Yesterday my husband got put into the bishopric of our ward as the second counselor.
A quick little bit of background for you—in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (more commonly referred to as the LDS or “Mormon” church), members are called to serve in various capacities in the congregations to which they pertain. All callings are voluntary and unpaid, and no one self-elects himself (or herself) to any calling—it is all done under the authority of the leadership of the church. Although our church callings and responsibilities are a huge part of our lives, I haven’t taken much time to write about them on here, but I just want to make it clear that we take these church responsibilities very seriously.
Basically, a “bishopric” is a group of 3 men that, in effect, preside or watch over a congregation. The bishop is at the head of the congregation (hereafter called “ward”) and he has two counselors to help him in his many duties.
To make a long explanation shorter, it’s basically a pretty big responsibility — a Big Deal, if you will. And not only that, it’s highly unusual for someone as young as my husband (27) to get called to such a calling.
When we first got the news, we were a little shocked, and when we started to let our families know, we didn’t really know how to respond to the “Congratulations” he got (since it’s not really an honor or achievement you ever aspire to—it’s just something that happens). Basically, we’ve kind of been going around in a daze wondering how on earth this is going to affect the next little part of our lives.
If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, you might remember my “Bloom Where You’re Planted” post, in which I confessed how sad I was over Matt not getting into a PT school this first year of applying and in which I sent out the hope that there’s likely a greater purpose in our staying here another year than in leaving right away for grad school somewhere else.
I think this calling might be part of that greater purpose.
For the past two years, I have served as the president of the Young Women’s Organization in my ward, a calling that has required a LOT of growth and increased faith from me. Throughout these two years, I’ve often felt inadequate, but I also KNOW that the calling was divinely inspired, as it helped push me towards skills I needed to develop (like how to do family history and genealogy) and people I needed to meet. I know that Matt’s calling will do the same for him. And with my husband’s new calling, I will be released from my calling as president very soon and called to something else, and thus marches forth the next phase of our personal and marital progression.
A concept I became very familiar with while on my mission in El Salvador was that as soon as you get comfortable with something, that’s usually the time that a drastic change comes along. As human beings constantly seeking for comfort and ease, it would be altogether entirely too tempting for us (if we were completely running the show of our lives) to just have everything remain the same most of the time.
But the thing I love about serving in my church is that as soon as I get comfortable doing something (finally), that’s almost always the time I’m called to do something else. And in that way, I am basically guaranteed to constantly be growing personally, meeting and serving new people, and developing different skill sets. It’s a marvelous system really, if not always a comfortable one.
My husband will do a wonderful job with his calling–he is a humble man that knows how to seek out guidance through prayer and ask questions of both the Lord and others, and he has a deep capacity for service and love and sensitivity that is rarely seen in the world nowadays. Like today, he woke up early with me and packed my lunch, and since the only thing we had for me to take was a leftover burger from our barbecue yesterday, he proceeded to devise the most ingenious way of making sure my hamburger had all the fixings and didn’t get soggy–he packed the bun and patty separately, and then he proceeded to put perfect quantities of ketchup and mustard into little baggies, where he pushed the condiments into the corners so I could pipe them out like frosting. And then of course, he didn’t forget to pack the pickles too in their own separate bag. It seems like such a little thing, but it’s always meant a lot to me that my husband is always willing to go the extra mile as he serves and loves others, which is why I’m excited to see how he’ll be magnified even further to serve in this new capacity.
Sorry for the rambling nature of this post, but I just wanted the record to show that I’m proud of my husband and of the good man he is—he truly is one of the greats.