Sayonara, Scoutmaster

I'm no longer Scoutmaster in the Ammon 11th Ward.

This was the first time in my life I said no to being released from a calling. I think I said it twice. Nevertheless, the bishop said my time was up and that it was time to go.

Go where I don't yet know (writing this the day of for publication a week later, because reasons). Don't yet have a new calling.

I've done my last Scout camp. My last Klondike derby. No more winter camping, unless I choose to go. I don't have to worry about trying to squeeze a campout in December. That's going to be somebody else's job now. I don't know who.

I do know the bishop said I could hold my head high, as God had magnified the calling through me. I'm not quite certain I know exactly what that means, but I get the feeling it means something akin to "Good job." That's a good feeling.

I felt inspired over Conference Weekend a few weeks ago to get my Scout records in order. I guess I know why now -- the boys won't have to repeat anything they've earned, even for the partial merit badges they've earned. Leadership is up to date. The only thing I don't have recorded is who has gone on what campouts for the Camping merit badge. Guess I'd better get that done.

But it's okay. The calendar is roughed out through the end of the year.

But I feel torn. I won't get to see this group of boys at Scout camp again, unless I go with my son.

My son. I feel bad leaving the troop when he's got just under a year to go in it. But it does tell me we need to find him an Eagle project so he can get it done. Maybe that's what I can concentrate on now to ease me out of the shock of being released.