That has had to change. Now, if I am going to be completely honest here I have to admit that it did not change because I chose to change it. No, God - in His infiite wisdom (that I can't completely see yet) - decided that the time had come for me to open my eyes to what was going on. He offered me a job that looked like it would pay a lot of money and I took it. Then He let the bottom drop out from under me, at least, that's what it felt like. I had to build a client base. I had to build up my time. I am still not working full-time. And because of a few months of paychecks that couldn't even cover my rent, I am indebted to people for more money than I can even imagine.
I've been discouraged. I've been tired. I've been selfish. I've been angry and bitter. I've been stressed and anxious. I've cried so much lately that I won't even watch a remotely touching movie, because I'm flat out tired of crying, even good tears.
But in the past few weeks I have been able to get a glimmer of hope. My dad sent me a couple of texts that I have saved onto my phone, and I look at them when I am discouraged. Don't let money rule your life. And, the one that brings tears to my eyes every time, I am NEVER disappointed in you or any of my children. I know what a gift you are from God, and I appreciate every one of you. Or there is the birthday card my mom wrote to me: Don't give up before the miracle happens. Simple, really, but somehow more encouraging than the best pep-talk.
And in this time of stress and discouragement, uncertainty and questioing of whether the bills will be paid or my loans will default, I have been able to go through an amazing change. I am starting to appreciate the beautiful things in life again. I am starting to forget that my bank account looks pretty grim. I can jump up and down about a free coffee drink from Starbucks and really feel that excited. I can get a hug from a high schooler and feel uplifted for the rest of the day. I can give thanks at the end of the day for what I accomplished that day, because I am learning to see what it is I truly do.
I work with special needs kids during the day, and one evening a week (so far) I tutor children who may not have specific special needs, but need a lot of extra help. I sit on the floor all day. I let mothers cry about what it feels like to not know what having a "normal child" is like. For some of them I am the only person outside of their family they see all week. For some of them I am their only friend. I teach two-year-olds that it is not okay to throw blocks across the room. I teach them that hurting their parents is not acceptable. I teach them that even though they are struggling to place one block on top of another they are wonderful children, worthy of love. I listen to sixth graders struggle through books that my second-grade sister is reading in class. I help them understand that "I've" has the exact same meaning as "I have." I sit with them and listen to their stories of being bullied because they can't read in class. And I let them know that I love them and want them to succeed.
I'm not perfect. I come home at the end of the day and am exhausted. My back hurts, whether from sitting on the floor all day or bearing some of the burdens of the families I work with or a combination of both I don't know. I can be crabby with my sister, when all she does is say "hi." Sometimes I just want to sit and be by myself. But I am learning that through it all I am being molded into the person that God wants me to be.
You see, growing pains always hurt. And I am going through some pretty intense growing pains.
I hope at the end of it I have actually grown. I hope I am that version of me that God intends for me to be. My prayer lately has been that I will learn the lessons set before me, so I don't have to go through this again...Maybe it's not the perfect prayer, but I think it's a start. I hope so at least.
And so, on this day of Thanksgiving, I am going to offer a prayer written by someone much more amazing than I could hope to be. Fr. Gregory Petrov was a priest in a Slavic prison camp - where he ultimately died - and even in those horrific conditions was able to write a beautiful service of thanksgiving to God. Last night at church, when we celebrated the service, I was struck by this song:
That which is broken cannot be restored, but Thou canst set aright those whose conscience has become decayed; Thou restorest the soul to its former beauty in those who have lost it beyond all hope. With Thee there is nothing that cannot be put aright. Thou art all love. Thou art the Creator and the Restorer. To Thee we sing praise: Alleluia!
To God be the glory, now and forever - in good times, and in bad.
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| Job 1:21 |
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