For the last twenty-one months I have been hustling –writing early in the morning, at lunch, during baby’s nap and at all sorts of odd times. I have been jotting down notes in the car, at church, on scraps of paper and sometimes even tapping away on my iPhone to pen some fabulous tale of awesome I might otherwise forget.
And it’s all been for this day.
Today, I am officially a full-time freelance writer.
I wrote a while back about a big decision we were praying over and how Tim asked for fleece from God and God provided the fleece by miraculously placing a white van on the freeway with a “Got Fleece?” license plate right in front of my car.
God is so stinking creative!
Well, this was the big decision –to go all-out for my dream or stick with the safe and secure route. In all honesty, moving from a full-time steady pay-check to a life of an eccentric beret wearing writer/artist just scraping by didn’t sound too appealing to my husband.
But God provided the fleece.
I secured a couple of steady writing gigs and negotiated a deal to do a little contract work for my tech job.
We won’t starve, although I still may wear the beret and start mumbling in French, and read all of the works by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Hemingway and maybe 50 Shades of Gray (if they offer a PG version).
I am pinching myself this morning and blown away by the grace of God and his mercy.
Sometimes our dreams do come true with plenty of hard work and spit and gumption.
And a loving God who provides the fleece and doors of opportunity no man can shut.
What is your dream job? What can you do today to move towards a career that resonates in your spirit and makes you feel alive?
The other night I spoke to a group of gals at Birthchoice –a nonprofit supporting the parents of unplanned pregnancy. It was the usual crew of girls albeit a few new faces.
The topic was pregnancy and exercise and the level of interest was slim to none. I know not every talk I give will raise the roof, but is a small rumble too much to ask for?
One of the new ladies was either mentally disabled or had fried her neurons from excessive drug use. I was warned by the leader that she had been very disruptive the week before and interrupted the speaker constantly. I prayed for Holy Spirit intervention or at the very least, enough humor to keep it light.
Every few sentences I uttered, the woman chimed in. I found out it was her fourth pregnancy and she walked an hour a day and the names of her kids and a thousand other details all while I was supposed to be speaking.
I kept thinking of Henri Nouwen and the lessons Jesus was trying teach me about compassion and empathy but my frustration level subtly rose notch by notch with every interruption.
I asked the girls a few questions to figure out their lifestyle and discern their difficulties in finding balance between exercise and babies, work and education.
How many of you work? None
How many of you are in school? One
And then I realized how my stupid my questions were and I got pissy and a little defeated. One of the girls had been showing off her hair extensions earlier and when I looked up, she flipped her glorious locks over her shoulder.
I think it’s what set off my internal envy switch.
I am standing up speaking and what’s going through my mind is pure evil…This is so unfair! I want hair extensions for my scrawny tresses but they are too expensive and my kids need new shoes. Some days I want to stay at home and not work two jobs to pay the mortgage and all the sports fees and endless activities for my kids; so what gives you the right to be lazy and Welfared and sooooo relaxed while I have heart palpitations and still take more time out to volunteer and share with you how to exercise when you are going to laugh at me and eat Cheetos anyway and then just have another baby? (was that a run-on sentence or what?)
After an exhausting thirty minutes, I finished up and exited quickly. Normally, I hang out and talk with the girls but I needed to sort out my heart and emotions.
Jesus clearly needed to take the wheel back from Satan.
Here is what I discovered once I calmed down and dug into my crusty soul. Like everything in life, nothing is black and white. I admire these women for choosing life and not aborting. I love them as sisters in Christ and I can champion and promote their desire to overcome adversity and grow into responsible citizens and loving mothers.
But I cannot take on their burden if or when they choose to operate with entitled and lazy behavior, nor will I condone it.
I volunteer and give because God called me to encourage and love these women and it’s possible only a few will hear the message and respond. But even if it’s only one or two or even none, they are precious to God and to me. My agenda is love and to come alongside them -not to fix. And in all honesty, at my worst, I am no different. I too want to be coddled and cared for and take the easy road some days.
But at my best, when someone believed in me –even when I didn’t believe in myself, it allowed me to experience a sliver of hope and to dream of a different and courageous life.
A life where God can take a selfish and self-righteous girl –despite her complete and utter unworthiness, and allow her the grace to grow and minister to other women.
I’m in a wistful mood. Nostalgic. Teary. Reflective.
I lost a loved one today. It makes me want to hold onto my babies a little tighter, linger over beauty a bit longer, and enjoy the blessings I have been entrusted with.
A lovely tableau
Like antiqueing with my husband in Carlsbad on a surprise getaway.
Or snapping this shot of my friend Keri in her Halloween costume. (Seriously, she got this at Target and I am in awe. She looks like a regal princess)
Like finding just the right pumpkin.
Kyle's blowing out his birthday candles
And celebrating the best thirteen years of my life with my cherished boy.
Like stopping on the side of a busy road to smell the flowers and look at a bug.
Or watching a beautiful bride float down the aisle toward her beloved.
And then taking a picture with her so I can remember how much it moved me.
Like my first-baby girl turning into a young-woman, despite me wanting to keep her locked in a castle far away from all the ogres, and dragons and eager suitors.
And I’m not even ready to acknowledge how fast the baby is growing up. (Amazing block skills for a 1 yr old, right?)
And then there is romance.
Like my husband who still courts me, despite the busyness of life.
And my Father in heaven who pursues me with His relentless love.
I have Jesus on speed dial. When a monumental crisis is looming or I need directions for the roadmap of life, I just grab my iPhone and hit God. Generally he answers on the first ring, but sometimes I am put on hold due to turmoil in the Mideast or the occasional tsunami. Fortunately, I have a special ringtone, so he generally gets back to me within five minutes – max.
Yeah right! If only hearing God’s voice was that easy. Though we were initially designed for this type of connection, Adam and Eve, bless their sinful hearts, interrupted our ability to walk side by side in the Garden and hear God call out our name. So, until that glorious day, when we will meet him face to face, we are left with a deep desire within to know our Creator. While this yearning is enough to motivate us into action it is often wrapped in confusion. Does God speak to His people today like he used too in Biblical times? What does his voice sound like? Will I recognize it? And ultimately, how do we pursue something so incredibly elusive?
What we often forget in our eagerness for instant gratification and fast answers is that all relationships take time to develop intimacy. Our ability to discern God’s voice is directly related to the depth of our relationship and the journey we have experienced with our Father. Over time, as our spiritual journey matures, our recognition of the myriad ways God communicates will sharpen. And though we may not be able to hear an audible voice on speaker phone, we can learn to quiet our heart, open our eyes and hear God loud and clear.
When Samuel was a young boy, and God called him out of sleep to give him a message, he did not have the ability to recognize God’s voice and needed Eli’s assistance. But as he grew into a man and eventually into the judge that would lead Israel, he trained his ear to hear the Lord. The name Samuel means “listens to God.” It implies action. Samuel was intentional. He paused and…he actually listened! In a world of incessant noise this may be one of the greatest challenges we face as believers.
One of the ways God speaks is through circumstances. Doors open…doors close and opportunity knocks. Relationships develop, sparks fly, and something is created out of nothing. Miracles happen, rescues are made and battles are won. The first step is awareness in what the Spirit might be communicating through daily living
The other day, I had a great opportunity to hear God and it only took a jackhammer for him to get his message across. As a busy mother of three children, time alone is nonexistent, and so I was eager to chaperone my daughter’s cheer squad for a long practice at our church, because I knew I could go off and hide while the coach drilled the girls. I settled down in the nursery with my nine month old baby for a nice quiet afternoon, anticipating that the baby would entertain herself and I could pen about ten thousand words.
My first mistake was thinking the baby could be so easily duped by a few flashy toys and some tasty snacks, but I was determined to be productive. I managed to write a whole paragraph when my laptop suddenly died. Because it was plugged in to the charger, I was baffled. But, it refused to start and I was getting frustrated. Fearing a blue screen, I checked and rechecked, only to realize that I had brought the wrong charger. I have an HP and I was trying to connect it to my husband’s Dell power brick. OK God, I chuckled, you want me to go Old School and use a pen. In a posture of sincere adaptability, I sat on the floor with a journal and a pen, to calm the now fussy baby and continue on my literary quest for greatness.
One sentence in, the baby grabbed my pen and laughed. Every time I attempted to write she batted at the paper, the pen, my face…whatever she could get her little hands on. Then she started crying. In an act of surrender I put down the pen and asked God what he wanted me to hear. I grabbed the bottle and a blanket and reached for the baby. She snuggled close into my arms and I began to rock, rock and rock. Finally we found our rhythm. As the baby relaxed and fell asleep, I knew in my heart that I needed to lean into my Father’s arms the way the baby was resting in mine.
God was giving me a gift. I had hours alone with my sweet angel, without distractions, time to bond, sing worship songs, giggle and play peek-a-boo. Letting go of my agenda was the only way to experience his plan for me. Later on the day, she fell asleep again and I was able to write again…deeply humbled, blessed and cognizant of God’s love.
Ironically, it doesn’t take much for God to communicate a message. I heard him loud and clear through a power cord and a fussy baby. The challenge is to be aware, because God is always moving!
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