One of a Million (or more)

Well, it looks like I have joined the ranks of the millions in the USA that are unemployed. I got the news last Wednesday. I have to say that I was completely surprised when it happened. I have known for a few weeks now that lay-offs were coming, but I was told several times by my supervisor that my position was the only one in my department that was secure. They needed me, he said. I guess they changed their minds. I was the only person in the department who was let go. I really wonder what the conversation was that resulted in me being the one they chose. I ran things in that department for the past 3 years. I really was the only person who had a handle on everything that happened there. It doesn’t make any sense to me, or anyone else I talked to about it, (including my supervisor, who was as shocked as I was about it) but I guess it must make sense to someone.

So, I’m now spending my days updating my resume, researching the job market and applying at employment agencies. It’s not too much fun. I hope I don’t have to do it too long.
To make matters more complicated, my husband’s job will be ending in 3 days. I’m not sure how we are going to survive on the unemployment checks of 2 people, but it seems that we may have to figure out how to do that.

My comfort in the matter is that I know that God knew this was going to happen. He knows what we need more that I do and he will not let us fall. It may be that this is a time where we will really have to learn how to trust in him, that he will provide for our needs. I don’t know what he has planned for our future, but I know that I have been working very hard over the past year (more than any other time in my life) to walk in his will and I believe he will honor that.

I’m excited to see how God is going to work out this very difficult situation. Our pastor said a couple of weeks ago that when we ask for a miracle we have to have faith that it will happen and then look for it to come to pass. I’m keeping my eyes open for the miracle that is coming our way.

Please believe with me for the financial miracle that my family needs.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

Miracles

At my church, we recently had a series on miracles. We prayed for spiritual, relationship, physical and financial miracles. There have been many miracles that occurred in the lives of people in our church. Because of this, I've been contemplating why some people receive miracles and others don't. Why does God heal minor maladies of some people, but allow the cancer to continue raging through the bodies of others? Why does one person receive a financial windfall while another, who seems to need it more, gets nothing? It doesn't make any sense. I don't doubt that God is sovereign and that there are things happening that we have no idea of, but it just seems so random sometimes. There must be a reason behind these things; I just wish there was a way to know what it is.

Would I have received the healing I asked for if I had more faith? What if I had been better about tithing, would that have made a difference? Why do I deserve it less than the ones who were healed?

I guess that's where faith comes in. Trusting that even though it doesn't make any sense, God still is in control and has a plan.

Maybe someday I'll be able to accept that answer without the fear and anger that sometimes derails me. Right now, I'm upset because I believed that we would receive the miracles in our bodies and miracles in our finances that we asked for, but nothing has happened. In fact, things seem to have gotten worse. My husband is about to lose his job and he's just as sick as he was last month and now we really can't afford health insurance to get him checked out. Everything in the world seems to be falling apart and there's no way to know when someone will show up to start putting the pieces back together.

I'm prone to bouts of depression and I feel myself sinking again. I hope my ramblings here have not brought down anyone who happens to be reading this. Sometimes getting my thoughts and feelings out into the open helps me not become overwhelmed by the emotional tides that ebb and flow within me.

Working from home

I've been working from home the last couple of afternoons because my kids are sick and my mother-in-law is sick too and feeling too weak to be looking after them. It's nice to be home more, but it's a challenge to work at home. It's hard because on the one hand I feel like I should be getting more done around the house but on the other hand, I still have the same amount of work that needs to be done for my job. I get to see the kids more, but they want to be in on what I am doing, which is distracting and makes me less efficient.

Sometimes I think that it would be good for me to find a way to work from home all the time, but then when I have to do it, like today, I realize that it would be much harder than the rosy picture I have of it in my head. I might go a little stir-crazy and desperate for other adult conversation. On the other hand, I'm sure I'd get used to it. It would just take some adjusting.

I don't know what the answer is. Working outside the home keeps me away from the kids too much. Working from home is hard and might leave the kids feeling like I'm always pushing them away or sending them to their rooms to play. Not working isn't an option right now, so what do I do?

What does everyone else do?

What the future holds

For those of you who have been keeping up with my blog, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. Since my last post, things have changed quite a bit for me. I am now actively following the dream that God put in my heart. I’m still writing, I’m just writing different things. Mostly, I’m writing lyrics for songs my husband and I are working on. I’m taking voice lessons and we are now putting together a band to perform our songs. Things are starting to happen, and it is really exciting. God is showing me over and over that he has big plans for us if we will just follow him wherever he takes us.

It’s hard to explain, but I really believe that God has us on a path that will lead us to amazing things if we don’t get scared and back off. Big things are in store. I’m eager to see what happens next.

Reviving a Dream

I know, I know. I’ve been a bit lax in posting to my blog, lately. I’ve had a lot going on and writing has not been at the forefront of my mind. Work has been crazy. My Little Man has been trying to get a molar for the past few weeks and being VERY disagreeable about it. I’m starting to think someone stole my sweet little boy and replaced him with an obstinate, overly sensitive grump. I’m ready to have my son back.

To make things even more interesting, I’m reading a book right now called The Dream Giver by Bruce Wilkinson. In it, he talks about how God gives each person a Big Dream for their life. This is something that each person is born with and is designed to do. People usually know from a young age what their Big Dream is. If you don’t know what your Big Dream is, think back to what you wanted to do when you were a child. Many people decide somewhere along the way that the Dream they have is impossible and they give it up in favor of a more reasonable pursuit. This really only leads to living a life that feels unfulfilling and like something is missing.

This book is really speaking to me because I have spent the last few years of my life trying to figure out why I always feel so unsatisfied. I have always felt that I was meant for something bigger, something more that what I am doing. Apparently, I was right. I’m not meant to have an ordinary life. None of us are. We are meant to be doing extraordinary work that God designed for us to do before we were born.

Here’s the hard part. Reading this book reminded me what my Big Dream is. It reminded me about the dream that I’ve had since I was a child. It reminded me that God spoke to me 7 years ago and told me that it was what he had for me. It reminded me of the dream that I decided about 5 years ago I wasn’t talented enough to pursue. It resurrected the dream that I gave up because it was too much of a “pipe dream”.

It’s been an enormously emotional experience. It was more painful that I would have guessed to begin to believe again in the dream that I have given up on. I’m still struggling with it. Mostly, I’m scared. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough, that people won’t care enough to listen to me, that I’ll try and fail miserably, that I’ll invest myself in something that really has no chance of succeeding. I’m trying to convince myself to try anyway.

Confession

I named this blog “Confessions of a Working Mother”, so I suppose there should be some confessions here once in a while. So here goes . . .

I don’t think I’m very good at being a working mom.

Now I know that women tend to be too hard on themselves, and I’m no exception, but I just think that other working moms seem to handle it better than I do. I just haven’t been able to figure out how to work full-time, keep the house clean, spend enough time with the kids so they won’t be scarred for life by my absence, keep them fed with good, nutritious food (which must be organic and free of high fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated oils, MSG, steroids, hormones and any other evil I can’t think of at the moment or haven’t heard about yet), nurture my relationship with my husband, work on my personal development and expand my skill-set so that I can advance at work, watch enough t.v. so that I have a clue what people are talking about around the watercooler, work on the novel that’s been percolating in my head for the past 6 years, keep up with the latest fashion and hair styles, stay slim and in shape, and make sure I have enough “me time” so that I don’t go crazy. Oh, and don’t forget the necessary 8 hours of sleep every night. There’s more, but I think that gives you a basic idea.

I just don’t have enough hours in the day to do all that. I’ve gotten pretty good at multitasking, but still something is going get put off or pushed to the side.

I’m ashamed to admit that my children eat too many meals that consist of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, mac & cheese with chicken nuggets, or cheeseburgers and french fries. I know they should be eating organic eggs from free-range chickens with nitrate-free bacon for breakfast and grass-fed beef with pesticide-free veggies purchased from the local farmers market, but I have two hours from the time I get home till they need to be getting ready for bed and I’d like to spend some of that time interacting with them in a way that doesn’t include the sentence “You’ll eat it because it’s good for you and I said so.”

Another area in which I am failing miserably (much to my own embarrassment) is housekeeping. I don’t like to invite people over because my house is never clean. Ten minutes after I finish cleaning something, it is dirty again. When I had only one child and didn’t have a job, I mostly kept up with it, but now it’s out of control. In some ways I’ve given up trying to have a clean home because the amount of time it would take to keep everything clean would leave me nothing left to do any of the other things I listed above. So, somewhere along the way, I decided that it was more important for me to spend time actually playing with my children rather than following them around the house with a vacuum in one hand and a wet wash cloth in the other.

Does that make me a bad mom? Maybe by some standards. Sometimes by my own. Most days I’m ok with it. Now and then, though, I encounter another mother at the mall who works full time and looks like she just stepped out of Vogue magazine with her kids who could be featured in a Baby Gap ad. She talks about the dinner party she had at her home last weekend and the gourmet meal she made, from scratch. I start wondering why I can’t keep it all together they way she does. What character flaw do I have that she is obviously lacking?

Then her four year old daughter throws herself on the floor in a kicking, screaming tantrum because she just saw my daughter wearing a Tinkerbell costume and it reminded her that she wanted to wear her Cinderella dress, not this outfit that matches her baby sister!
That’s when I realize that looking perfect doesn’t mean being perfect. (And I make myself feel better by telling myself that she probably has a rich husband and a housekeeper to do all the things that she’s not doing while making herself and her children look so good.)

I can only hope that when it comes time to pass through the Pearly Gates, “Thou shalt have a clean house” won’t be the 11th Commandment that all who enter must have kept. Maybe God will forgive me for not trying to be perfect. ^_^


But the Lord said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

Unexpected News

Well, it’s official. I’ve had suspicions for the past couple of weeks, but didn’t really know until today that it is true. I almost can’t believe it.

So what’s the big news, you ask? No, I’m not pregnant. No, my husband isn’t cheating on me. No, I haven’t been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for blogging. The news is that as of today, I wear a size 8. Yes, a size 8, as in a single digit on the tag in my jeans. I tried on 8’s in three different brands at Macy’s, just to be sure. For me, this is an occasion for celebration! I haven’t been able to wear this size since I was a freshman in high school.

For those who don’t know me personally, I’ve spent the last year and a half working hard to lose weight. Low carbing is my method of choice. (If you are interested in learning more, ask, and I’ll point you in the right direction.) In October of 2005 I weighed in at a little over 200 lbs. I count my starting weight as 205, but I don’t really know for sure what it was, since I didn’t have a scale and only weighed at other people’s houses. I was growing out of my size 16 stretch jeans. I knew it was getting bad because I didn’t like to get down on the floor to play with my daughter because all my belly fat squished my lungs when I leaned over and made it hard to breathe. I preferred to wear slip-on shoes because tying my shoelaces was so uncomfortable. I had very little energy and tried not to stand up and sit down too much because my knees were starting to hurt. All these things should have clued me in that I needed to make a change, but somehow I just kept telling myself that it wasn’t that bad. The person I saw in the mirror needed to lose some weight, but certainly wasn’t obese.

Then I saw a picture taken of me at my birthday dinner. I actually really saw myself. I don’t know why it’s so much different to see it in a picture rather than the mirror, but it was different. I could no longer deny that my weight was out of control. Something clicked in my mind and I decided at that moment, “This is it. I have to lose this weight. I’m done being fat.” I knew that Atkins worked for me because I had lost around 40 pounds a few years earlier on that plan. (The weight came back because of a lot of drama in my life that took my focus off my eating as well as having and nursing two babies.)

I changed the way I was eating that day and I haven’t looked back since. I certainly haven’t been perfect, but I have been consistent and I think that that is the one of the primary things that has gotten me to where I am now.

Along the way, I met a very special group of ladies on LowCarbFriends.com that have helped me to be accountable and stick with this thing when it got hard. Actually, there was one lady in particular who has been with me through it all. Pri17cess, I don’t think I ever said “Thank You”. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.

So, back to my original topic. Size 8. I actually thought that it was not possible. I really believed that size 10 was probably as small as I could go. If you had told me two years ago that I could get down to an 8 and even think about trying for a 6, I probably would have thought that you were making some kind of cruel joke at my expense. All my life I’ve been told that I have what are affectionately referred to as “good birthing hips”. My mom told me that I was a “pear-shape” when I was a teenager, since I carried most of my weight in my hips and thighs. This was true, but it led me to believe that it was a condition that would never change. I was told many times that I “carried my weight well” which was supposed to be a compliment, I know, but told me that I was just meant to be on the heavy side. Imagine my surprise, then, to discover that I’m not as big-boned as I thought. My hips aren’t forever doomed to stay size 10 or larger.

I still have a little bit of weight to lose. Maybe 10 or 15 lbs. I don’t really know for sure because I’ve never been at this weight as an adult. I’m just going to have to get there and see how it looks on me. I think that I’ll know if I ever get past the point of looking slim to emaciated. If not, my husband loves me and will tell me if he thinks I’ve lost too much.

It’s funny for me to talk about the possibility of losing too much. I’ve been at least slightly overweight since I started puberty. I spent several years trying to convince myself that I should just accept that I was overweight because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life loathing my body because it wouldn’t function like others and be naturally slim on the typical American diet of pasta, donuts and french fries. Being too skinny was not something that could happen to me. But here I am, trying to make sure that not only do I get myself to a healthy weight, but keep myself in a healthy mindset about it, too. It’s a paradigm shift, to be sure.

It didn’t happen overnight, and I think I’m glad it didn’t. I’ve had a few stalls, (and actually am in the middle of a long one right now) but I think those times have helped give me time to adjust to my smaller body as well as the changes in the way people interact with me as a result of it. I’m not ready to say that I’m at my goal weight, yet. But this is a big milestone for me, and I couldn’t help but share it with anyone who would listen (or read, as the case may be).