The New Ward: Part 2

Just over seven years ago, we moved here after seven years living in Montana. I wrote this about my first experiences in the Union Park 6th Ward. Now, seven years later, here we are again in a brand new ward, only this time we didn't move. Boundary changes took almost all the former 6th ward members and moved them to the 4th ward. A tiny handful of us are going to the 3rd ward. Well right here is what I wrote about that just last week when the changes were announced.

Today was our first Sunday in the new ward. How was it, you might be asking? Scary. Okay, maybe that's overreacting. Intimidating. No, not really that. Unsettling. Yeah, let's go with that. It is a much larger ward than the former 6th ward, and with the five-ish new families, it's even bigger. There were people all the way back in the overflow. I sat behind Labrums and Metcalfs, and I could see Kinghorns. Other than that, I felt entirely surrounded by strangers. So many of them!

Of course all the normal anxiety questions filtered through my mind. Will I ever find my place here? Will I ever get to serve? Will my calling be anything I actually want to do? Will I get to speak quarterly like I do in my current ward? Will anyone like me? Will I ever recognize these 200 people and know their names? Okay, calm down, Terrianne. This isn't helping.

The couple who spoke in sacrament meeting told us we didn't need to learn their names because they will be leaving the ward in a month. Excellent. That's two I don't have to worry about. The best hour was definitely Gospel Essentials class. Gospel Doctrine meets in the chapel, and that's way too big a room to have a productive, meaningful discussion, so Emily and Trent and I went to Gospel Essentials. Keep in mind that I recently spent five years in that class (in the same room even!), so yeah, it felt pretty comfortable. It was a small group of eight people, including Emily, Trent, and me, and the teacher facilitated a decent discussion on missionary work. Score!

The third hour was a joint Relief Society/Priesthood meeting for the fifth Sunday. The bishop taught, and he tried to demonstrate how he knows the names of all the new people, except he definitely doesn't know ours, but at least he tried. The lesson was about how to prepare for General Conference, and he brought forth several ideas, and others had some good thoughts to add. He didn't mention stocking up on Twinkies, Pringles, Red Vines, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Oreos, and other essential Conference food; he probably just forgot.

After the block, they hosted a "linger longer" (you know, those things they have in singles' wards to get people to figure out if they want to date each other). Well, this was equally awkward, except without the dating component. They served cookies and water, and everyone walked around trying to decide whom to talk to, while feeling awkwardly conspicuous. For the record, I'm sure it wasn't any less awkward for the regular members than for us newbies.

Two things worth noting came out of the linger longer. I met the mother of one of Seth's friends, who is serving his mission in the Marshall Islands, so we were able to speak "mission mom," a language understood only by missionary mothers. Then Gerald met a girl who served in the Paraguay Asuncion Mission about 10 years ago. I didn't meet her, but Gerald says she's very interested in connecting on social media so she can follow Seth's mission.

The New Ward: Part 2. How was it, you might be wondering? It was okay. It could have been so much worse. And now we won't go back for two weeks because of General Conference next weekend.

Did you hear that? IT'S NEXT WEEKEND!!!!! I'm just a little excited. Along with the opportunity to sit at the feet of prophets, once again when they announce the number of full-time missionaries serving around the world, I will get to jump up and down and announce for all to hear: "ONE OF THEM IS MINE!"

I kinda love doing that.

"Your ward is being obliterated; resistance is futile."

Those words were spoken in January of 2009 by a friend of mine and bishop of our ward, a tiny ward in Billings, Montana called "Metra," one that would come to be remembered by many as the best ward in the entire church...ever! We were asked to attend a special stake meeting where we would learn about restructuring of ward boundaries in the stake. So we came, unsure what to expect, and hoping for the best.

The meeting began with the stake president informing us that one ward in the stake would be dissolved entirely and members dispersed to various other wards, while remaining wards would experience some change though not as dramatic. Which ward would be dissolved? Yes, our beloved Metra Ward. My friend and bishop was asked to speak briefly at that meeting, and that is when he shared his interpretation of what the stake president had told him: "Your ward is being obliterated; resistance is futile." He and I worked closely together, as I was the relief society president at the time. It was such a sad day...

...and not just for me. Eli also experienced the pain of change, as the young men were also scattered to and fro. His best friend, Jake, would no longer be in our ward. This was a transitional point for 16-year-old Eli, but teenagers are resilient. Eli bounced back much more quickly than I did and went on to lead the young men of the Skyview (new ward) Ward in many different ways.

Me? I struggled at first, but then I was called to be the primary chorister in the new ward, which is such a fun calling that, well, it's hard not to have fun.

Fast forward nine years. Last week we were informed that our regular block of meetings would be canceled this week, and we should all go to the stake center at 10:00 for a special stake meeting. No further details were given. Let the speculating begin! Was the stake president moving? Was an apostle coming to visit? The most likely situation? A change in ward boundaries.

I got up early and arrived a full hour before the meeting was to begin. I knew that everyone and his dog would show up to find out what was happening, and I was determined to sit in a soft, padded pew in the chapel, rather than in those back-breaking folding chairs in the cultural hall. Turns out there weren't even enough of those! For later arrivals, it was standing room only.

When the counselor announced that one ward would be dissolved, with others experiencing some sort of change though not as dramatic, I immediately texted Eli (who was sitting in the back on one of those folding chairs): "No way this could happen twice in one lifetime, reorganization of ward boundaries and only one ward being dissolved, and it's our ward. No way this could happen twice, right?"

Wrong.

Sure enough, it is our ward being dissolved. History has a tricky way of repeating itself. The tough part this time around is that almost everyone else is moving to the 4th ward together, and only a small handful of families will be going with us to the 3rd ward. I love so many that I'm losing. Ironically, for several years I hoped for boundary restructuring. I wanted some young men in the ward for Seth. Too often he was the only young man at the sacrament table, surrounded by adults.

But now he's off serving his mission, and after five years stuck in a corner (both literally and figuratively) teaching Gospel Essentials, I was finally released and called into my favorite auxiliary: Young Women! I've only been there 2.5 months. I've only taught four lessons. After a fabulous youth conference, we were just starting to talk about Young Women in Excellence (which a former friend used to lovingly call "Young Women in Mediocrity" but that's a whole other story). Second only to the people I will miss so much, this is the hardest part of this change. Can I say for the record that I love serving in Young Women. Really, I do. It's kinda breaking my heart.

"Your ward is being obliterated; resistance is futile." So we move forward. We face the unknown. The scary parts. We start over. We struggle to embrace faith and reject fear. In his talk this morning, President McIllese quoted the final line from the hymn Now Let Us Rejoice: "And Christ and his people will ever be one." May we hold tight to that truth in these coming days and weeks.

Not the same river and not the same man

One of my favorite quotes comes from a Greek philosopher born in 544 b.c. Yep, they were pretty smart back then. Heraclitus' famous quote reads, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”

I've thought about these words often through the course of this past summer, a season filled with both angst and joy; experiences not to be replicated, ever; hopes unrealized; fears both rational and irrational, and way too much self doubt. I think Heraclitus was thinking of me as he wrote.

So much can be gleaned from this talk of a river. On the surface, it speaks of missed opportunities. Once past, most opportunities are lost. That doesn't mean new ones won't come about; they will, but not likely the same ones. I'm reminded of my decision not to study abroad my junior year of college. Already approved for the program, which would place me in Munich, Germany for two semesters, I was crushed by my father's sudden death, just three months before I was to leave. My love affair with the German language began and ended there. I didn't go. I should have. I have had numerous amazing opportunities in my life since then. I've traveled to London and to Central and South America. I've seen Neil Diamond in concert three times. I got to be a mother to five of the most amazing humans ever born! But no, the opportunity to live in Germany for two semesters will not likely present itself again. It's not the same river. I'm not the same [wo]man.

Heraclitus' words also speak to the challenge (and usually the failure) to recreate past experiences. Have you ever tried to replicate a perfect date, vacation, party, celebration? You go back to the exact same place, invite the same people, even get the same food and wear the same clothes. But it never feels quite the same. It might still be wonderful, but no, not the same. That dang river again. And you. Circumstances at my job this summer have created a bit of a stressful "river," and most definitely a different one: not the same river and not the same me. I'm a little frightened to return, truth be told. Hoping I can surreptitiously make my way up the stairs and then slide unnoticed into my classroom, where I am always happy because of a bunch of cool kids who are my students, but who teach me every day.

Then there's this whole mission deal. Close friends have remarked, "It seems like you're struggling way more this time around." Yep. And Luke and Eli, if you're reading this, that is not because I love Seth more, and you know that, so don't even go there. It's just not the same river this time. You were 21 and 19, respectively. You had both lived away from home and attended college out of state. You seemed so much older than Seth. I had adjusted to that separation, gradually, with frequent phone calls, text messages, and visits. When Luke left, I had a 20-year-old, a 15-year-old, a 13-year-old, and a 6-year-old, and I was relief society president! Also, you two served in the states, where I knew you were relatively safe. You had access to first-rate medical care, so even when Sister Smith called to tell me you (Eli) were in the emergency room after being bit by a Brown Recluse Spider, I knew you were safe and in excellent care in a hospital in Arkansas.

This is not the same river at all. Remember how I sent you guys letters in envelopes every week and made sure they arrived exactly on Friday, between p-day emails? I can't do that this time because letters take about seven weeks to get to Paraguay, if they get there at all, which they usually don't. I have to settle for emailing once a week. It's so hard.

And I am not the same [wo]man. Going through all those "lasts" with my very last baby this past year has changed me. Of course it has! I'm not quite sure what to do with myself from here, but as I stood in Seth's bedroom this morning, staring at the giant Paraguay flag hanging on the wall, I prayed for him, for his safety, for his faith, for his overall well-being, because that was the only thing I could think of to do. The song says "Sacrifice brings forth the blessings from Heaven." I found that to be absolutely true with my two other missionaries, so even though it's not the same river this time, I have faith that will be true once again.

Some moms count Fast Sundays

I've heard that some missionary moms count Fast Sundays. So there are 24 Fast Sundays in a 2-year mission. If I'm counting Fast Sundays, I'm one down, 23 to go. If I'm counting weeks, I'm one down, 103 to go. If I'm counting days....nope, not doing that. Too many. I think I'll count Fast Sundays. Yes, that's what I'll do.

One week in, I'm actually doing pretty well. Today, that is. Yesterday, was another story. I knew I'd get email yesterday, and I was a hot mess. Really, people, I need to get a handle on this because my body can't do this every week for the next two years. I was physically ill. Yep, so anxious that my body reacted, as it often does, with stomach illness. Blah!

I had just returned home from a six-day party with my family in Portland. My goal was to distract myself this first week of the mission, and it worked for the most part. So thank you, Mom, Tom, Leslie, Carley, Katie, Sydney, Finn, Jacqueline, Silas, Jason, did I miss anyone? Thank you for all the laughter, the food, the total fun. I love you and can't wait to come back. Which I can do sooner than later, thanks to the $300 in Delta flight credit I earned for moving my flight back just 90 minutes. Totally worth it! Here are some highlights:

Left to right in back: Leslie, Katie, me, Mom, Carley

In front: Silas and Tom

The beautiful Oregon coast

 Playing fascination!

Okay, I totally HATE selfies, but this day must be documented. I got up, walked outside my mom's condo, and what was falling from the sky? Yep, glorious rain! Oh the joy!

Another thing I did while in Oregon was attend a reunion of my Rainbow assembly. Rainbow is a little hard to explain to those unfamiliar with it (I've tried with my kids, and they just laugh at me), but here's a link from last year that explains it best I can. This time we met at Dorene's home and spent three hours in her lovely backyard, catching up, reminiscing, loving each other. I do love these girls. They are forever friends and "sisters." Thanks for gathering while I was in town.

But back to yesterday. Oh. My. Goodness. I had to wait until 12:45 p.m. for Seth's email to come in. That was 6 3/4 hours after I awoke to teach a Chinese kid. Can you spell A-N-X-I-E-T-Y? The good news, no the best ever news, is the incredible relief that came at 12:45, when those emails finally arrived, one just to me, and one to Seth's giant email group. His genuine voice, tone, and personal writing style shined through each line. Guys, he is so happy to be at the CCM (MTC). Says it's hard as heck, really the hardest thing he's ever done, but he is so grateful for this opportunity and is learning and growing daily from teachers he loves with a district he loves and with a companion who has already become a friend.

Today, I started a blog for his emails and pictures. I probably won't post those to Facebook, but feel free to copy the address and check it out any time you like:

Title: Far and Wide His Love Proclaim: Elder Erichsen's Emails
Blog address: eerichseninparaguay.blogspot.com

Meanwhile, here are some pics from yesterday:

Seth's district in the Mexico CCM

Elders Erichsen and Frost, companions at the CCM.

...and let me tell you a little story of grace related to that. Elder Frost's mom, Jenn, joined the "Families of Paraguay Asuncion (not north) Mission" Facebook group about the same time I did, after both our sons received their mission calls. She's from Phoenix, but both Seth and her Caleb would report to the Mexico CCM August 28th, and then travel on to Paraguay six weeks later. Jenn and I started communicating right away, discussing everything from their travel documents to their farewells to the question burning in both our hearts: How are we going to send our precious babies to South America? We became friends. And what do you know? Our sons became CCM companions. Coincidence? I think not.

Some moms count Fast Sundays. I am now one of those moms. Because look at him! Cutest missionary ever. Okay, tied with Luke and Eli.

But look at our baby! I wish him joy, strength, health, and happiness. I wish him faith to overcome the many challenges of missionary life. May he love the people. May he find those who are searching. May he pray always. May his testimony of his Savior grow. May he smile often.

Some moms count Fast Sundays. One down, 23 to go!