It’s been almost 12 weeks since I lost my calling. I’m still callingless though I’ve made some small progress in making peace with the situation. I still hate it though, so there remains a long way to go…

I wasn’t there for my ‘vote of thanks’ from the congregation. It would have been too humiliating to stand choking back sobs with tears streaming down my face in front of everyone, assuming I could even have stayed in the chapel/overflow/cultural hall overflow.

I came here from wards where my help was desired and valuable. Even in the Pocatello ward where it was known from the start that I would be there for six months, I taught the Book of Mormon youth Sunday School class, subbed in Relief Society two times and spoke in Sacrament meeting twice. Within a month of moving in to a ward & my church records arriving, I was called to serve.

The three years that we’ve lived here have been a different story; the background may explain some of my current feelings (rejection issues aside).

Calling one: two weeks after moving here we dined with a family whose children were similar in age to our own. The father was one of the bishop’s counselors and we joked that he might have some inside information on when a calling would come my way. (Richard had already been asked to be an EQ instructor) He said that it should be pretty soon as all of the auxiliaries were ‘clamoring’ for me. In January (4+ months later) I was asked to teach Sunbeams. I loved the calling, prepared special activities and lesson-related snacks. In March my co-teacher was released, another couple was called to that class, and I was told I would receive another assignment. So I sat in the back of the Primary room week after week without anything to do. The Primary President suggested I should just go and enjoy Sunday School and Relief Society, so I did. Ephraim was born, I was back at church the next week, and I tried to enjoy SS & RS. I waited, and waited, and waited.

Example two: Ephraim was eight months old when two families with six year old autistic sons moved in to the ward. One was just a little behind age level, the other was roughly 18 months in development. I was in the Primary room to watch one of the children read a scripture verse, saw that no one really knew how to deal with either one of them and offered to help out. I finally had another assignment–to take the ‘younger’ boy to a room during Primary and play with him until church was over, kind of a solo nursery. We did this for about a month and then the family started attending the Spanish ward and I went back to the Primary room. Go ahead and go to Sunday School and Relief Society, I was told again. I was without an assignment but not officially released either.

Example three: The Relief Society President became my visiting teacher late 2006 and we talked about callings. She was surprised that I wasn’t doing anything. Not long after that I was called to be a RS teacher. I loved it and taught as long as I could during my pregnancy with Anya. I decided to ask someone to sub for me in May–good thing as Anya arrived the same weekend as my lesson would have been–and June. July was arranged to be subbed ahead of time with the stress of Anya’s health, and I was sick for August. I was so happy to be back to teach in September but by then it was too late–plans had been made to release me.  I taught a wonderful lesson that Sunday, unaware, and that was that. 

I had a hard time going to RS after that. It hurt to be there, to have someone else teaching lessons I’d prepared, to see that I was the only one released in the “shake-up” and to see the Bishop & RS President avoiding me.

I caught the Bishop in the foyer and joked that I was just too intimidating to the other teachers with my shining excellence and he smiled and said “yeah, something like that”. I followed up with suggesting that maybe it was because *I* needed remedial teaching lessons and he grinned and moved on to talk to someone else.

I snagged him a little later in the hallway by his office and asked in all seriousness if something was wrong, if I’d done something wrong. He told me that if it was something like that then he would have called me to talk about it. I asked if not that, why? He replied that “they wanted to shake things up a little” and moved on.

Another time the RS President was in line at the library when I was looking in the lost & found and asked how I was doing. I miss having something to do, I said. She nodded and asked for 30 copies of the paper she was holding. I found what I was looking for and moved on.

I had to leave RS early on the third Sunday in November–I’d made two or three comments that went along the outline of how I would have taught the lesson (not that I said this is how I would have done it, rather making longer comments or bringing out aspects she wasn’t particularly covering) my way of trying to compensate for not teaching and I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone as she ignored me even when no one else had their hand up.

I went to the other side of the building, hanging out in the hall until it would be time to pick up Ephraim from nursery. The Bishop walked by, clapped his hand on my shoulder, and asked how I was doing. I couldn’t hold back the tears as I said “I really miss my calling”. He patted my shoulder again and continued down the hallway.

My inability to just get over this has increasingly frustrated Richard. Anything to do with the ward or its building often brings tears, even apart from Sunday meetings. Because of the way this is affecting him I have redoubled my efforts to control the outward display of the conflicting emotions I feel.

During General Conference Elder Packer spoke of the importance of callings, of serving the Lord through His Church. I felt like I should e-mail the Bishop and tell him how much I wanted a calling. Then Elder Hales spoke about revelation and how it comes to the leaders of the Church from the Prophet all the way down to the local leaders. I felt like I shouldn’t write him anymore, or if I did, I should tell him how sorry I was for doubting the inspiration he had in releasing me.

So for whatever reason(s), the ward I’m in doesn’t need my help. If it’s truly the Lord’s will that I not serve, then I do I need to respect that and be patient in this affliction? Or could I conduct some kosher campaigning that would be okay whether it’s His will or not?

–Kudos to you, my extraordinarily persistent reader, for enduring to the end–