When I made the decision to get a divorce it wasn't something I took lightly and came with an enormous amount of conflict, prayer and fasting. Followed by the feeling of having failed all of which was painted on a canvas of peace. I have no other way to describe how I felt at the time. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my marriage was over and in reality had been for a long time with me clutching onto the last string of hope that things would get better. There was a stilling peace behind all of the fears and uncertainty that faced me every day.
There have been a few occasions since then when I have been in a position to get to know people who were in a similar position at one time, some behind me on our long road and others ahead of me. I learned a fair amount of things I didn't want to do, attitudes I wanted to have, examples I wanted to set. I don't know that I always met my goal and I certainly didn't always do it with my chin up and smiling.
There are a few stories that if they were to end at the point I heard about them would have sad endings. I don't know what the rest of the story was for any of them, but as I sat and thought about the similarities and differences in our lives it always came down to the difference in support systems.
Amazing friends, Visiting Teachers, Home Teachers, Bishops and Relief Society presidents who never once told me what choices I should make but that I knew they would be there for me. From a well timed phone call when I needed it, to a friendly smile that I knew they cared how I was doing even though I didn't feel strong enough to put into words how I was doing my support group while not large in number was strong enough to move mountains and even more impressive, keep me upright. I also had a large group of friends offering me virtual support from pretty much everywhere. I never realized that {{{hug}}} could have as much love and support with it as a physical hug, but they can.
At a fairly vulnerable time for me they changed ward boundaries and nearly all of my closest support system was on the wrong side of the boundary line and I was crushed. I knew it was coming, I realized it would be hard but I remember sitting that first Sunday and looking around. I knew our new Bishop from Trek and one of the counselors was in the old 2nd ward. Scanning around the congregation from where I sat I could only see the family across the street that I knew. Others were there, I'd seen them walk in but I sat there in that crowded chapel feeling completely alone. I use to have people who would come sit by me when I didn't have the kids with me -- they were gone, and that small act had meant so much to me. The next week in Sunday School my seat was taken. My entire area of seats in fact and once again I looked for friends who were no longer there. There began my feeling invisible. I had no idea who my visiting teachers were, or if maybe I'd been left off of someone's list. I still don't know who my home teachers were for that first year.
I was very grateful for trek, I'd been assigned to my new Bishop's "family" for meals and sleeping. Everything else I was making sure that blisters were cared for, kids were hydrated, and twisted ankles were wrapped and being iced. I had almost no time to help cook or set up camp, but there was always food for me, my bedding was laid out at night, and a seat saved if I had the opportunity to listen to one of the firesides. I had no idea how important the trust would become in just a few months.
For the most part my support system has changed faces and perhaps very appropriately, the things I need now are vastly different than the things I needed early on. I am very grateful for all of my friends and family, sometimes it was just a sincere smile on a bad day or laughing at a sarcastic comment I made that kept me going. I don't know that I will ever be able to pay it forward for all of the things that held me up and kept me moving forward, but I have a full life ahead of me to try.
Late Entry:
I walked into the chapel today and my bench was taken. Kids are with their Dad and its not like I need a long row to myself. I scanned the congregation trying to decide where to sit when I thought back on this post. The chapel was filled with friendly faces I was happy to see. The last 18 months I've learned to trust and respect a new group that I call friends.
God is ALWAYS Good.
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