Apparently I had a lot to say today.  I think this is my 4th post o' the day.  

I just wanted to fill in some of the details on Jason's recent calling to be the Bishop of the 9th ward, and some of the events surrounding that decision.

Let's start at the very beginning.  When we moved into our cute little house here, we thought it would be a great place to be for 3-5 years.  5 years MAX.  Well, it's been about 7 1/2 years now, and 4 kids later we are still here.  Did I mention this house really only has 2 official bedrooms?  We have had our bedroom in the formal dining room for a few years now.  It has a closet, so technically it can be considered a bedroom.  

Anyhow, anyone who knows me knows that I have been house-hunting for a couple of years now.  And I've been looking very seriously for the last year.  I really wanted to be in a more permanent house before Bennett started school.  When that didn't pan out, I wanted to be in a permanent house before Owen started school.  So imagine my delight when I found the most amazing house for sale, in our price range (sort of) in the neighborhood of my dreams, the Thrushwood-Sumac neighborhood down on the island.  I hate to even list the dreamy details of the place because it makes me a little (a lot) sad.   It was on a 1/2 acre wooded lot with terraced lawn, tarzan swing, forts already built, fabulous, incredible layout, TONS of space (6 bedrooms, 3 baths), and lovely pink draperies throughout.  :)   We were actually really excited because it has not been updated for many years, so we could really personalize it.  Jason and I are very particular, and didn't want anything that had been updated with chintzy cabinetry, ugly tile, etc.  So all in all, it was a complete dream.  Oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I'm so sad just thinking about it.

Why am I sad?  Because we made an offer on it (a very loooow offer) which they countered, at which point, we accepted the terms, signed all the papers, and were under contract to buy the home.  I was freaking out!  Of course no one in our neighborhood knew anything about this; we were nervous to tell anyone until it all worked out.  So we put our house on the market a couple of days later.  It went on the market on a Monday, and on TUESDAY, Jason received the call to be the new Bishop of the 9th Ward.

Picture my face in the Stake President's office as I am presented with the notion that I would have to say goodbye to my beautiful Thrushwood home and all hopes and dreams associated with it.  I covered my face, feeling a little out-of-body-ish.  I couldn't believe it.  But yet I could believe it.  And of course Jason would and could never say no to this calling.  I wouldn't have wanted him to.  Well, I mean, yes I would have, but not really and truly.  I had a weird plastic smile on as I told him and the Stake President that I would support Jason in this new endeavor. I felt so conflicted.  On one hand I was so proud of Jason for living in such a way that he would be considered worthy of this office.  Of course I will support him 100 %.  But there was a secret side of me wondering, "But what about my plans?  I had a good plan.  It's the perfect time to move.  The perfect house.  The perfect everything."

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach when I walked into our leetle tiny house that night.  I didn't feel like talking.  All I could see were all the repairs and flaws our house has that I was ready to turn over to somebody else.  Somebody as motivated to give this house a little TLC as we were when we first moved in.  All I could see was our boys crammed in the rooms upstairs, and our king-sized bed filling up the dining room.  I thought about how we can't fit around the kitchen table anymore.  And the need for a new roof.

You might be thinking that then I had a sudden epiphany, and my entire attitude changed to joy and gratitude.  I wish I could say that it did, but no, alas, I cried for many days. I sobbed as I met with our realtor to sign the papers backing us out of the contract and taking our house off the market.  And I had all this guilt.  Guilt, guilt, guilt.  Guilt for not feeling grateful for all the many gifts that I do have.  Guilt that my sorrow was detracting from what should be a better experience for Jason.  Guilt all around.

So it has been a month and a half since this whole thing occurred.  I spoke in church today with Jason, and shared some of my experiences with our ward.  And I was able to be truthful in saying that I am gaining some perspective on this turn of events, and I do believe the Lord knows what really is best for us.  I know Jason will be blessed because of his willingness to serve and sacrifice.  I can't say the same for myself.  I was less willing, but I am trying every day to be more aware of the ways our lives have already been blessed and changed by this experience.  I don't understand it all right now.  I still hate being crammed in our house.  But I am looking at more creative solutions, and really attempting to have a better attitude.  I know this is an opportunity for Jason, and as I said, I am very proud of him.  Basically, I am trying to see the big picture, which I have never been that great at to begin with. But I am trying, and I know it will work out somehow.  How or when?  I don't know.

There you have it.  I don't know how Jason has come this far with a whiner like me.  I sure love him.