Yesterday I cleaned out my closet. Apparently it's been awhile since it was thoroughly cleaned. I found five bags of that lovely, long, white underwear that I stopped wearing almost two years ago. Some of them were maternity and nursing garments. My baby is 16. As I cleansed and purged I put all those bags in the trash. Not a qualm, not a second thought, not a twitch of the eyelid. Apparently I've been able to purge my brain of many of those ideas I no longer believe in.
Later that afternoon I stood outside talking to a friend wearing a tank top and capris. (I was wearing the tank, not my friend.) A scouting acitivity was going on in the church across the street. There stood the current and former Relief Society presidents. The bishop drove by and then his wife walked past and stopped to talk to my friend about uncoming scouting activities. I guess it's all out in the open now. They all got a close up view of Zena's white shoulders in all their uncovered glory.
The only feeling I still have is a touch of bitterness for the 18 years I spent serving in every possible calling in that ward. I had every one of those scouts in that parking lot in my nursery classes. Years of my life were spent in that church building with those people. And it all means nothing to them. Other families have moved in to the ward and have seamlessly filled that space that I left. I'm sure I'll get over this feeling too, though. I've found other things and people to replace them with as well. Life goes on and mine is taking a turn for the better.