Monday, October 12, 2015

Walk with me and we can not quite know together


Since coming home to care for the kids, letting go of my job as a teacher, I’ve fumbled in answering that question of how long I plan to stay.   “Hmm. I don’t know.” I’ve said those gray words so many times. No great crafted answer. Just a vague, unfinished statement.

And I hadn’t known for a while for all kinds of reasons. I’m supporting Paul in what he does and he’s supporting me. It’s romantic and difficult and good. I’m loving homeschool and getting good (better) at being a homemaker which I find surprisingly fulfilling. And then there's the time with my kids--that thing that I just can't quit no matter the strewn toys and long days. 

Stepping away from teaching was exhilarating but scary. My feet ached for firm ground and yet I wanted even more to stay put & make something of something new. It was the most daring ordinary thing I will ever do.  

I know a bit more of my plan now because I’ve gone ahead and made a path.  But there is always openness to what we do not know and what we can not predict.  Hearts change. Careers change. Families change. Some of these changes we feel slowly, some click as quiet as a switch inside our soul, and others tumble on top of us and turn us inside out in no time, no warning: “Up ahead. Total life reboot.”  

+   +    +    +    +

I had thought that this vulnerability in uncertainty walked with me because I quit my job, but I learned this year that this particular vulnerability harbors no prejudice. Uncertainty walks with all of us.  It wasn’t a symptom of not having a paycheck. It is a symptom of being human. 


Throughout this year, women have come over to talk, coffee mug in hand and maybe kids playing at our feet. Old friends. Family members. Friends I’m close with now and who visit often.  I’ve listened to stories of things I missed before or things that are so new they’re raw and far from finished. I’ve listened to the hearts of women and I’ve seen how not alone I am.  

From afar, these women upheld lives that looked like perfect plans unfurled.  Or if not that, at least tidy, under control, secure.  I had made assumptions.  I had compared their front stage performance to my back stage scrambling.  I had mostly gotten it all wrong.  

I hurt all over just looking at this photo.

I’ve seen the truth of life laughing at our plans and not just mine.  I’ve seen the truth of my friends living outside of certainty and yet walking forward because life didn’t stop to fix up things and throw a rope when it was needed.  These women. Their lives.  So many things shattered, mended and hurting, so many things you couldn’t know from Facebook and Instagram, so many things outside of their plans that shaped their stories [and shape their stories] and have bloomed on their gorgeous faces because their faith and character pulled them through but not perfection.  Not anything near perfection.  So many things that they still just don’t know. 

All of us. We’re doing what we can with what we have. Obstacles ignite our creativity and stump us too. No guide to tell us why the bleeping hill just doesn’t end or how many miles more to the water.  We walk with confidence, with the things we know to be good.  We have joy in making plans for being our best selves.  But we have blank spaces too that we don’t yet have answers for. Hearts spilling over with silent grief. Cracked hands from tough work.  A turning over in our minds of things we wish we could control but can’t. 

Do you have plans? Yes?! Me too! So many plans. 

But do you also feel wonderment and gratitude for the things beyond the plans? 

Adventures you can not see. 

Splashes of color where you have pulled out a fresh, blank canvas. 

Inevitable turns up ahead that will have you doing things you don’t want but need, can’t know how but want, and won’t plan but is an unfinished part of you already just waiting for completion.

Me too! 

Plans are very, very good. But the things outside our plans, maybe even especially that which mystifies or frustrates or grieves or tires or stretches or pulls us to our knees in humility because the freaking roof blew off our box…

These are good because this is what has us grow the most. We become something we weren’t before. We become something that even our most perfectly perfect of beautiful plans can’t hold a match to because those plans were of the stuff inside us and this is of the stuff beyond. 

Where you find discomfort.  Where you find blank space.  Where you find vulnerability in uncertainty.


Go there.  I will meet you there & walk right along with you. I’ll laugh with you or cry with you or just get quiet with you.  Whatever you need, friend, but I’ll meet you there.  

12 comments:

  1. Tears. Can we be friends!? I too quit my job too - and it was a very stable job. Plans change, careers change and the one thing that sticks is the need to be around my children and the fulfillment I get from being a homemaker - nurturing my family. It's a love that I cannot shake and thank God for every minute of the day. <3

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We can absolutely be friends!! I totally hear you. I see too that my friends who are working more of the full time way are doing so because their heart is the same as mine, but they are building a future up for their family or are able to use the money they make in really wonderful ways now that I can't because I have to stretch my resources differently. We all want time to love on our people. We just all have different ways of going about it.

      Delete
  2. SO GOOD. On some level, I feel like my blog series this month is airing my dirty laundry, showing everyone the untidy, sometimes hard to talk about pieces of me and my life. But I've been blown away with the responses. Turns out I'm not alone, hah! So glad we can walk this complicated road together.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I know we want to use discretion with what we put online. Permanent record and all. But people aren't surprised to find dirty laundry. They are usually more relieved you are willing to share. If by writing I, or others, see things that aren't good--great! Time to get to work! :)

      Delete
  3. This is so beautifully written. Thank you for speaking right to me today!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Laura! That's so kind. Have a wonderful week!

      Delete
  4. this is lovely. And I'm rereading "A Mother's Rule of Life" which I hated at first read and now...now it reads differently. And it reads a lot like this post.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hmm. I just picked it back up to take some notes last week. I hadn't read it in years but I really need it now. My life is pretty chaotic. Sister could use some order! :)

      Delete
  5. Amen to not quite knowing! I feel like so much of my life is kind of dictated by children and pregnancies and have learned not to make plans and just go with what God calls us to... But it's still hard! I want to have my plans and know exactly what's happening when, but instead the uncertainty will always be here!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes! I didn't know how to say that part about babies delicately. Frankly, I just don't know. And I know other people who just don't know for completely different reasons. Completely different. I don't know right now because the husband is reluctant to have more (and I'm saying that in the "softest" words...) and I have friends who don't know because of infertility and miscarriages and tricky work situations. There's such a vulnerability in having a uterus. Even when I wasn't all that open to life, life forced it's way regardless. Thank goodness for that! But yes, lots of uncertainty, but I think life can be more fun that way... at least when there's at least a roof over the heads and food in the mouths of babes.

      Delete
  6. Oh I hope there are things waiting for me around the corner of tomorrow that I can't plan for, good things and surprises that I cannot imagine right now.

    ReplyDelete