Heartbreak, Headache, & Hope

Sending Off James

The week has begun as a stressful mess. Made the two-hour drive to the airport to drop James off for his flight to his dad's. Three weeks without him. His dad is taking their family to New York for the holidays. It'll be the trip of a lifetime. I'm so happy the kid has the opportunity to visit the Big Apple, yet I've tried so hard to shield him from my worry and from the heartache I experience every time I have to hand him off to the "Other Family."

He tries to be funny, to wield his humor to lift the little gray cloud over my head. "You know, Mom, it figures Al Qaeda would plan something on New York's subways precisely when I'm supposed to visit."

"You're not helping, James."

"Sorry, Mom."

He tries.

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"Houdini" Departure

Another Tuesday Extracurriculars run of commutes, in my pajamas, because I'd forgotten all about the schedule for the day until half an hour before we were supposed to leave. Four heads of hair, four mouths of teeth all brushed, socks and shoes on, materials stuffed into bags in less than ten minutes. That's got to be a record for us.

Got everybody where they needed to be on time, but after the rush to beat the clock, I sat in the respective parking lots, waiting and waiting and waiting, having not had enough time to gather odds and ends for errands I could've knocked out in the interim.

Instead of napping, I spent the time trying to pick up a wireless connection on the laptop so I could finish the resume and cover letter I was working on at home when the schedule walloped me on the head.

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God's Window?

My writing mentor passed on a job lead this morning. "Leading parenting and education publication seeking engaging writers..." and so forth and so on. She thought it might be a good match for me. She said, "The pay's not great," but actually, the pay's not bad as far as I'm concerned. $125 a week isn't a bad supplement for working from home, for handing in 200 words a day, five days a week.

But it is a time commitment. And it's a writing commitment.

Just wrote a long e-mail to a friend about Anne Rice's autobiography, the narrative of her conversion, her return to faith, and her decision to write exclusively for the Lord.

I haven't read the book yet myself, but for an author of her stature, such a decision no doubt has had a tremendous impact on her career.

Compared to Rice, I'm still a wet-eared rookie, nowhere nearly as established, so such a move for me wouldn't "shift the foundations of my readership," as it were. I guess at this juncture, such a decision for me would cause barely a ripple in my professional life.

But I don't feel quite ready, quite prepared, quite seasoned enough, quite grounded enough in my faith to begin to pursue publication of exclusively "Christian" literature. That time may come, but it hasn't arrived just yet. I believe God will let me know in no uncertain terms when the time does come.

In the meantime, I half-hope this job opportunity pans out. Oh, how the family could use an extra $500 a month.

I asked everyone in my prayer circle to pray for me, including the kids. Yet I made it clear, I won't be disheartened if the job doesn't come through.

Why?

Because I have absolute faith God is only going to put me where He wants me, where I will best serve His purposes in His time. If this column is not it, this column is not it.

What I do know is that He does have a plan for me that will work to the good of all who love Him. Knowing that, I am not anxious, not afraid, and not discontent.

Lord, help me continue in patience and peace.

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Church Visitation #1

I almost forgot.

The entire Plainview family did make it to visit a new church together on Sunday morning. Getting out the door was virtually painless. Mr. Plainview seemed quite satisfied with his decision to come along, and he did look handsome in his slacks and button-down shirt.

The bishop was kind and welcoming. Others in the congregation were happy to help us find the classrooms where the children needed to go, but as I expected, Eve's shyness took over, and she asked to go with me, Mr. Plainview, and James into the sanctuary to listen to the sermon. (Poor girl. She's come such a long way from her cheek-blushing, face-flushing days of hiding beneath my arm when anyone tried to speak to her. But she still has a way to go before she can navigate society unaffected. If she's like me, it may take her a lifetime of struggle to ever get "comfortable.")

Naturally, we would choose to visit a church on an "off-day." That is, a visiting speaker or a special service, or something else that is out of the norm. On those days, I find churches welcome visitors, yet they are apologetic for the mild chaos and warn us the service is not necessarily representative of the "usual" services.

The message was sweet: "Advent: Preparing the way of the Lord." But I don't think it was as deeply moving as we'd all hoped it might be. Eve wanted to hear more of the choir. James just wanted to be back in his bed. I would've liked a bit more scripture.

And Mr. Plainview...well...he was unimpressed. He's hard to impress anyway. I think he would've been happiest had we gotten up before dawn and made the two-and-a-half hour drive back to our home town to attend services at his childhood home.

However...I am in no way discouraged. I suggested each member of the family takes a turn choosing which church we'll visit. Mr. Plainview had no protests, so maybe if I assume we're trying again this coming Sunday, he'll be onboard by default?

Hope springs eternal. I have faith. I'm slowly coming to realize the "power of a praying wife." (Amen!)