Nov 9, 2012 |
What a different a week makes.
Fridays are quickly becoming my favorite day of the week. This Friday, in particular, is one that I intend to treasure and enjoy.
Two weeks ago I bared my soul to God. One week ago I wrote about it. Today, I’m banking my first paycheck in a year and a half.
It’s small. My first three days’ worth of work. But it’s so much more than that.
It’s a purpose. A taxable contribution to society. A means to an end. I get to socialize, help people, crunch numbers, work with computers, and have a reason to get up in the mornings besides seeing Dot off into the world.
I bought a new dress. And knee boots. I realized, as I donned my new outfit Thursday morning, that I’ve not worn a skirt in three years.
In The Store
I’ve lost a little weight since summer. I wasn’t overweight to begin with, but the few pounds that have dropped have made wearing skirts and short hair more fun. And those boots?! Lemme tell ya, these boots were made for walkin’! [That’s right… I went there.]
I’m walking out of the dark, into the light. I’m walking toward self-sufficiency. I still have a long, rocky, and sometimes very narrow road in front of me. But I’m walking. With a smile on my face. And earned income in my wallet.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 2, 2012 |
Today, for the first time in so very long, I am breathing a bit better than I have. Today (Thursday), I received a call I’ve been waiting for: I start a new job on Monday. I went to the office today to sign documents and pick up the Office Manual to re-introduce myself to the work.
The work itself is insignificant for the purpose of this post. What is important, is that I am finding my footing somewhere between elation and anxiety. I’m not one to publicly display my fears any deeper than voicing a minor concern. And there are circumstances that prevent me from divulging certain aspects of what has been going on around here.
I lost my job on Monday, July 11, 2011. Since then, we (myself, Dot, and the rest of my family) have struggled with keeping the household running. Struggle is a good word, yet not good enough. There have been many times I felt strangled. Many times I felt the cosmos was playing dice with my life. I am thankful this last season did not include any health ailments or accidents, as I’m prone to collect those like baseball cards every few years.
It’s not been easy. And unless you truly are in the midst of poverty, you can’t understand what it’s like. There are many jobs I can’t do. Not won’t do. Can’t do. Through no fault of my own, I’ve been in ten car accidents in 25 years. These have left me with consistent left hip, back and neck muscle/tendon issues. On a good day, I can walk. I can’t ever run. And on a bad day, I can barely get out of bed. Applying for a part-time cashier or retail position has never been an option for me.
There’s a common perception with employers that if you’ve been unemployed for any length of time, it must mean your unemploy-able. For over a year, I’ve been able to land many interviews. I just haven’t landed the jobs.
This last month was the hardest. I found myself trying to make such decisions as what to sell and when to sell it. Whether or not I should move, and if so, where? Michigan keeps calling me back. But so does Minnesota. I’ve always wanted to live in New York. Or just down the street.
There’s only so many ways a person can cook white rice without getting tired of it. There’s only so many times I can rake the leaves off the dirt yard to stay busy. There’s only so much pain a person can take.
Last Friday I couldn’t even get out of bed. I rolled over after Dot said goodbye on her way to college. When I knew the house was empty and no one could hear me but God and the cats, I screamed. I screamed loud and long and then I screamed some more. I thought it might help, but it didn’t. So I sobbed.
I’ve been exhausted for months, hiding behind this facade of a happy person fully trusting in God to take care of us.There’s a difference between being taken care of and barely getting by. I thought perhaps I’d reached the end of what I could take. And I sobbed even more.
I can’t fix the noisy toilets without help. I can’t pay for help. If something happens to the car, we can’t afford to fix it. I have to choose between cat litter and a gallon of milk. It will take more than a few months to repair my credit. I’ve made my payments, but not always on time. And as soon as I get fully current on my bills, something has happened to upset that apple cart. Sometimes it was just life getting in the way. Sometimes it was bureaucracy.
I can’t explain the agony that comes with poverty. How painful it is to choose between driving to a friend’s house or saving the gas for church. Some friends stopped calling. But others have blessedly been a great source of comfort and dialogue. It’s not fun having to refuse invitations to go out because I can’t afford it; but neither is always being the Charity Project of the week.
I’ve been labeled. That’s the worst. There are people I know/knew, who have labeled me as Unemployed. Emotional. Needy. Without truly finding the depths of me, they have labeled me with names that scream Poverty. Poor. and Problematic. I’ve been unable to reach out to those I once trusted, because they see me now as only a financial burden or emotional wreck.
I have lost the ability to be ME.
I’ve done my best to keep these influences away from Dot. Of course she understands we’re in dire straits. She’s well aware that there’s not as much food in the pantry as there used to be. But she’s in college. She’s driving herself around town. Her happy life is just beginning, and I won’t let this negative season weigh her down any more than it absolutely has to.
And I feel guilty. Oh-so-guilty. Because I’m alive. And my friend’s brother isn’t. Because I’m healthy, and a girl just had life-changing surgery. Because I still have a roof over my head, gas in the car, a very smart, dedicated, healthy, Godly daughter, a wonderful relationship with my family and many friends. And I’m tired of eating rice.
Last Friday, I sobbed and screamed for hours, until I exhausted myself enough to just be quiet. I was too tired to even sleep.
And here it is, six days later, and I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.
I woke up this morning not knowing what the day, week, or month would bring. Not knowing if the child support would be paid. Not knowing how these bills will be taken care of. And something happened.
I had no more money in my account than I did yesterday. The bills still aren’t paid. But I was breathing. I was awake. Healthy. Sheltered.
And today I understand the meaning of Daily Bread.
God doesn’t care that my bills aren’t paid. He cares about me.
It doesn’t matter that it’s rice we’re eating. Because we’re eating. It doesn’t matter that the child support stopped. Because we’re gonna be self sufficient.
It doesn’t matter why I haven’t worked for so long. Because I finally have a job.
I’m so afraid it won’t last. I’m so concerned the economy will continue to fall or even stagnate and I will once again find myself back here.
What matters is that we’re still breathing. And we’re still together. I didn’t have to choose between my daughter in California or a job in the Midwest. I’ll be back on my feet in a month or so. And I’ll be okay.
For all I’ve gone through; for a better understanding of those who truly struggle with poverty; and for the blessing of a new job,
THANK GOD IT’S FRIDAY.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
This post has been linked up with Shell at Things I Can’t Say for POUR YOUR HEART OUT
Jun 6, 2012
June is my Exodus. I’m making it so. Months ago during prayer, I felt God telling me to hold on until June. Things will get better in June.
The last year, the last month have been the proverbial one thing after another and now that it’s June, it’s time to put on a new hat and a new attitude… and get outta Dodge!
Change doesn’t have to be dramatic or traumatic. It can come simply by looking in a different direction. Seeing the shadows dance on the wall instead of hiding in the corner. Watching the leaves blow in the breeze instead of counting the ones already fallen to the ground. Making pies out of mud and reclaiming that childhood wonderment when the world wasn’t any larger than the backyard.
But even with change, some things stay the same. Like the love I have for my family. And the love we have from our Head of Household. Even in these very difficult times, God has been with us, loving us, caring for us, comforting us.
And He will continue to Lead us.
EXODUS
[originally written June 14, 1999]
Stay where you are, here with me
Leave the dirt behind
Don’t you know who I am?
I am the God of your Fathers,
I am the God of You.
I know your troubles, I’ve seen your pain
But your destiny is greater
I am bringing you to a better place
Just put your trust in me
I’ve been with you so far, so far
Will I not stay until the end?
I am the God of your Future
I am the God of You.
I am the Wonderful Everything
I send my angels before
Leave behind what is behind
Look on to me ahead
Don’t you know who you are?
I have chosen you, My people
Let me be the God of you.
I want to be the God of you.
I am the God of you.
You may also be interested in reading Filigree Frosting.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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Apr 26, 2012 |
I’m not one to publicly complain or let others in on my troubles. I figure the world has enough problems, big and small, and my job is to make the world a better place… even if that means just keeping my mouth shut.
But a few times, I’ve seen this linky badge on Jenn’s blog and I’ve read what other people have to contribute. I admit, I admire having a Sanctuary of Sorts where fellow bloggers can go and expose their real self as opposed to the sometimes somewhat reserved public persona we display in our writings.
Granted, our blogs are mostly authentic. We wouldn’t be successful if they weren’t. But there’s still a part of me, a very private part of me, that I rarely let out.
But it’s been one of those weeks where I’ve avoided my Friends. We all have them: those people who can look us in the eye and we absolutely can’t ignore or lie to when they ask, “How are you doing?”
That’s not the Joey Tribbiani smooth chant, “How you doin’?”
I’m talking about the get-real, get-deep, and get-honest, “How are you doing?”
There’s only so many times I can hide, or recount my woes, without feeling sorry for myself.
And that’s not what I’m trying to do here. I’m not striving for attention. I’m also not trying to put on a brave face and act like everything’s ok. I’m not broken or shaken to my core. I’m just somewhere in between.
That’s it! That’s exactly where I am:
I’m in limbo.
And it sucks.
I know God loves me intimately. He has taken care of my family in ways I can’t even explain. He is faithful in keeping all the promises He has made to and for me.
And I feel really selfish and guilty for putting this out there… but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.
Sometimes, I want more. Sometimes, I get jealous. And angry. And upset. And I cry. I cry a lot. I wish I wasn’t a crier, but I am. And that, too, sucks. Because it’s utterly embarrassing to be in the store and walk away from something with tears and a tight throat because I have to decide between an extra gallon of milk or a bag of popcorn kernels.
People I know have jobs, have relationships, have dates, have money to do things. Is it too much to ask for some jaw-dropping, never-thought-it-could-happen-to-me joy? What’s wrong with me, that everyone else is getting what I want?! Okay, not everyone-everyone. Just… everyone. At least the majority. Maybe three out of five.
Is it really all that wrong to want to be noticed and appreciated? To be able to do for my family what other Heads of Households get to do for theirs? Is there any time, any time, in the near or even distant future when I can actually have a savings account worth anything?
I’m so tired of planning out every drive around places we have to go; and how to get the most mileage around town. I can’t see you today, because visiting a friend just isn’t on my route. It stinks!
I’m a writer. It’s what I do. But writing doesn’t pay the bills… yet. And I can’t find a day job that will. I’m great in interviews. But the job offers themselves just aren’t around. Because I’m unemployed, people take that to mean I’m unemployable. How is the economy at large, the lack of business income, my fault?! How is the fact that my previous employer didn’t know how to manage the business and balance the books and sign new contracts my fault?!
And why can’t I write for a living?! Why does being a successful, marketable writer mean having a publisher, which you can’t get unless you have an agent, which you can’t get unless you’re marketable, which you can’t be unless you’re already being marketed, which you can’t be unless someone takes a chance, which they won’t because you haven’t proven yourself, which you can’t do because…
Why can’t I catch a break?!
I’m tired of waiting for the rest of the world to know what I’ve already learned! That life is worth taking chances. That life is good. That fundamentally, we’re all going to be okay, even if right now we don’t know what the definition of “okay” is!
And then, of course, I vent and get embarrassed that I even felt this way to begin with. Because ultimately, I am okay. I will continue to be okay.
But now and then, I wonder if God has forgotten about me because I’m not the squeaky wheel. If I throw a tantrum, will He notice and take care of me? If I cry harder, will He comfort me? Why are prayers being answered for other people and not me?
I asked Him that the other day. To which He replied, “You never really asked.” Ouch. Ouch. Ouch! But He’s right. I talk about God an awful lot, and sometimes to Him, but I’ve lost the ability to talk with Him.
I’m a failure. I don’t deserve the things I want. I mean, really. How much effort am I putting into achieving my goals? I thought I was trying, even striving. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.
Maybe I’m just a failure.
But, no. That can’t be it. Because I’ve accomplished some pretty neat things lately like writing, publishing, and selling a Cookbook. I make ends meet each month. Barely, but they do meet.
Gah. I’ve even failed at being a failure.
Oh, God!
So this is me. Confessing that I am guilty of using God as a safety net. Of throwing emotional tantrums like I’m four instead of 44. I tell Him what’s wrong with my life, but I don’t give Him the chance to help me fix anything. I talk to Him, muttering, but lately haven’t gone to Him in prayer. Not real, deep, involved, here’s-what’s-happening prayer. I’ve successfully ignored Him and blamed His absence on everything but my own pushing Him away.
I never thought I would be one of those people! And He means so much more to me than that. I know I mean so much more to Him!
And now I’m really embarrassed. And ashamed.
Oh, GOD!
Never mind, God. I know you’re still in control. Still here with your arms around me. Still here, taking care of me and family in ways I’m not even aware of.
You haven’t forgotten me.
And I’m so sorry I forgot about you. Even just for a little while.
Forgive me, Lord.
Forgive me.
“For I know the plans I have for you,”
declares the Lord.
“Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you.
Plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11, NIV.
I’m gonna be okay, God. I’m gonna be okay, because you’re God, and I’m not. And even if I don’t know what Your definition of “okay” is, I still know I will be. Because You are God.
And I am not.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Mar 8, 2012
I went job hunting last Thursday and Friday. Usually I only manage to go out once a week, if at that, but I always check online everywhere: Craigslist, classified ads/Monster, county, court, company website… that list goes on and on.
I was taken aback last week when I found not one, not two, but three advertised job openings. Around here, nobody advertises because there’s so many people looking for work that their office would get inundated. Our unemployment level is one of the highest in the nation. So seeing three jobs advertised for applications, that says a lot. That tells me that the economy is getting better. That people aren’t afraid of putting money into ads or time into interviews.
The really exciting turn of events came when I applied for an office position at one of the local hospitals. Turns out I’m qualified for three, possibly four, positions that are currently open! How exciting is that?! And when I asked for other leads, they referred me to the employment service they sometimes use.
So I went to the staffing agency and dropped a resume there as well. Guess what: they loved my resume and will contact me this coming week. Looks like they might have an opportunity or two for me.
That makes me happy. I rediscovered that I actually having a day-work routine. I like getting up, in the shower, and dressed up before I drive Dot to school, instead of just tumbling into jeans and a sweatshirt. I like wearing nice clothes and meeting people and just getting out.
Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty at home to keep me busy. But I also have distractions. I’m looking forward to a paycheck while waiting for New Inklings Press to start paying off.
In the meantime, I’m still doing menu planning which is really turning into a fun thing. I’m working on freelance projects as well as the next book for my company. I’m taking care of those once-a-year cleaning matters. And I love having extra time with Dot.
I know there’s been a reason for me to be unemployed this long; and I really believe it was so I could get all my ducks in a row with regards to my writing career: what to write, how to write, how to schedule, set up my tiny office-in-a-box, and start my company.
But now that those are done, I’ve no doubt that God will now provide the income we so desperately need. And how amazing is it that after eight months of no offers whatsoever, there are six or more opportunities in the last three days. That says it all.
In the words of my favorite Pastor, “It’s time to work.” And I wholeheartedly agree.
Colossians 3:23, 24 [NIV] “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
