The Return (or Rerun - Not Sure Which)

Maybe I'll come back to why God is funny in posts that are coming up. Briefly, though, God is funny for the way that He orchestrates things when we need them - and this particular time He did so in a way that He knew would speak to me - through books (one in particular) with a funny little piece of continuity woven into it. But more on that later, maybe...

So I haven't written in over 45 days (so my husband tells me). I think I've departed from this practice so suddenly and defintively because things got hard - again. I don't know why I believe that life in any way for any of us (followers of Christ or not) will be smooth, ever, but I do hold on to that hope sometimes, and I think I loose touch with myself, with my God, with my community, with the kingdom when life does not level out. Like the pearl of great price, I begin to seek that leveling with all that I am - at the cost of many things. Then sometimes, like now, I'm reminded of the friends I met in Uganda who have probably never had what I would call an easy day, and who smile and laugh and rejoice (in the soul-deep sense of the word) anyway or of the many people in my own little world who struggle deeply in various ways and who do so with joy, and I'm humbled.

So if anyone still reads this or ever does read this again, you'll have to pardon the ramblings and disjointedness of this particular post. When I haven't written in a while, the words kind of spill out like the stuff behind a closet door that has been shoved to a close with great effort because the stuff is too much for the contained space. I usually spend the next several days trying to organize what has burst forth. A lot, a lot has happen in this over-45-day span, and my mind is often scattered in general.

I think over the last several weeks, I've been in an Israel (the person, not the nation)kind of a head-space. (For anyone who is grounded in biblical scholarship who might read this, pardon the following gross oversimplification.) I've been wrestling, fighting for myself, demanding God's blessing. Today I feel very much like God himself, with the simplest, lightest touch, has effectively knocked my hip out of its socket, and unlike Jacob, I lay spent on the grass.

Since I wrote last, we've moved from Angel Fire to Los Alamos - a true blessing. Tony has wanted to work with his dad and this church for a long, long time, and God has found this to be good in His own time, and we are blessed because of this. We've had a harder time saying goodbye here than anywhere, I think (but maybe it just feels harder because it is still so raw). I miss my good friends, I miss my home, I miss my parents; but I know, because of the way in which this happened, that this is where we are supposed to be right now and what we are supposed to be doing. Already I feel like a part of Tony's ministry in ways that I haven't been a part in years; this is and feels really, really good. What a blessing...

What I think has weighed on me the most in all of this and what has taken me from writing is my concern over our finances. When it comes down to daily living and paying the bills, I cannot seem to let God handle that. I am practical about our finances, most often at the cost of being faithful with our finances. I want to see the math and know that it's all going to add up (and, in keeping with God being funny, it has hardly ever really worked like that in my adult life), usually, it's very apparent that we are not the ones providing for ourselves. I got a job back in March in Los Alamos (our first concrete nudge in that direction) teaching at UNM- LA part-time. Let me reiterate: I got a job in Los Alamos, where we've wanted to be for a while, in my field, with people I really, really like, doing what I really, really love, after one quick email to the department director. In the economy in the United States right now, this is an amazing gift; even still, as the prospect of paying two mortgages loomed, I just began to grow concerned that it wouldn't be enough. I've been hunting for full-time work daily now for a long time. I've had a few interviews and no offers; none. I've sent out over 60 resumes. I've even applied for office management positions just to hold us until we sell our house. The local high school offered a good possibility, but I could not accept and still do my job for UNM. Wrestling, wrestling, wrestling. Demanding the blessing. I struggle with wondering why I went to school, why I struggled so hard to get this degree that hasn't helped me find employment full-time. My prayer time has been characterized by prayer for others with a delicate avoidance of this struggle. Sometimes I don't want to pray about struggles like these because I really, really don't want to hear what God has to say to me which is ridiculous, because I have seen and tasted His goodness. I know in my marrow that He is good. And yet, I just want it to be done in the way that I envision. More wrestling, a broken hip, submission (in this case), and a new name ("Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel"). As I lay in my outcome different than Jacob after the all-night wrestling, I hear God whispering. "What if? What if my plan is better? What if I want you to be and do more than just survive by paying the bills? What if? What if..."