Living Happily Ever After
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Stressed Out

Date: March 27, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

In the midst of all the adventures—moves, work and everything else life brings—we had a very special one. My oldest son began the process of belong called to serve as a full-time missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It was something I’d anticipated his entire life. You see, the majority of young men in the L.D.S. faith serve missions from the age of 19-21 years old. (You’ve probably seen them—clean cut young men, wearing white shirts and black name tags, walking or riding their bikes to meet with investigators, volunteering in the community and talking to people about faith, Jesus Christ and the gospel He taught.) When young men are of that age (or shortly before they turn 19) they submit their paperwork to serve a mission and then are called to serve where they are needed.

They don’t get to choose where they serve. Missionaries leave behind family, friends, work, sports, schooling and any other interests and dedicate their lives to their missionary service for two years. You don’t get to see them other than in the pictures they might send home. (They send letters and emails, they can call home twice each year, but other than that, they are focused on their mission and you don’t see them in person until they return home when their mission is completed.) And they pay all expenses associated with their missionary service.

I’d always hoped this son would choose to serve a mission. I’d planned he would serve a mission. I’d raised him to serve a mission. (I’m anticipating it for all of my sons.) But somehow, all too soon, the time is almost here.

He filled out his paperwork, met with the appropriate church leaders, and his papers were submitted to Salt Lake City for assignment. All that was left to do was wait for his mission call to arrive in the mail. (I think our official wait was actually less than 2 weeks by the time everything was submitted. But somehow it seemed longer than that. A lot was unknown, so it made the time seem to pass slowly.) In the meantime, I had no idea how stressed out I would become!

Lets just say this motherhood thing is a whole LOT more than I anticipated when I first became a mother. Those days, I remember sitting on the couch much of the day, holding and enjoying my newborn baby boy all day long, sometimes watching a video while he slept in my arms (I never wanted to put him down I was so thrilled to be a mom!) thinking, “I don’t know what all these mothers have been thinking and saying, insisting motherhood is such hard work! I don’t know what they think they are talking about!” I seriously thought they had to have exaggerated a little bit! (Ah…youth. And inexperience, huh?)

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting for that envelope to arrive.

And I, who rarely remembers that mail is delivered daily much less to pick up said mail from my mailbox, suddenly started checking the mail every day.

“I believe in opening mail once a month, whether it needs it or not.” (Bob Considine)

Waiting.

The Packet

Date: March 19, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows, That we one jot of former love retain.” (Michael Drayton)

As I said, to obtain the necessary cancellation and clearance to remarry in a L.D.S. temple, a packet of paperwork must be completed and submitted to your local pastor.

As part of that packet, you must write a letter regarding your first marriage; when and where it took place, why your marriage ended, if there is any hope for reconciliation, and other personal information; your former spouse must write a letter–they’re free to share whatever they want to share, I think; your pastor must write a letter; and the pastor of the person you’re engaged to must write a letter. All of that is included with your application.

You must then be interviewed by your pastor.

You must then be interviewed by the local church leader who presides over your pastor’s congregation and several other L.D.S. congregations and pastors.

And then your packet is sent to Church Headquarters, in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Your fiance goes through the same application process on his end and his packet is also sent to Salt Lake City.

When both are received, the applications are reviewed. If information is missing, if more information is required, or if there are any other questions, the paperwork is returned for additional information. Sometimes a certain amount of time must pass before an application can be made. Sometimes it’s an issue of rounding everything up from everyone involved–it can take awhile! Factor in holidays, vacations, mail time, missed phone calls, wait time for appointments, and the rest of life…it takes a fair amount of time to complete the necessary paperwork, gather the required letters and obtain the authorization.

You never know how long it will take.

And as it is a very private matter, you don’t always know the reasons for the delays.

And you wait.

In my case, while you wait, you hear a lot of stories. And now here comes the gossip (feel free to skip it, every bit of the following is hearsay and could be completely inaccurate or untrue–having passed through who knows how many mouths and ears–but all shared with me by well-meaning people with the good intention of helping me know what to expect.) I call it “divorced L.D.S. gossip,” but here is just some of what I’ve heard the past 9 1/2 months: a church leader and his wife of 20 years STILL waiting for their authorization to be sealed in the temple; a worthy couple, both with regular temple recommends, waiting 2 years for their authorization to be sealed in the temple; a couple waiting four months for their authorization; and that the average wait for authorization is anywhere between 30 days and three months–it depends on each individual and situation, and to what degree additional information is needed.

I began the process, so did #5.

“What’s interesting about the process…is how often you don’t know what you’re doing.” (Alan Rickman)

Sold!

Date: February 9, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“This sentimental comedy…is said to have had a great success in its own country. So do fringed lamp shades.” (Richard Eder)

I determined not be sentimental about the sale of my violin. I didn’t really even let myself think about it. I just loaded my violin in the car and headed to Salt Lake City. The problem was that I had time to think as I drove to Mr. Prier’s store. And although I didn’t do it on purpose, my mind was flooded with memories of my parents, everything they had taught me and had done for me, competitions and concerts I had played with my violin, solos I’d had and even some funny memories–like how in the early stages of learning the violin, our family cat would attack me when I practiced.

As I drove, I started feeling pretty sentimental about the whole thing. Every few miles, I’d wonder if I should turn around and head home with my violin. But I kept driving. Too soon, I arrived at Peter Paul Prier. I parked my car and headed in.

The little shop stands exactly as it must have in the 1980s (and probably, earlier) when my parents walked through those same doors. Instead of a bell jingling your arrival as stores used to in the “olden days” of my childhood, Peter Paul Prier has a mechanism that strums the strings of a violin hung over the door when you open it. The walls have wood paneling. Art, depicting violins and European scenes, hangs on the walls. An adjoining room is lined with shelves of beautiful violins for sale.

Mr. Prier was on the phone, so I had time to look around the little store and soak up its atmosphere, which wasn’t good for me. It made me want to cry. I walked to the counter and saw the same receipt I had from my purchase–he still uses the exact same graphic and receipt paper! (I loved that.) I had plenty of time to sit and think about my parents being in the very same store, making a purchase–and there I was returning it for money almost 30 years later. I’m sure my parents had no idea how much their purchase would help me at a later date just as I’d never imagined the day would come that I’d return their gift.

The longer I sat there, the harder it got. I hoped Mr. Prier would soon appear so I could sell him my violin and get out of there before I started to cry. Finally, he came. He walked out, eyes twinkling, a slight German accent to his English and asked how he could help me. I showed him my violin and told him I’d like to sell it. He inspected it, told me a little bit about it, showed me special things about my violin and I gave him the original receipt. He asked why I wanted to sell it.

I didn’t expect him to ask me that. I didn’t have a smooth answer prepared so I told him the truth: I was divorced, a single mother of four children, and I needed the money. He looked at me with surprise, and said something like, “What? A nice woman like you? That is too bad.” For some reason, I explained that I am a nice woman; my divorce was the result of crimes committed by the man I was married to, that he is incarcerated, that I lost everything of value in a government seizure but I’d been allowed to keep my violin because my parents had purchased it in 1982, long before my marriage or my former spouse’s crimes. (I don’t know why I did that. I know better than to share my story!)

He nodded his head, told me what he would give me for my violin, I agreed to the amount, and he went to his office to write the check. While he was gone, I struggled to reconcile myself to what I was doing. Just when I thought I had moved on and healed from everything, apparently there was another undiscovered chapter to close. I was affected by it. I tried not to be. I fought back the tears. I just hoped I could get out of there before they began to roll.

Mr. Prier returned, came from behind the counter, gave me the check out and promised me it would clear when I cashed it. I held the check, but he didn’t let go right away. He offered some very kind words to me, along with the money, and that was when I did start to cry. So there I stood like a total idiot, crying, as Peter Paul Prier said I was a nice woman, he hoped his check helped me, he wished the best for me and my children, that things would get better with time–he knew there were good things in store for me. (I tell you, only in Utah are people like this! It’s amazing to me that I’ve had more than one encounter with businessmen who offer encouragement and kind words in the course of their business transactions!) He was such a handsome, kind, soft-spoken, older gentleman with sparkling eyes I couldn’t help but believe him. His kindness, compassion, empathy and my hope that he was right touched me and made me cry…all the way to my car.

And then the weirdest thing happened. As I got to my car, there sat a giant white dog that looked eerily similar to our dog Joe, our Yellow Lab who passed away last summer, barking and wagging his tail. Joe had such a deep, distinctive “Woof,” I could not believe a dog that looked, but especially sounded so much like Joe, was standing in a parking lot in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City, UT, at a time I was struggling and needed some cheering! Although for an instant it added to the brief wallowing I couldn’t help but let myself indulge in for a few moments, and made me miss my dog on top of missing my violin, my parents, my past and for a moment, every other thing I had lost, it actually cheered me up– the strangeness of things in my unexpected life!

“Expect the best. Prepare for the worst. Capitalize on what comes.”  (Zig Ziglar)

Thanks to my unexpected life, I’m doing that.

New Year’s Eve 2009

Date: July 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Earlier this month marked the one year anniversary of the day my new and unexpected single life officially, legally, began.

It has been quite a year!

All of the fireworks this month reminded me of the last fireworks I experienced–New Year’s Eve 2009. My first New Year’s Eve as a single woman.

I spent it with one of the bachelor’s I’ve already written about. And as optimistic as I like to think I am, I probably felt a little pessimistic that night too. “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” (Bill Vaughan) That was me that night.

“Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.” (Brooks Atkinson) That was exactly how I felt. That was exactly what I did.

My New Year’s Eve involved dinner, dancing…and fireworks. And as far as “firsts” go, it wasn’t too bad.

But at midnight, as the fireworks exploded and I stood watching them light up the Salt Lake City skyline, I felt something unexpected.

Each time a firework exploded into a colorful shower of sparks and light, I felt the “thunder” of it in my chest and saw a moment from 2009 flash before my eyes: I was sitting with Shawn Merriman at the table as he told me of his crimes, pending prison sentence, that I was left alone and with nothing to raise our four children and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was watching my children’s world shatter, seeing their shocked expressions, tears and grief, wondering how I would survive the moment I was present as my children’s hearts were broken and their childhood illusions were shattered and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was driving away from my entire life, the only life I’d ever known as an adult into a completely unknown life in Utah, wondering how my heart would ever heal and then, BOOM! That moment was gone.

The flashbacks continued for several minutes. Each explosion of light blasted away a hard experience from 2009; a piece of pain from the previous year. Pain I didn’t even know was mine, I’d become so accustomed to living with it.

Burdens I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying were lifted. I was stunned at how good it felt to see, hear and feel it all going away. It was healing.

So aside from the marriage proposal I got earlier that day (#2, if anyone’s counting!) that is what I remember most about New Year’s 2009. The fireworks. What they represented and how they felt to me.

Life was getting better every day and I knew that someday, every day would be a celebration again. That my children and I would continue on the path to happiness and joy in our new and unexpected life.

Just as the old moments had passed with each firework that exploded, new moments and memories were taking their place: my three-year-old taking off on his bike sans training wheels down our new Utah street, the family dance party my middle son was standing on a bench busting his best disco-karate moves and the bench shattered beneath him (he was ok, but we all got a huge laugh out of the whole adventure–and the first time I’ve ever lost a piece of furniture to a child’s antics), our first Christmas as a new family unit, our “group hugs,” the family drives, evenings in the canyon, and even our first family vacation.

“Everything is created from moment to moment, always new. Like fireworks, this universe is a celebration and you are the spectator contemplating the eternal Fourth of July of your absolute splendor.” (Francis Lucille)

You just have to keep living.