We've got twenty-five days left until departure.
Two weeks ago, Brent informed me that our Bishop had asked us to speak in Sacrament Meeting on July 12th. Our Bishop is an incredible man. He is kind and thoughtful. He is friendly and warm. He has FIFTEEN children (no multiples); and is wife is the sweetest woman alive. But even knowing this, I did not react well to the news.
"WHAT??? Doesn't he know that I am already stressed beyond my capacity? Is he TRYING to send me over the edge? It's only been like eight months since the last time that we spoke in Sacrament Meeting! No. No way. You'll just have to tell him that I can't do it. What about my NURSING baby? And Cooper? What are we supposed to do with the wild one while we're sitting on the stand?"
I admit it; I'm a bit explosive. And then I breathe and calm down and I'm fine; sort of. So a minute later, feeling a bit embarrassed, I asked Brent what topic it is that we're speaking on.
"The Temple," he said.
"OK, I can do that." (At least I think I can; at least I was given three weeks to prepare, right?)
Flash forward to two days ago. Our stake was just re-organized and we lost some members in order to make a branch into a ward. Our wonderful RS Pres. emailed me to say that she is re-organizing Visiting Teaching and would I mind if she just took me off of my route a month early? She said that I'm welcome to continue if I'd like, but that she understands that I have a lot going on and doesn't want to add to my stress. She then proceeds to apologize for being out of town (she was gone for just a week), and for her PTA position taking too much time from her calling, and is there anything that she can do to help me prepare for our move?
That, my friends, is the difference between men and women.