When the girls were little, pretty much from the time we got them until just a few months ago, I worked all the time. I had a full-time job in a church. I loved my job and the people I worked with each day. It was a challenging job in so many ways, and fed some really great parts of me. But it also fed some not so great parts of me. That's truth.
I remember that I used to explain to Shannay that I had to work because my job was helping people love Jesus more. Some mornings when I would leave for work or drop her off at the day care and she would balk (freak out is a better description, that or have a near nuclear life-shifting meltdown) I would say, "Shannay, Mommy has to go help people love Jesus more."
When I think about that now, ugh. I'll bet that sweet little girl was thinking, "But I need you Mommy. "I" need you to stay here with me. "I" need you to help me not be afraid. "I" need you to constantly remind me that my world will not ever be an evil, scary place again."
That's not really the direction I was going with this post, so let me shift back.
I used to try to explain to her what I did as my work. Why I had to be gone all the time. And I think on her level, she got it. Mama had a job. People have jobs. Jobs help us eat and have clothes and have a place to live. Jobs are good.
And over time, she got used to me being gone all the time.
Then life changed. And Mama was home all the time.
At home and on her computer.
A few weeks ago I was explaining to Shannay what my job was. (She asked me why I didn't go to work anymore.)
I explained to her that when I was on my computer, I was working. That my work was writing. When she asked me what I was writing (which by the way EVERYONE asks), I thought about it for awhile and then I said, "Well, I guess you could say I write people's stories for them."
Yesterday, she was playing at her desk near mine and she had a pretend laptop on her desk. When I asked her what she was doing she said, "I'm doing my job."
So I said, "What's your job, Shannay?"
She said, "I'm helping my friends tell their stories. Just like you, Mom."
Melt. My. Heart.
All that to say, I'm still getting used to answering the question, "What do you do for a living?" I still have days where I miss the interaction with other adults. But moments like yesterday make the transition so much easier. What do I do for a living? Well, I guess I'm helping my friends tell their stories.
Showing posts with label Self-Employment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Self-Employment. Show all posts
Day 71: The Wondering Place
I remember learning to ride a bike because I was NINE YEARS OLD before I learned, which, by the way, was the same year I learned how to tie my shoes. I really don't know why I was so old before I learned either of these milestones of childhood, but I think my memory is so vivid BECAUSE I was so old.
I didn't start off with training wheels. I didn't get a push down the street from my daddy. I just got on, fell off, got on, fell off, pedaled a few feet, fell off, etc., until eventually I was rolling down the street.
I remember how incredibly uncertain I felt, and even wondered if learning was even necessary. But somehow, I knew it was. I knew I had to conquer my fear of that bike or I would forever be stuck in fear, of everything. Somehow, my fear of the world was wrapped up in that bike, and I had to ride. The universe demanded it. So I did it.
Despite the fear. Despite the pain. I rode.
And that's how I feel today.
I have worked full-time in a church or church related field for the last 17 years of my life, and part time for the last 25.
And the thought of doing anything else is crippling at times.
People tell me my skills are transferable. Someone even said to me, "Carol, you should consider working outside the church. You could make some company a LOT of money."
Multiple people have said I should write full time.
But each morning, I wake up with a great big giant question mark over my head. And I wonder, "God, what do you have for me now?"
I'm not writing this to say I have an answer. I don't.
But I know I can't stay here long, in this wondering place. I've got to get on the bike and ride. The universe demands it. (Maybe that's an overstatement.)
All that to say, I know the Lord will speak to me in His time. And maybe He'll tell me to write, or to work in a church, or to do something else I've never done before. I just have to resist the urge to jump on my bike and careen down a hill!
I didn't start off with training wheels. I didn't get a push down the street from my daddy. I just got on, fell off, got on, fell off, pedaled a few feet, fell off, etc., until eventually I was rolling down the street.
I remember how incredibly uncertain I felt, and even wondered if learning was even necessary. But somehow, I knew it was. I knew I had to conquer my fear of that bike or I would forever be stuck in fear, of everything. Somehow, my fear of the world was wrapped up in that bike, and I had to ride. The universe demanded it. So I did it.
Despite the fear. Despite the pain. I rode.
And that's how I feel today.
I have worked full-time in a church or church related field for the last 17 years of my life, and part time for the last 25.
And the thought of doing anything else is crippling at times.
People tell me my skills are transferable. Someone even said to me, "Carol, you should consider working outside the church. You could make some company a LOT of money."
Multiple people have said I should write full time.
But each morning, I wake up with a great big giant question mark over my head. And I wonder, "God, what do you have for me now?"
I'm not writing this to say I have an answer. I don't.
But I know I can't stay here long, in this wondering place. I've got to get on the bike and ride. The universe demands it. (Maybe that's an overstatement.)
All that to say, I know the Lord will speak to me in His time. And maybe He'll tell me to write, or to work in a church, or to do something else I've never done before. I just have to resist the urge to jump on my bike and careen down a hill!
Day 66: Working for The Man
Being self-employed is not easy. If you have ever been self-employed, then you know what I mean. Some days it is really just freaking hard, and the lure of going back to work for someone else is very attractive.
I was reading something this morning about self-employment and the dismal failure rate of small businesses.
The person writing the article used the phrase "captive employment" when talking about working for someone else. Gotta admit, that made me chuckle a bit.
So your options are captivity or probable failure.
Joy.
I've mentioned a couple of times that my husband, Mike, started his own company, Maximum Pest Management, a little over a year ago (yes, it's another shameless plug - get over it). And I have to say, watching him navigate the waters from captivity to business owner has been difficult.
He's an expert in his field. He has worked in this industry for over 30 years. He even has a degree in Entomology. He actually trains the staff of OTHER pest control companies. (Yes, he's that good).
But even with that impressive list of credentials, he has to work his john brown hind parts off to succeed. Every day he has to be the owner, sales team, service tech, bookkeeper (well, I'm sort of the bookkeeper, but I'm free, so he doesn't get much out of me!) as well as perform every other function of the company. He's it. He's the man. (Which is a little funny if you think about it. He works for himself and he STILL works for the man! HA! . . . It's late, I should not blog late at night . . .)
I asked him tonight if he liked owning his own company (we had our first ever "company meeting" . . . someone should probably being praying for him . . . or me . . . or both of us) and he said he did. Phew! That's good news! I'd hate to think he's working this hard for something he doesn't like!
I'm proud of him for starting his own company. It's outside his personality type. He's not so much of a risk taker. Unless of course you count marrying me. That was certainly a risky move, but hey, here we are 31 years later, so sometimes risk taking pays off.
All that to say, I just wanted to tell you I'm proud of you, Mike Jones. And I know you're working hard. And I also appreciate that my house is bug free. (it's a bonus, but I appreciate it!)
I was reading something this morning about self-employment and the dismal failure rate of small businesses.
The person writing the article used the phrase "captive employment" when talking about working for someone else. Gotta admit, that made me chuckle a bit.
So your options are captivity or probable failure.
Joy.
I've mentioned a couple of times that my husband, Mike, started his own company, Maximum Pest Management, a little over a year ago (yes, it's another shameless plug - get over it). And I have to say, watching him navigate the waters from captivity to business owner has been difficult.
He's an expert in his field. He has worked in this industry for over 30 years. He even has a degree in Entomology. He actually trains the staff of OTHER pest control companies. (Yes, he's that good).
But even with that impressive list of credentials, he has to work his john brown hind parts off to succeed. Every day he has to be the owner, sales team, service tech, bookkeeper (well, I'm sort of the bookkeeper, but I'm free, so he doesn't get much out of me!) as well as perform every other function of the company. He's it. He's the man. (Which is a little funny if you think about it. He works for himself and he STILL works for the man! HA! . . . It's late, I should not blog late at night . . .)
I asked him tonight if he liked owning his own company (we had our first ever "company meeting" . . . someone should probably being praying for him . . . or me . . . or both of us) and he said he did. Phew! That's good news! I'd hate to think he's working this hard for something he doesn't like!
I'm proud of him for starting his own company. It's outside his personality type. He's not so much of a risk taker. Unless of course you count marrying me. That was certainly a risky move, but hey, here we are 31 years later, so sometimes risk taking pays off.
All that to say, I just wanted to tell you I'm proud of you, Mike Jones. And I know you're working hard. And I also appreciate that my house is bug free. (it's a bonus, but I appreciate it!)
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