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the corner of my lens.

May 4, 2011

This morning I woke up a little more melancholy than yesterday.  Perhaps it was because I, yet again, woke up 15 minutes before I generally leave for work.  Leaving myself no time to brush or straighten my hair.  No time for makeup.  No time for ironing.  No time to kiss my baby.  Only time to stand in the closet, touch every single piece of clothing, sob in memorial of the pre-baby body I miss so dearly, and then quickly get myself out the door and into my desk chair.  That shouldn’t leave me much time to dwell.  But if you know anything about anything concerning a woman, it’s that if we leave time for nothing else, we will always find time to dwell.

 So let me just cut to the chase. 

 This week, Chris and I made the seemingly irresponsible decision to not renew our current lease and attempt to move into the city in which we have been called to serve.  Chris works for a church in St. Charles and we have both felt for a long time that we should be living in the same zip code in which he serves.  But the financial hurdle of moving right now, for me, is a little overwhelming.  Chris, of course, is excited and anticipating with joy of what is just around the corner.  I’d rather take a Tylenol PM and wake up in 90 days to find us back in a big fluffy blanket of security.  But the reality is that the proverbial big fluffy blanket may not be there to greet us at the end of this lease. 

 In fact, the possibility that we may find ourselves without a place to live at the end of these 90 days is high.  We may very well find ourselves living in the basement of a family member.  And as appreciated as that basement will be….for now it does nothing for my appetite.  It keeps me up at night.  It contradicts my personality.  And it makes me speculate about what situation is waiting for us that requires my pride to be shaken so hard. 

I like having my own front door and toaster and internet router.  I like security.  Nay.  I love security.  To an unhealthy degree.  But as I’ve learned over the years, nearly every time we are called to something, it generally requires a level of insecurity and humbleness that can leave us paralyzed with fear. 

And even as I write this, peering through my glasses, I can see 5 tiny little finger prints in the corner my lens.  He has a way of always putting my priorities back in their rightful place. 

Because now all I want to do is start this morning over again.  Not spend so much time memorializing my closet.  Spend more time praying.  For the next 90 days.  Or 90 years.  Maybe hold those little glass smudging fingers.  Maybe pack a few boxes or scour the internet for a place to live that fits within the confines of our small budget. 

What I want to stop doing is waking up every morning feeling like I have to carry the burden of figuring it all out.  Or feel the burden of what most people will see as failure.  Or even being concerned at what most people will see. 

Tomorrow I’m gonna try and wake up and feel peace in knowing that for the first time in maybe forever I’m truly following the leadership of my husband.  I’m doing something that makes no sense.  I’m heeding a call. 

And I’m making it look as difficult as it really is.

6 Comments leave one →
  1. Nicole Sneed permalink
    May 4, 2011 12:37 pm

    I’ve found that babies are amazing at putting things into perspective. No matter how much I’m stressing over being broke, too fat, tired, drama at work, not sure what to make for dinner, how I’m going to find the energy or time to clean up my disaster of a house, etc…all I have to do is hold my baby and all is right with the world. I realize that it will all work out. And if it doesn’t work out the way I want it to, oh well. Because it’s not nearly as important as me finding the time to love on my child. I know that it doesn’t help you with the dilemma of having a place to live in 90 days, but just try to remember what’s most important: no matter where you live, it will be home, as long as you have your husband and son to cling to. And as I’m so often told by my wise grandmother (no matter how hard it is to do)…GIVE IT TO GOD. Let him work out the details.

  2. May 4, 2011 2:49 pm

    i love you. freal.

    • May 5, 2011 10:36 pm

      i love you more freal. i’ll write a song about it. *fiddle dee dee*

  3. jamie permalink
    May 4, 2011 3:23 pm

    praying for you, love.

    • May 5, 2011 10:36 pm

      thank you very much my love. i miss you oh so much.

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