In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn't go to church today.
I should be in Relief Society right now, but I'm not. I am at home. Surrounded by a nest of blankets while I sit on my laptop. Scrolling through Facebook. Blogging, obviously. Chomping on ice. Missing my husband for the next hour or so until he gets back home. Definitely not dressed in my Sunday best. And of course, I have a million excuses for it all: I'm tired, my back hurts, I just want to play Pokemon Fire Red in bed... Okay, so that's three excuses. But there we are.
And so I have that lingering feeling of guilt tickling at the back of my mind about it, because you know, I actually am okay with going to church right now. My heart and spirit really do feel renewed, and whether it's a general attitude shift on my part or an inexplicable attitude shift in my ward or what I believe to be a combination of both, the past few weeks have been really good (and thusly, surprisingly healing) there. I've felt welcomed. I've felt loved. I've even vocally participated in class and not felt entirely crazy when I crossed into the feminist-y side of my faith.
Next week again, I tell myself to calm my anxious conscience. Next week. And amazingly, I mean it--not just grudgingly, but in a spirit of firm desire.
Meanwhile, I find myself employed (full-time, even!) again for the first time since September. Robbie and I had talked about me going back to work for a long time before this point, because I've felt so useless at home and honestly we really needed the money, but I've put it off. Of course, for much of the time, I've been legitimately sick. But then, I think I was just scared of recommitting to something like that when I'd have to leave again soon anyway. I was scared of having other people depend on me again. And so I stayed at home and watched about three more British mini-series on Netflix since the last time I posted. Then suddenly at the end of January a series of dramatic events (that probably aren't appropriate to discuss in an open setting like this) set in motion, and before I knew it, I was determinedly applying for a job again, and miraculously, I was hired.
At first, I was a little let down by the hiring. Not because I didn't want to be hired, because I wanted that more than anything, but it was not for any position that I applied to or interviewed for. I had intended to have a quiet data entry or quality assurance position, but instead, I got a phone position, which I had specifically requested against. I hate working the phones pretty much across the board. I hate the stress of inbound calls and escalated customers. It's not healthy for me at the peak of my mental and physical performance, so entering my third trimester of pregnancy as I did that sounded utterly unappealing. But I accepted the offer all the same, because as has been at least implied, my hatred of being at home doing nothing for so long outranked even my hatred for call centers at this point, and the wage I was offered was nothing to complain about (especially compared to my $0 biweekly income for the several months previous). And Robbie and I had been praying recently for a healthy and appropriate way for me to be more active and even employed, both for my benefit and to better prepare our family for our baby's birth at the end of April, so I decided to take it on faith that despite that this was not close to the job I wanted, maybe it was actually the one I needed after all. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
And miraculously, it's not bad. I actually love it. I mean, I've only been working in this position for the past two weeks, and one of those weeks was training, but it is exactly what Robbie and I had been asking for. I ended up not being on the general inbound phone team, which most people even in my training group were, but a team that specifically takes care of our Hawaii customers in various stages of their early contractual processes with the company. It has largely outbound contacts to make instead of a constant stream of callers phoning in--I mean, we get inbound calls, and my first real day on the phones I did end my shift with a rather escalated customer, but it's overall comfortingly easy-going. And apparently Islanders are a pretty chill bunch, so that's even a lot nicer to deal with than rowdy East Coasters. Plus, my team is a small and tight-knit but inclusive group of people who I get along with really well so far. This is honestly the best place I could be right now, hand to God.
Our Heavenly Parents care about us, you guys, They really do, and They will lead us down the paths we need to take, and we will experience non-ironic tender mercies along the way.
And when I think about that, all of a sudden now I get these little glimpses into the exciting future I'll soon have with my own burgeoning parenthood. Last night I imagined the fantastic potential of the little human growing inside of me, who I still haven't actually met in body and definitely haven't overtly met in spirit, the mostly clearly I've been able to since I first became pregnant. I literally imagined worlds, galaxies, universes inside of him, instead of flesh and bone. I saw a flash of the beauty of his eternal destiny, the worlds without end extant inside of him even prenatally. I saw a glimmer of eternity I never have before. I realized more fully that now my personal hopes, goals and desires are much more significantly to raise him to receive his own divine inheritance than ever before. I see my purpose through his, and it's deeply moving, deeply humbling.
Is this how our Heavenly Parents see us, but on an unfathomably larger scale? I have to imagine so. And that gives me so much hope.
Life moves quickly and unexpectedly and even wonderfully, I've learned once again. Maybe this time I'll remember. Probably not, but I can dream.