I posted this a few days ago, but here it is for those who didn't get a chance to read it:
Saturday evening was just rolling along. I was savoring recipes from my Food Network magazine (not a good idea when you're fasting, but I digress). . . when the Bishop calls. He wants to meet tomorrow. Sure, I say. . . is this. . .? Yes, he says, you're getting released. We're releasing the presidency before school starts. . .
New calling. Probably cub scouts leader or RS chorister or some calling that is just what I need but not what I want. I want to be with the girls. It's like a territorial thing, you know? Like every person that finds out you're in young women's is like, "Oh, I was in young women's and I LOVED it." Yes, you loved it. So did I.
I'd been planning this Young Women's Christmas lesson about Wise Men Still Seek Him and "We Seek After These Things" and the temple being the place we travel to now to be at the Savior's home. I was planning our Beehive president's (who has totally blossomed from awkward to wonderful in two year's time) surprise birthday party. I was thinking up ideas for Evening of Excellence and plotting how I could get to Girl's camp next summer. The girls had just helped me make my very first friendship bracelet. We were going to move to the twisty ones.
And talk about the presidency. I LOVED my presidency. The president is this mix of fun and love and creativity and joy and kindness and everything you'd want to be in 10 years from now with darling kids and a beautiful home and all the sunshine I needed when the days were dark. I need to stop. This is getting depressing.
I am so grateful for callings. I'm grateful that the Lord can turn burdens into light and that we get to experience a bit of his love in our stewardships for the seasons we have them.
Update: I am now the primary teacher to 12 8 and 9 year-old children.