A Job vs. Working

photo cred: alamy

I was talking with someone a while back and during the course of our conversation it came up that I homeschool my son.  I told this other mom some of the other things I'm doing right now and asked if they thought they could handle doing those things. 

"Me??  I have a JOB," they said rather haughtily.  

{crickets}

I was like, Oh, you have a JOB?  That you get PAID for?  That you work at 40 hours a week, sitting behind a desk, answering phones and filing papers?  Wow!!

I may not have a JOB, but I WORK my butt off.

"Salary.com aimed to market price Mom in the same manner it prices a job. For 10 titles, a nearly 100-hour work-week and a six-figure annual rate, moms may be the most valuable workers in the country." (www.forbes.com)

Ten titles.  100 (plus) work weeks.  No monetary pay.  I get paid in hugs and kisses, headaches, heartaches and never get a vacation.  Even when I'm on vacation...I'm always a mom. And there is no harder, better job I'd rather have!!  Along with the other dozens of things I need to be, I am:

a scientist
a teacher
a friend
a therapist
a nurse
a professional organizer
a taxi driver
a referee
a medical professional 
a psychiatrist
a financial manager
a veterinarian (for my fur-bearing children)
a counselor
a disciplinarian
a boo-boo kisser
a chef
a nutritionist
a housekeeper
a maid
a missionary

and so much more.  

So stay at home, homeschooling moms, whether you work OUTSIDE the home or not:  I see you!  I know how hard you work!  God sees you, and sees you investing in the future generation for the good of His kingdom.  So the next time that person in your life tells you (haughtily and with smug self-appreciation) that they have a JOB, you go ahead and tell them that you work harder than anyone you know, and that according to forbes.com you SHOULD be making $115,000 a year.  

And you are worth every. single. penny.

Still Hangin' In

Well, my last post (before Veterans Day) was a real upper, eh? I was not in a very good place. I've been dealing with a lot of grief lately, but not realizing it. I figure, it's been 10 years, I should be "used" to this, or it shouldn't bother me anymore.

Well, it's NEVER going to NOT bother me, because it's not the way I was made. I was fearfully and wonderfully made, and knitted together in my mother's womb (Psalm 139). Myasthenia gravis is a crippling condition, mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Unless and until I fully comprehend that, I am going to struggle.

I am not just a physical being. I have a mind. I have a soul. I have a spirit. And everything is effected by this wretched disease.

I thought that grief was like a checklist: first you're in denial, then you're angry, then you bargain with God, then you're depressed, then you accept it. Well, it's more like a labyrinth than a ladder. It's not a straight-up-the-pegs-go-through-it-once-and-you're-done-kind of thing. It's more like a crazy, twisted maze that starts you off in one direction, then spins you in another, only to find yourself back at the beginning all over again.

My latest setback was the realization that barring direct act of God, I will not have any more children, neither biologically nor by adopting. Several things have lead up to that decision, which I'm not quite up to sharing yet. All I know is that the hole in my heart seems so big and so consuming, that I feel as if I'll never recover.

I always wanted a lot of kids. I NEVER wanted an only child (no offense to only children, it's just a personal thing). Doug is an only child and it is immense pressure. I never wanted that for my children.

Child.

It's not fair. But it is what it is. I can't change it. I don't know that I'll ever accept it either. But I know I have to grieve. I don't want to, because it hurts. A lot. But the alternative is worse. Keeping it inside only makes it grow, and consuming, and overwhelming, and before you know it, you're in a very deep, dark hole that there's no escaping.

So I will grieve. It will take time. A lot of time. But as Job said, "I KNOW that my Redeemer lives." Whether here or in eternity, there will be redemption.