There are some minutes and even some hours in some days where I just sit and stare out the window, thinking about my life and my family and my friends, and I feel a huge sadness that I’ll be leaving this place for awhile. I won’t see what’s out my window, or see my children very often, or see my friends for 3 years. It’s a feeling that pulls my heart down into a sad achy place. I wonder how I will do it. I wonder about all the things that will happen while I am gone. I wonder what excitement in the lives of my friends will be missed. I wonder if some of my dear older friends may go and be gone when I come home.
I will miss out on conversations with friends, or weekends with children home from school. I will leave behind piles of books in every room I intended to get to this next year. Quilt projects that have been on hold will stay on hold. My front door will be locked and no one will come visiting.
Who will pull the weeds? Who will welcome children to the playground? Who will hang Christmas lights or take them down? Who will plant pumpkins for Halloween, or harvest the grapes in the Fall? Who will love the things around me that I love, every day I’m here?
It’s an interesting thing to consider going away for awhile. Life will carry on here, day by day, as it has before, as it does now. I just won’t be here to feel it in this place.
I wonder what I’ll be thinking after 3 years in Washington. I’ll bet my feelings will be similar, on a quiet day like today, as we take down the Christmas tree. I will be thinking about who I’ll be leaving behind in that place, wondering how I will ever live without being near them.
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“Who will love the things around me that I love, every day I’m here?
It’s an interesting thing to consider going away for awhile. Life will carry on here, day by day, as it has before, as it does now. I just won’t be here to feel it in this place.”
Very tender thoughts, Ann.
My response is not an answer to what you wrote so beautifully because it needs no answer. Your thoughts are the very real human longings for family seasons, the home you’ve grown and the people you’ll miss.
It reminded me of sitting with men for four years that missed so many opportunities from their addiction. Those losses were often a hindrance to their recovery because of the enormous weight of regret and shame they carried. I struggled with the concept of loss for a while, then the Holy Ghost taught me there are lost opportunities in life but for Jesus Christ, there are never lost blessings. In the spirit of Elder Renlund’s promises:
“The Savior loves to restore what you cannot restore; He loves to heal wounds you cannot heal; He loves to fix what has been irreparably broken; He compensates for any unfairness inflicted on you; and He loves to permanently mend even shattered hearts.”
Your and John’s humble and ministering angel-like service, even prior to Yakima, has blessed and moved me and Carolyn. How can anyone not believe in God knowing you?
Leaving things behind and answer the call of fhe Lord is the most important thing in the world. You leave to save souls. They need you and remember how joy Heaven will be when they’re converted.
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