But like so often happens, that pain is turning into a springboard for the unfolding of an amazing process. Once I finally accepted the inevitable, I told my Bishop I was going to look for a rental, and the well-oiled wheels of the Mormon Relief Society for Women and the Priesthood Quorums started to turn. Within days, my RS president was on the phone, calling about rentals she had seen, and I was getting emails from other women in the ward who were scouring for signs in their neighborhood. When, unbeknownst to me, a small house next door to the Bishop for our YSA ward was spotted by a friend with a moving van in the driveway, both my Bishop and my RS president were on the phone to convince the landlords to rent the not-yet vacant house to me and my children.
I’m losing my house. It’s been a long, private and painful process coming to terms with it, and I’ve written about it on Dandelion, if you’re interested. Some might scoff in derision, as I, a blogger, use the word “private”, but for as much as I share, there are hours of quiet contemplation and pain before I open up the parts I’ve prepared for consumption. I’m losing my house, and it hurts like hell. But it’s something that is going to happen, no matter how much I wring my heart out.
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