Uncomfortable in my Comfort Zone

I was very comfortable living in my little house. I loved the location, I loved the view from my backyard, I loved the memories that filled the small space. The house was getting a little (a lot) tight for my growing family, but I was determined to stay. I wanted to preserve the memories of the life we had together with Charles. I just adored that house, and all that we had created there as a family.

I did not want to leave.

I was even considering plans of adding on, so we could keep the foundation of memories, and add new ones. I really liked that idea. I cannot tell you the sway that house had over me, and how much I felt connected to it. I certainly did not want to move and lose all of the feelings that were associated with that special place.

And then, one day, things started to go wrong with the house. First the swamp cooler leaked and water flowed through the ceiling into the kitchen. It was a big deal, and it required repairs and the replacement of a new heating and air unit.

That was uncomfortable to be sure.

My home seemed a little less friendly to me. I started to feel something stirring in my heart, like maybe it was time for change. I was not convinced it was time to go, but I did feel unsettled.

And then the real thrust towards making me uncomfortable began.

It all started with one mouse.

No, I am not talking about Disneyland.

It was one mouse that found his way around the inside of our little house. He went everywhere. He made sure to leave his mark wherever he traveled. He was in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, in the living room, in the couch. There was not a place in the house the little vermin did not defile.

After finding the evidence of the fury intruder, I ran to the store and picked up a bunch of traps, and set them out everywhere I could. It took about a day, and the trap did the trick.

What a relief!

I scrubbed down the house, and purified it using cleaning supplies. I was so glad to get rid of the dirty, plague-carrying, beast.

But there is never just one mouse, is there?

Just a few days later, the kids thought they saw something speeding across the living floor. I thought they were just seeing things, and then I saw it too.

My relief turned into panic. There were more!

It was early in the  morning and I reset all the traps, and even went and grabbed a few more from the store. I loaded them up with peanut butter, as per the instructions.

The trap went off, the new mouse invader was caught.

But little did I know, that was just the beginning. I had many days of setting the bait, wounding my fingers, and ear-piercing mouse trap snaps ahead of me. Those things are dangerous!

It was as if the Pied Piper was calling all mice from around the world, to infest my home.

I cleaned everything. I moved the oven, the fridge, and any crumb was quickly sucked up in the vacuum. I did everything I could to get rid of the mice.

But they kept coming.

I went into the garage and found one of the problems. There was bird seed scattered all over the place. One of the children had spilled some on the floor, and it was clear the mice were having a feeding frenzy in the garage. All the seeds were cracked open, and they had moved them all over the place. We spent a Saturday cleaning out the garage and discarding a lot of items in the trash that had been destroyed by the mouse party. At one point, Sammi picked up a roll of Christmas wrapping, and out fell a mouse. Sammi made quite the noise. Eek!

We got rid of all food items, and anything else that might attract them.

In the house I set traps behind the oven, and that was where we caught almost all the mice.

I had finally had enough, and so I called our Bishop (a great friend of our family), and he came to try and find the problem. He is a handyman and has worked on our home before. He took my son Daniel into the crawl space, and they found that the duct work into the kitchen was totally loose, with a large gap, and so the mice were easily finding their way inside the kitchen vents. He repaired the problem. Besides a few mouse stragglers that I caught a few days after the repair, it did the trick.

I caught around 10 mice in my house, and more in the garage.

Yeah, it was totally gross.

My home felt like it was trying to tell me to get out.

There were other things that happened that increased my desire to leave. Let's just say I started feeling a great nudge... to do something.

One day, during the mouse fiasco, our new house came on the market, and I knew it was right. Maybe it was just because I was vulnerable, and I wanted a fresh start from the vermin so badly. But it was one of those things I had to just jump on, and make a choice quickly. With some choices I have time to drag my feet, and pray for a year or more about something or another; but sometimes I just have to know the answer now, and decide to decide. My friends and family can tell you I hesitated for about 2 minutes, but I went in full-gusto after that.

I jumped in with both feet, and it was the right thing to do. My little house, which I adored, sold in one week. Things worked out beautifully -- not flawlessly -- but miraculously. 

Even just the process of getting out of my comfort zone held a strange and exciting energy. I felt very driven, and lively, during the process.

I was given a blessing about a year ago, and in the blessing I was told that I would be moved out of my comfort zone. Of all the things I had been told in the blessing, that was the message that made me cry the most. I was worried about any new change, or shaking things up, or making my life different in anyway, because I felt safe.

I felt comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as I could feel, considering the circumstances.

But sometimes I do not realize how uncomfortable my comfortable really is.

It took making me really uncomfortable to get me to consider budging from my place of comfort. That is because I can be stubborn, and far too overly-analytical about every aspect of my life. It is not that I don't like change, I actually really love it. I thrive when things change. During times of change is when I feel most alive. But sometimes being comfortable can be so familiar, and in my case, I did not want to leave the memories and the love I had with Charles that we shared in our home; even though we were bursting at the seams.

The change has been a good one for our family. Many blessings have come from making the move. I am now grateful for the violent nudge out of my little house door.

Moving is just one of the areas where I have been, and will be, shoved out of my comfort zone. I have done a lot of things over the last few years that have been really uncomfortable for me, like picking out a casket for my husband, and speaking at his funeral.

There will be many more chances to break free of my comfort zones in the future, I have no doubt. (Don't get me started on the frightening prospect of dating.)

So, speaking of mice... this time I am talking about Disneyland. When we went to visit there last November, I felt a desire to seek out new things. We have been quite a few times, but I wanted to try new rides and things I had never done. We went to California Adventure and first thing in the morning we decided to get on the ride called Soaring over California. I was a little nervous about it, since I had never been. I did not want to get motion sick, and I am not a huge fan of heights.

I went in with my senses heightened at every new thing. When the ride started, we lifted off the ground with the sensation of flying, and I began to cry. It was not out of fear, but because I was totally amazed. It was phenomenal and I loved it. I was conquering a fear and it was exhilarating!

Right after flying, we headed to a rapid water ride. Again, not normally a favorite of mine. That is, until I got up the guts to get on. I loved it. I loved every minute. I was wondering if I was becoming a real thrill seeker; I just wanted more and more new experiences.

I discovered that great joy, and even fun, can be on the other side of leaving my comfort zone.

Sometimes I miss out when I am too comfortable to try new things.

I recently read somewhere of a girl who was struggling. She realized she was not looking for healing from her malady, she was looking for comfort. It stood out to me, because there is a difference between healing and comfort.

Healing can be hard, and it can involve hard work. If you have an injury, you can lay still and atrophy over time, or you can perform physical therapy to heal better, and stronger. One effort (doing nothing) is easier, but with unpleasant consequences. Sometimes the best things for us are the hard things, that require a bit of sweat and perseverance, and the guts to try.

When I think of seeking comfort on the other hand, I think of being still, and wrapped up in a warm blanket with some cookies and milk. It makes me think of seeking out comfort foods to suppress feelings, rather than healthy foods and exercise to help heal the mind and body. Of course it is not bad to seek out comfort from time to time -- we can and should seek out spiritual comfort at all times -- but we are not meant to live wrapped in a blanket, snarking cookies and milk all day. (I am talking to myself here.)

Healing from anything takes action and effort. Maybe after we put in some effort to heal or strengthen, then the comfort-seeking is more appropriate. We are not meant to be void of relaxation and comforting things, but that is not the main purpose of our existence. We are meant to grow, learn, and develop. That takes work. I am sure there is a healthy combination of both the hard work of real healing, and the quest for comfort.

I remember reading what Stephanie Nielson wrote about leaving the hospital, after being in the burn unit for so long. It was time for her to go, so she could start really healing after her accident. But she did not want to go home. She was safe, and more or less had become comfortable living at the hospital. She did go home, and she has continued to heal through hard work on her part. Can you imagine had she stayed at the hospital, and never gone home? What she has done with her life since then is beyond miraculous. She is a great example of always breaking out of comfort zones, and doing what it takes to heal and become better despite obstacles.

So what is my point? Do I even have one? That was all very random...

My point is, sometimes it takes stepping out of our comfort zone in order to heal, strengthen, improve, or even to find joy. I do not suggest jumping on a plane and going skydiving or anything crazy like that, and do not think you need to move from your house either! But there are things in life that we are afraid of doing, or changing, because it would burst our protective bubbles. Our fear can keep us uncomfortably comfortable, unless we break through our fear and try flying.

You simply never know what is possible until you try crushing your comfortable.