Finally, tomorrow, I am a free woman.
Tomorrow I begin running my own shifts. I’ve already begun being paid as a manager, so that isn’t the perk I am most looking forward to. It’s the extra day off. Shift Supervisors work four ten hour shifts, and I already have so much planned for those three remaining days.
Today, after the annual trip to the Strawberry Festival, which takes place in the town in which I was raised, I drove home, falling asleep by the time I hit Millville. It was a 45 minute struggle, but I made it home in one piece.
As soon as I passed the threshold, the sleepiness evaporated, so I began to tidy the apartment. Week One of Three Days Off will involve Project Clean House. And my little OCD heart is so happy for it.
This morning, I managed to make it to church, and the ceiling didn’t even cave on my head.
Karlo and Lori are headed off to California, which was enough to completely dissolve me. Why is it that all the good families move away?
At least Bret and Kora came back.
And then I moved away.
It is a strange thing to have a full and bright testimony of the Gospel, but still not feel moved to action.
I know Joseph was a prophet and the Book of Mormon is surely scripture, but I have no desire to attend Church meetings.
And who will believe my insistance that I do not have a testimony problem, or any hidden sin? That I am not a project in need of fixing?
Such is the paradox of a powerful testimony with no faith to back it up.
Now, how do I slam this revolving door?