Change

I have a natural aversion to change. I hate it, actually. Maybe not completely... But I hate change when it comes to something I care about, I guess.

And today change smacked me in the face again. I knew it was coming, but (for some stupid reason) didn't anticipate it being this hard.

Being the Young Women's president has been really, really hard for me. Of course, it's a challenge for anyone. But for me, I struggled with feelings of doubt and inadequacy constantly, second-guessing every decision I made, worrying that it was the "wrong" one, worrying that I was letting down the ward.

Right from the get-go I made major changes. Not that the previous president was doing her job wrong-- not in the least! But because, from some counsel our stake received from Elder Bednar back in June, I knew we needed to make our program "youth led"-- they plan, they lead, they execute. And making those changes was hard for us and it was hard for the girls. Although, the girls embraced their new-found leadership opportunities better than I thought they would.

We stressed missionary work, and we shared testimonies. We grew together.

And, yet, I never once felt like I was doing a good job. Adequate, maybe, but not nearly good enough. And honestly, I don't even know what "good enough" really means. In my mind, it means anything better than what I'm already doing.

Then a change in January. Kevin was no longer the bishop leading Ward Council and BYC. I couldn't attend mutual with him anymore, because he was no longer required to go. His new calling took him away from the ward, and I wouldn't see him anymore throughout the day, even for a brief moment. It has been like he disappeared on Sundays. I am just the lady up in the front of the chapel with no husband, the kids with no father.

And as of today, I have no calling. No responsibility. I was released from being the Young Women president, after only seven short months. We all wept as we met during the third hour today. I love my girls-- Alicia, Meredith, Bregan, Sydney, and Amy-- and now I have lost my weekly connection with them. I knew it was coming, though. It needed to happen.

And now I feel... completely unneeded.

There, I said it. Unneeded. No place to serve, no place to go. Feeling like no one knows me and like I don't "belong."

I watched the new presidency come together and smile and laugh after church, and I hung my head and my eyes filled with tears. What a wonderful friendship they will develop. Stefani stayed with them, and I will miss her. Cathy was called in the Relief Society as the secretary. Dear friends called off to new, great work.

And here I stand.

I just picture myself out on a plain-- a muted-brown, barren plain. Alone. Looking around for something, someone that needs me. And finding none.

And then... Over the horizon come four people. Four people that do need me. They giggle and run to me, throwing their little arms around me, smothering my face with their kisses.The oldest puts her head on my shoulder, the next wraps her arms around my waist, and the two younger ones grab my legs. And I weep... "Are you okay, Mom?" "We love you, Mom." "Mom, you are beautiful."

How I love my children.

Oh, "change"... It is just hard. And I only know I have much more of this to endure throughout my life. But, as for right now, at this very moment, I don't know how much more my fragile heart can take. All I can do is pray, really.

And I can focus on those little ones clinging to me in that open field. More than anyone else on this earth they need me.

They. Need. Me.

They need me to take them to church, to help them with their talks, to work with them through Faith in God (and soon, Personal Progress), to read the scriptures with them, to teach them what the gospel means for them. They need me to keep our home a safe place-- where they can find refuge from the world. I must provide consistency when change abounds all around them. And in that sense, I am their rock.

If I am not mistaken, I can't think of a greater responsibility.

For the first time today, actually, I am feeling some glimmer of hope-- like just maybe there really is an important place for me, for which there is no quick replacement.

Maybe I could even come to like change...

... Nah.