December 13, 2025
Yesterday morning, I awoke before the sun, eyes still bleary from sleep, trying unsuccessfully to push the events of the night before from my mind. I wasn’t myself then – the stress and uncertainty that had been building for months finally made its way to the surface, resulting in a scene I did not want to relive. But trying not to think about it had the same effect as actually thinking about it, and the tears quickly sprang to my groggy eyes once more.
I was hoping sleep would take away the sting, but it did not. Normally stoic and composed, this emotional display, starting the night of December 11 and continuing into the morning hours of December 12, was unlike me. My husband, Greg, was nearly speechless as he watched it unfold, and he is rarely speechless.
It all sounds so dramatic. Perhaps the drama is isolated to that introduction, but I will let you decide. With that, let us now return to the beginning and attempt to sort through the details leading up to Lynnette’s great breakdown of the year 2025.
It all started over a year ago, in August of 2024. I was alone in my car one morning after dropping Carson off at school. As I drove and prayed, a common practice for me, a clear thought came out of nowhere and penetrated every inch of my mind: “Don’t hold on too tightly.”
I knew it came from God because I don’t talk to myself like that, but it didn’t seem to align with anything happening in my life at the time. Instead, it felt foreboding, and my initial reaction was fear. Was I going to lose somebody or something that deeply mattered to me? Was my health or my family in jeopardy?
In the weeks and months that followed, I tried to make sense of what felt like a divine warning, but none of my explanations seemed to fit, and the Lord offered no further clarification. So, for a year, the phrase, “Don’t hold on too tightly,” was the background music of my life.
Until everything changed.
In July of this year, Greg and I were on our way to celebrate our 28th wedding anniversary in Sedona when he received unexpected news that his employer would not renew his contract after it expired in August of 2026.
He had been working at this pediatric dental practice for nearly 18 years. He originally purchased it at the height of the Great Recession of 2008, built it in an uncertain economy, and came to love the community and the children he served.
But running the business was stressful. We navigated a recession, the 2020 shutdowns, and many other ups and downs that come with owning a business. But when he was called to serve as a bishop in 2022, another busy and sometimes stressful position, his health began to suffer beneath the weight of a thousand stressors. He sold the practice and signed a four-year contract to work for the new owner, anticipating he would stay much longer than four years.
But that was not meant to be – an unexpected turn in the story of our lives that revealed itself on our 28th anniversary and felt (still feels…) entirely unfair.
Amid the growing uncertainty, the Lord’s words from the previous year rang loudly in my ears: “Don’t hold on too tightly.” It finally made sense.
As we have wrestled with the Lord over our rapidly changing reality, it has become clear that His plans differ from ours. Even initially, it did not feel like a coincidence that the job would be ending at the same time our youngest went to college and within months of my husband’s expected release as the bishop of our ward. It felt like the Lord was tying a bow on our time here in Arizona, leading us away from the beautiful life we have built here and into the uncertainty of a place we never anticipated.
But, somehow, even amid our sadness at the thought of leaving, it felt right.
So, with faith and a little trepidation, my husband posted his resume on the American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry job board. Within days, job recruiters were begging us to come see their practices from Rhode Island to Texas and everywhere in between. But, in a roundabout way that had the Lord’s fingerprints all over it, we found what appeared to be the perfect job in Kansas City. We could not explain the magnetic draw we both felt to that area, but it was unrelenting.
For a time, miracles happened almost daily, each pointing us to Kansas City. It wasn’t long before we knew with certainty that was where the Lord needed us to go. We were so sure that we bought a house in early November, even though we had no idea when we would actually be moving there. But somehow it still felt right, even though it made zero logical sense.
The Lord, I have learned, does not always follow lines of mortal logic.
Meanwhile, seemingly promising candidates for his Arizona position fell through, leaving us with no viable prospects and a contract that went through next August. But the Kansas City job, which we were now certain would be a good fit, was down a provider and needed him ASAP.
With no idea how or when things would work out, we decided to act as if everything would fall into place so he could start working in KC in early 2026. With a new home in our portfolio, we packed a U-Haul of essentials (and food storage…and patio furniture) and drove it to Missouri. It felt crazy and stressful, with more than a few “WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE WE DOING?!?” moments.
Then, Greg’s current employer agreed to allow him to work for them Monday through Wednesday each week, and in Kansas City on each Thursday and Friday, beginning in January. That still feels like a miracle, and we happily accepted that step in the right direction, knowing the weekly travel will get wearisome in a hurry.
But there are still no viable prospects for his replacement. We could be here in Arizona until August. Or maybe sometime in the spring or early summer. It is 100% uncertain and 100% out of our hands, which leads us back to Lynnette’s great breakdown of 2025.
Facts you must understand to appreciate the gravity of said breakdown:
1. Uncertainty is my nemesis. If I can wrap my head around what to expect, I can adapt to almost anything. If things are completely up in the air and out of my hands, I get stuck in a loop of overthinking that makes it hard to move forward.
2. My son and daughter-in-law just moved their family, along with our only two grandbabies, from Utah to a city just two hours away from us. The 3-year-old asks to go to Nana and Papa’s house every single day with the dramatics only a toddler can muster. He won’t understand when we move to Missouri.
3. My last baby is graduating from high school in May and leaving home, which is proving to be a lot to process all on its own. (I’m not crying; you’re crying.)
4. As an introvert, starting the empty nest chapter in a new city where I will be building a community from scratch with no kids to connect me to other families feels more daunting than I would like to admit.
5. Also, what will I do with myself when I have no kids to touch base with at home through the day? I have no idea.
6. If we might need a place to stay in Arizona until August – but maybe only until May – when do we list our house? And when do we plan to move? (Two mortgage payments are not ideal, so there’s that.)
7. At the end of the day, I don’t really want to move. (This is the bottom line.)
And now we return to the great breakdown of 2025.
The catalyst was a discussion about a cruise, a story all its own that I will not tell in its entirety at this time. I will only say that, as a 50th-birthday gift for my ever-patient husband of 28 years, I finally agreed to go on a cruise, even though I have never wanted to go. This agreement is the ultimate expression of love, and he could not be more thrilled.
We were looking at cruises, discussing dates and how we could work around everyone’s schedules so the whole family could join us. It should have been exciting, but I could feel my stress level rising.
How can we make plans for a summer cruise when we don’t even know when we will be moving?
Would Greg be able to take time off from both jobs for the move and the cruise, possibly in the same month?
And, come to think of it, when are we even going to sell our house? And what do we need to do over Christmas break to get it ready, since Greg will be spread very thin after that?
And then, I started mentally rehearsing all the facts I just shared with you. Listing all the worries and emotions that had been compounding for months left me feeling overwhelmed, and tears began to leak from my eyes. Stoic no more, sobs soon racked my body, leaving Greg, who could probably count on one hand the number of times he has seen me in a similar state, unsure of what to say or do. His wife had lost her marbles.
Between sobs, I spilled my worries at his feet in a messy heap, holding back nothing. His response in short was this: “I didn’t realize this has been so hard on you, but how could it not be?”
After my tears dried and I was quite thoroughly exhausted, I suggested we sleep before trying to sort out anything. Because, really, what could we do when so many big decisions hinge on things we cannot control?
So, we slept, bringing us back to the beginning of this entry.
In the morning, I tried to wash the memory down the shower drain – a fruitless endeavor. Meanwhile, Greg knocked on the bathroom door. “I made us an appointment for the 9:00 am endowment session.”
At that moment, I wanted to go to the temple only slightly more than I wanted a root canal. My emotions were still too tangled and raw. But how could I refuse the temple?
So we went.
On my way to the dressing room, I tried to smile at the workers, a gesture, I am certain, was not at all believable. And, soon enough, I was sitting in the session – weary, restless, and not expecting any grand revelations given my state of mind.
But by the end, a measure of peace crept its way into my uneasy heart. It will all work out. (Eventually…)
Then, upon arriving home, I asked my husband for a priesthood blessing, and I hold those words in my heart. But within minutes, a measure of peace grew into what felt like an overflowing cup.
Yes, it will all work out because the Lord is leading the charge. I just need to be willing to follow Him through the darkness of uncertainty until I arrive at the version of Zion He has for me.
It won’t be easy, but when has that ever been the Lord’s priority? I cannot think of a single instance, scriptural or otherwise, when comfort has been the Lord’s goal. He seems to care very little about ease and a whole lot about teaching us to trust Him enough to follow Him, especially when the road is steep and rocky.
Do I trust Him enough to walk beside Him along the jagged, vertical path that inevitably leads through Calvary before moving on to eternal glory? Do I believe He has a clear vision of the road ahead and why He needs me to embrace certain unexpected turns?
Do I truly believe He knows what is best for me?
The answer is yes! I believe.
Sometimes (many times) that belief is imperfect. I get stuck in my head, where there are more questions than answers. I get swept away in the frustration, uncertainty, and seeming unfairness of it all. I lose my footing, stumble, and end up temporarily losing my marbles like I did in the great breakdown of 2025.
But, with the Lord’s patience and help, I have successfully gathered most of my marbles and put them securely back into their bag. (There will always be a few that get away. One cannot expect perfection.)
In doing so, I have recommitted to fully trusting the Lord and leaving my life and every unanswered question in His capable hands. I will surrender my will to His, reminding myself as often as necessary that His ways are always higher than my ways, which means they will lead to breathtaking vistas that will forever change the way I see.
I’ve got this because He’s got me.
Please remind me of this if I happen to misplace my marbles again. The likelihood of a relapse is not entirely out of the question, so don’t hesitate to call me out if needed. That is what friends are for.
**Read the rest of this series here
