfort from their Heavenly Father. He is loved by those he has served in ways he will never comprehend.
Of course, were a person to say any of this to his face, he would deny it all, unable to see what good he has done. As we all tend to do with ourselves, he constantly berates himself for never doing enough, for never being enough, and for looking more on negatives than positives. And at times this idea makes him try to be every thing to every body, which means he burns out - like today. For myself, though I hate to see him sick, I am grateful it forces him to stop and focus on himself and his need to rest. This same sentiment was echoed many times over today by different members of his congregation.
I know the difference this wonderful man has made in the lives of others, even if he doesn't always see it himself. I even know there are those out there who love me more than words can say. I also know it is because of the love we try to give in various ways that we receive this love back. We are not perfect, not by any means, but we keep trying.
I ask for you to take some time out of incredibly busy schedules, find just one person, and begin to express your love for them in little ways. Pray for them. Pray for ways of expressing love to be shown to you. Write a friend a little note saying what you admire about him/her. Do the dishes for your mom. Take the trash out for your dad. Make your husband's favorite dinner. Offer to take your wife out so she doesn't have to cook. Spend some quality time reading a book with your child. The possibilities are endless.
I love my husband. I am grateful he is taking time out to sleep today, to rest and recover. I also hope he'll get better fast, for I know what a crazy few weeks he has with work and church. I am incredibly proud of the man he is, for his willingness to serve both our family and our ward family. He constantly reminds me of what I need to do to be a better person, even if I do it whining a lot of the way. I only hope one day he will be able to know how much the love he has given is returned.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Do You Ever Get the Feeling?
Do you ever get the feeling someone really doesn't like you? Well, maybe that's going a little too far. Let me explain.
I have a person in my life whom I know primarily over e-mails and Facebook. She has been going through a VERY difficult time the last year - things I cannot possibly even begin to empathize with as I have (thankfully) never had to deal with them myself. The thing is, she refuses acknowledge anything might possibly be wrong. I hear most of what's really going on through her family.
This...friend...for some reason needs everyone in her world to believe life is just perfect. Yet when one takes a close look at her letters and such, one can see the sadness hiding therein. Perhaps it's because I've read "between the lines" a few times too many and tried to get her to open up, but recently she seems to have placed a good, solid, concrete wall between us.
"I'm just fine," she says. "I don't know what you're talking about," she'll write. It gets frustrating for me for one simple reason: nobody's life is perfect. Everyone - even the happiest of us all - have things not going as well as we'd like. So to say there is nothing wrong, especially when her writing is telling me different, feels a little like a slap upside the head.
Obviously today I'm just feeling frustrated, but I do find hope in the fact I felt like sitting down and writing about it. Writing has not felt like something I've wanted to do in too long (part of the depression my counselor says). I just can't help thinking that someone cannot feel truly connected to the people around him/her if he/she is not willing to open up and be themselves, good and bad included.
Of course I realize people protect themselves from getting hurt and most often have a billion wonderful reasons to keep to themselves. But when you start coming off as fake, when I can see the heartache behind the "I'm just fine," well, what am I supposed to do? Do I leave her to wallow in the misery she won't acknowledge, or do I continue to stand in front of the concrete wall hoping one day it will start crumbling down?
Knowing me...I'll still be standing.
I have a person in my life whom I know primarily over e-mails and Facebook. She has been going through a VERY difficult time the last year - things I cannot possibly even begin to empathize with as I have (thankfully) never had to deal with them myself. The thing is, she refuses acknowledge anything might possibly be wrong. I hear most of what's really going on through her family.
This...friend...for some reason needs everyone in her world to believe life is just perfect. Yet when one takes a close look at her letters and such, one can see the sadness hiding therein. Perhaps it's because I've read "between the lines" a few times too many and tried to get her to open up, but recently she seems to have placed a good, solid, concrete wall between us.
"I'm just fine," she says. "I don't know what you're talking about," she'll write. It gets frustrating for me for one simple reason: nobody's life is perfect. Everyone - even the happiest of us all - have things not going as well as we'd like. So to say there is nothing wrong, especially when her writing is telling me different, feels a little like a slap upside the head.
Obviously today I'm just feeling frustrated, but I do find hope in the fact I felt like sitting down and writing about it. Writing has not felt like something I've wanted to do in too long (part of the depression my counselor says). I just can't help thinking that someone cannot feel truly connected to the people around him/her if he/she is not willing to open up and be themselves, good and bad included.
Of course I realize people protect themselves from getting hurt and most often have a billion wonderful reasons to keep to themselves. But when you start coming off as fake, when I can see the heartache behind the "I'm just fine," well, what am I supposed to do? Do I leave her to wallow in the misery she won't acknowledge, or do I continue to stand in front of the concrete wall hoping one day it will start crumbling down?
Knowing me...I'll still be standing.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Hypocritical Cupcakes
This is perhaps the busiest week birthday-wise in our family, with three to celebrate. Two of those birthdays happen to be two of my own kiddies, and with happy hearts they both took cupcakes to share with their school classes yesterday.
Both of them came out of class positively grouchy. In fact, B said, "You know the green monster on Sesame Street?"
"You mean Oscar the Grouch?"
"Yeah. I think I was really grouchy today."
Hmm.
After a bit of prodding, he finally told me he wasn't too happy with his classmates that day. Apparently he noticed kids who normally don't pay much attention to him were trying to play and talk with him at recess. He said they yelled if they didn't get the ring (decoration on the cupcakes) they wanted, and after a while they were just giving him a headache.
Things didn't seem to go much better for M. She came out of school, the corners of her lips turned downward.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She handed me the bag which contained the cupcakes...it was empty. There should have been about nine left, and that's if every one of the kids showed up at class that day.
M's supposed friend had grabbed the bag the moment they got out of class and yelled out to the kids, "Who wants another cupcake?" They were gone in moments, and M didn't even get to give a sweet little girl who wasn't in her class a cupcake. She was so upset. Frankly, so was I. A part of me wanted to go find this "friend" and have a good talk with her, then make her pay me for all the cupcakes she essentially stole from us.
As you can see, I was not a happy camper. M is talking about never doing cupcakes on her birthday again, and I'm not sure B will want to as well. Yet, there were lessons to be learned. B now knows there are people out there who will pretend to be your friend when it looks like they can get something from you (he honestly came up with that on his own). M is in the process of learning she needs to stand up for herself with her friends. Sometimes she allows their opinions and actions to overrule what she knows to be right and fair.
Never easy lessons, but both necessary. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see if we still do cupcakes for either one next year.
Both of them came out of class positively grouchy. In fact, B said, "You know the green monster on Sesame Street?"
"You mean Oscar the Grouch?"
"Yeah. I think I was really grouchy today."
Hmm.
After a bit of prodding, he finally told me he wasn't too happy with his classmates that day. Apparently he noticed kids who normally don't pay much attention to him were trying to play and talk with him at recess. He said they yelled if they didn't get the ring (decoration on the cupcakes) they wanted, and after a while they were just giving him a headache.
Things didn't seem to go much better for M. She came out of school, the corners of her lips turned downward.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She handed me the bag which contained the cupcakes...it was empty. There should have been about nine left, and that's if every one of the kids showed up at class that day.
M's supposed friend had grabbed the bag the moment they got out of class and yelled out to the kids, "Who wants another cupcake?" They were gone in moments, and M didn't even get to give a sweet little girl who wasn't in her class a cupcake. She was so upset. Frankly, so was I. A part of me wanted to go find this "friend" and have a good talk with her, then make her pay me for all the cupcakes she essentially stole from us.
As you can see, I was not a happy camper. M is talking about never doing cupcakes on her birthday again, and I'm not sure B will want to as well. Yet, there were lessons to be learned. B now knows there are people out there who will pretend to be your friend when it looks like they can get something from you (he honestly came up with that on his own). M is in the process of learning she needs to stand up for herself with her friends. Sometimes she allows their opinions and actions to overrule what she knows to be right and fair.
Never easy lessons, but both necessary. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see if we still do cupcakes for either one next year.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
A Listening Ear
A woman called our home yesterday, hoping to speak with my husband about possibly receiving some welfare. Her story was so desperately sad I myself was in tears due to the intensity of her heartache.
There wasn't a whole lot I could do for her, but she didn't seem to mind. Her thanks to me boiled down to one simple thing: I gave her a listening ear.
It didn't feel like enough, but it had to be. As I've pondered over this, I've been reminded about how so many feel when they sit there listening to me vent and moan and get everything off my shoulders. They may not have any idea what it means to me to be able to talk to another adult about my problems, and to have them taken seriously. For me, it is often enough to have someone lend me a listening ear.
Someone to listen. Someone to recognize that our problems may not seem like a big deal to them, but it is a big deal to us.
At times it's so easy to brush off another's difficulties just because they're not a problem for us. I especially think about this with kids. Sure as adults we know another good friend will come along, or that the boy who's being mean today might ignore you tomorrow, or even that it's not such a big thing if we don't have hot dogs for dinner tonight even if we always have hot dogs on a Monday. To our tender hearted children, these things can mean everything.
I have had a lot of listening ears lately, for which I give many thanks. I can only pray my own ears will be open to bless others in the same way.
There wasn't a whole lot I could do for her, but she didn't seem to mind. Her thanks to me boiled down to one simple thing: I gave her a listening ear.
It didn't feel like enough, but it had to be. As I've pondered over this, I've been reminded about how so many feel when they sit there listening to me vent and moan and get everything off my shoulders. They may not have any idea what it means to me to be able to talk to another adult about my problems, and to have them taken seriously. For me, it is often enough to have someone lend me a listening ear.
Someone to listen. Someone to recognize that our problems may not seem like a big deal to them, but it is a big deal to us.
At times it's so easy to brush off another's difficulties just because they're not a problem for us. I especially think about this with kids. Sure as adults we know another good friend will come along, or that the boy who's being mean today might ignore you tomorrow, or even that it's not such a big thing if we don't have hot dogs for dinner tonight even if we always have hot dogs on a Monday. To our tender hearted children, these things can mean everything.
I have had a lot of listening ears lately, for which I give many thanks. I can only pray my own ears will be open to bless others in the same way.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
An Angel on Earth
I had amazing writing plans this week. I was going to post all I needed for teens on LDSBlogs.com. I was going to share with you oodles of way-cool spiritual insights I'd gained on Sunday. I was going to keep going in both my scriptural journal and my regular journal.
Then my world kinda skewed.
It's nothing tragic, unless you're me. About 2 1/2 years ago the most remarkable woman I've ever met moved in right across the street. I was doubly excited because her older boy was just the same age as my older boy.
Natalie has been like a balm to my soul. At the time she moved in I was feeling extremely low due to another friend having moved away. I don't make friends easily. I'm not talking about being socially acquainted with someone, nor about really liking someone you talk with once or twice a week. I'm talking about meeting with someone who opens up her entire heart to you, and finding your own hesitant heart welcoming such a warm spirit. I had been so lonely even my sweet parents had been praying for someone just like her to come into my life.
I don't easily hand my children over to someone else, even if it's just for a play date. Yet I never had to worry about them going over to Natalie's house. I knew they'd be well taken care of, and well loved. She had a most remarkably giving heart, rarely asking for anything in return. Though she was not active in our church, she never made me feel awkward about sharing my love of the gospel and my involvement in it. Though I outweigh her by a good 100 pounds, and she's infinitely more beautiful than I am, I never felt it. She mothered me and loved me so thoroughly I might have been another one of her sisters.
Throughout the last three or four months, Natalie's been trying to prepare me for this day. I knew it was coming, but I still wasn't prepared for the rush of emotion that overtook me when she uttered the words, "We've sold our house."
I cried hard for a half hour after we hung up our phones. I burst into intermittant sobs for an hour after that. My poor children and sweet husband kept giving me hugs to let me know they understood I was feeling sad. I even had to go to the dentist with this hanging over my head.
I've been trying really hard to be supportive, but worry I've been coming off cold. I don't want her to feel bad that she's moving away as I can see how much it hurts whenever my older boy's face tears up every time it's been mentioned. This is such a wonderful opportunity for their family, and with as quickly as it came about I know it was supposed to happen. Unfortunately it doesn't make the intense ache in my heart any easier to bear.
This post today is dedicated to anyone out there who has a friend like this, but especially to anyone out there who is a friend like this. Most of all I dedicate this to an angel on this earth who my Heavenly Father knew would heal my lonely heart.
Then my world kinda skewed.
It's nothing tragic, unless you're me. About 2 1/2 years ago the most remarkable woman I've ever met moved in right across the street. I was doubly excited because her older boy was just the same age as my older boy.
Natalie has been like a balm to my soul. At the time she moved in I was feeling extremely low due to another friend having moved away. I don't make friends easily. I'm not talking about being socially acquainted with someone, nor about really liking someone you talk with once or twice a week. I'm talking about meeting with someone who opens up her entire heart to you, and finding your own hesitant heart welcoming such a warm spirit. I had been so lonely even my sweet parents had been praying for someone just like her to come into my life.
I don't easily hand my children over to someone else, even if it's just for a play date. Yet I never had to worry about them going over to Natalie's house. I knew they'd be well taken care of, and well loved. She had a most remarkably giving heart, rarely asking for anything in return. Though she was not active in our church, she never made me feel awkward about sharing my love of the gospel and my involvement in it. Though I outweigh her by a good 100 pounds, and she's infinitely more beautiful than I am, I never felt it. She mothered me and loved me so thoroughly I might have been another one of her sisters.
Throughout the last three or four months, Natalie's been trying to prepare me for this day. I knew it was coming, but I still wasn't prepared for the rush of emotion that overtook me when she uttered the words, "We've sold our house."
I cried hard for a half hour after we hung up our phones. I burst into intermittant sobs for an hour after that. My poor children and sweet husband kept giving me hugs to let me know they understood I was feeling sad. I even had to go to the dentist with this hanging over my head.
I've been trying really hard to be supportive, but worry I've been coming off cold. I don't want her to feel bad that she's moving away as I can see how much it hurts whenever my older boy's face tears up every time it's been mentioned. This is such a wonderful opportunity for their family, and with as quickly as it came about I know it was supposed to happen. Unfortunately it doesn't make the intense ache in my heart any easier to bear.
This post today is dedicated to anyone out there who has a friend like this, but especially to anyone out there who is a friend like this. Most of all I dedicate this to an angel on this earth who my Heavenly Father knew would heal my lonely heart.
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