This morning, as I drove my boys to school, my first-grader whined and cried, "I want to be home-schooled!" He's still adjusting to a new teacher, building, schedule, town, and house.
Me too.
He's also getting used to Mommy working full-time.
Me too!
When I said, "We'll get to spend time together after school," he replied fiercely, "But you're not there when I get home."
Ouch.
I'm thankful Carey can pick Jackson up, but that stung. I like my job, but it IS hard to work 40 hours a week when I've been used to a much more flexible schedule. When I see moms congregating outside the building after drop-off, chatting leisurely, I long for the days when I could stop and "visit," too.
There have been many moments when I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself. We moved for the second time in three years, from a 1,700 square foot house into a <1,200 square foot apartment. We don't have a yard, our dog is staying with my parents, our finances are still unsure until Carey finds part-time work, and we haven't met many people yet. I miss my friends terribly. And while the apartment complex is quiet and pretty, I long for more of my things. Sometimes, I've given into the temptation and--I admit it--pouted like a little girl who didn't get her way.
This wasn't my plan. 2010 wasn't supposed to look like this.
But just when I get ready to throw a grand, no-holds-barred pity party, God reminds me--mostly through my job--how blessed I am.
--When Carey had to be out of town, I was able to call my parents (who now live only an hour away) and have them pick the boys up from school. Last night, we met my brother and his family, and some of their friends, for ice cream.
At bedtime, wiping chocolate off my contented 6 year-old's face and kissing his cheeks (red and sweaty from playing wtih his cousins), I prayed: "Thank you!"
It's wonderful to be near family. We've never experienced that blessing in our 15 years of marriage.
--As I unwrapped certain items, couldn't find a space for them, and had to wrap them back up and send them into storage, I whined, "Lord, this isn't fair."
And then I thought about the families who come to Amarillo from refugee camps, traumatized and exhausted--with no possessions except the clothes on their back. They're beyond grateful for the simplest things that we provide--a bed, couch, chairs, tables, basic toiletries and kitchen items, a little bit of food, and a few other things. My stuff is really just fluff, after all.
God, I'm sorry. I take so much for granted.
--Lamenting the lack of space to "spread out," I drive up to our office building and see disabled and/or homeless people (many of them mentally ill) waiting on the food pantry to open for the day.
I suck in my breath and pray: "Lord, forgive me for being discontent."
--When I complain about my schedule, God reminds me of our clients who work nights slaughtering chickens or packing meat, and then go straight to a morning English class, just so they can get a better job and perhaps an education. And listening to the radio, I hear that 500,000 people lost their jobs in one day last week.
God, forgive me for being so spoiled.
I have a job. We have more than enough of everything we really need. We sold our house and avoided having to rent it or sell it long-distance. Our little brood loves each other, and we're closer than ever. We laugh together--a lot. We were able to sit in Sunday morning church together and then go out to eat as a foursome, without Carey (or I) having to run off to perform in a matinee. It's truly the little things that mean so much.
You know, Carey and I talked about simplifying our lives for some time, and now we're actually doing it. This move and the subsequent changes are teaching us what's really important--family, friends, faith--and what's not--a big house, a well-manicured lawn, neighbors who look just like us, and too many things cluttering up our minds, hearts, and space.
The picture above is of refugee children in an African camp. What peace and love shines on their faces! As overfed American Christians, it's hard for us to understand how they could have joy. Happiness in the midst of tragedy? Peace coinciding with hunger? What's that all about?!
God's perspective is different. He sees poverty of spirit as the real tragedy. And in America, we're saturated with it.
Remember Haiti after the earthquake? Newscasters told stories of nationals who'd lost all their earthly possessions--and some of their friends and loved ones--singing praise songs. People were mystified. How could those who'd lost so much be singing? They had nothing materially to call their own. The people of Haiti had lost all that the "world" considers important.
But maybe, just maybe, in that moment, stripped of all their worldly goods, they had everything they really needed.
I'm learning that life continually places moments of decision in front of me..and you.The choice is ours: gratitude or greed? Contentment or anger? Peace or frustration?
It's all a matter of perspective.
