My calendar is pretty empty this week. One tutoring session last night, Bible study tomorrow, and a trip to see the grand baby on Friday. Not a lot for someone who used to have trouble finding time to meet a friend for coffee. I should be happy, right?
I am, kind of. But we always want what we don’t have. Last year when I was working long days, single-parenting, and pondering a move, I longed for days like these when I could still be in my pajamas at 10:30 in the morning. I dreamt of sipping tea and blogging with the dog at my feet. And, ok, I am not hating this moment — my toes are tucked under his warm belly; I can feel it rise and fall. But, guess what I did first thing this morning — applied for two more jobs.
I have lost track of how many jobs I have applied for. Did you know that I can see myself as an administrative assistant, a tutor, an academic advisor, a Bridge Program director, and an editor? When I tell my husband about the positions I am applying for, he is very gracious. He says things like, “You would love that position,” or, “I could see you doing that.” But then, a few minutes later, he says something like, “You know, I am completely content with you not working. You really need to pay attention to your health. I think full-time is too much.”
I’ve got a winner, don’t I? He sees that I really want to be able to do some of the things that have fed me over the years, and he also sees my limitations. Even when I don’t want to see them.
But, come on, maybe I really could still direct a program for provisionally admitted students at the University of Michigan. I won’t know unless I try. And maybe they won’t even call me anyway. And if they call, I can at least go in for an interview, right?
I say all this as I sit in pajamas and a hoodie — the hood pulled over my head, wearing glasses because my eyes hurt too much today for contacts. But maybe if I had to get up and go to work I would feel better, right?
That’s the unanswered question. So, I continue to ask it. I continue to fill out job applications like that is my job. And I continue to tutor.
Last night I met with a high school freshman and his little sister, a seventh grader. They are children of Indian heritage whose parents’ first language is not English. They have high aspirations — big goals. So together we worked through test prep and grammar games. We struggled and laughed together.
I got home and was working on my puzzle when a different high school freshman, another son of Indian parents, messaged me in a panic. The assignment we poured over on Saturday is all wrong. It is 9:30pm. Is it too late to help him re-work it before his presentation tomorrow. The messages went back and forth until midnight. Poor kid had himself all stressed out. But the stakes, for him, are high. He, too, has big goals.
If I’d had to get up this morning to go direct a program at the university, I would’ve been in bed by 8:00. The kid would find someone else. I would have other kids to interact with, too. But right now, we have each other.
I know. I see it. You don’t have to tell me. My husband is not the only one who sees my need to do the things that feed me while also seeing my limitations. He’s allowing me to interact with students and stay in pajamas until 10:30am (ok, it’s 11:00 now).
He’s answering my prayers and I am still submitting my requests. It’s ok. He gets me. He understands that I am used to doing so much more. He knows that it is hard for me to rest, hard for me to be still, hard to trust that He’s got our situation under control.
So, I’m sitting here blogging, and my husband sends me a text. He’s sitting in chapel and hears 1 Samuel 2:2. He says it’s a comfort to him this morning.
“There is none holy like the Lord; for there is none beside you;
there is no rock like our God.”
No one else understands my needs before I ask. No one else knows the plans He has for me, plans to help me and not to harm me. No one else is holding me in the palm of His hand.
Ok, no more job applications today. I’m gonna go work on my puzzle.