Who Are You?

"I am a freelance writer."

Those words are rolling off of my tongue a little easier these days, but I still pause before I say them.

You see, I was something else for a lot of years, so my old answer is still the first answer on the tip of my tongue.  

And there is this annoying, awkward gap between the time it takes that answer to form itself on my tongue and the time it takes my heart to remind my brain that I am something different.

A gap that causes a very pregnant and sometimes awkward pause.

Also, saying you're a freelance "anything" sounds like what people say when they don't have a real job.  (Especially if I say it right after a very pregnant and awkward pause) :)

You know, 'cause in the back of my mind I'm saying, "I work from home in my jammies with a laptop."

But as I was praying this morning, and I was thinking about all of this, I realized that I keep saying I "am" this and I "was" that, as if I am somehow defined solely by my vocation.

I work as a freelance writer.  I used to work as a pastor.  Prior to that I worked as a teacher and prior to that a business executive.  But who I am at my core is the same.

I'm still Carol Jones.  Wife to Mike,  mother of four incredible kids and one god-given daughter-in-law, Jesus lover, daughter, friend, mentor, and child of the King.

I am neither a subtotal of my mistakes, nor am I solely defined by the work I do.  Those are pieces of me, certainly.  They add color and description to a beautiful tapestry that God is weaving.

All that to say, who are you?

Joy Comes

"Some days are diamonds.  Some days are stones.  Some times the hard times won't leave me alone."

If you're old enough to recognize these lyrics, you'll know they are from a song written by storyteller and songwriter, John Denver.

And for some reason, I woke up today with this song in my head.

I find that each day I awaken is a crapshoot in terms of my emotions.  I've been encouraged that this is normal.  That I'm a mere five months away from a life-changing event in my life.  That I should cut myself some slack.

But I'm a "pick-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps-and-get-on-with-it" kind of girl.  So I'm not so good in the "cutting myself some slack" department.

I woke up this morning, early, not by choice, but decided to use the time to sit quietly before the Lord.

He was silent.

Or maybe I wasn't.

It's most likely the latter than the former.

I awakened with a heavy heart for no particular reason.  Perhaps I dreamed dreams that bore a weight only my spirit perceived.  Even His Word, normally quite comforting, seemed like print on a page. And though it said, "the joy comes with the morning," I felt no sense of that; only a deep longing for the truth of it.

Then my morning beckoned me (and by "my morning" I mean two singing four year olds who had awakened at 4:30a.m. and never fully gone back to sleep), so I closed my Bible, sighed heavily, and headed upstairs to quieten the "morning" before it awakened my husband who worked most of the night.

I confess, I was quite frustrated as I walked up the stairs to their room.  Was there no peace to be found this morning?  And then I opened their door.

And the whitest eyes grinned at me in the darkness.  And the sweetest voices said, "Good Morning, Mommy."

All that to say, funny thing about the Lord.  Sometimes he uses what we see in the darkness to bring light to our troubled minds.  I love that about him.  He's a "teachable moment" kind of guy.

"And though the sorrows will last for the night, His joy comes in the morning." - Psalm 30:5

What Else is There to Do?

I haven't blogged about this in a while.  Honestly, because I was gun shy from some hate-filled responses I got.  But the purpose of this blog is to live my life out loud, in a real, transparent, and authentic way that  hopefully connects with you, helps you, challenges you, makes you laugh or shake your head.

I lost my job in August.  And by "lost it" I mean I was let go, fired, canned, dismissed.  I don't want or need to make it prettier or uglier than it is.  It's just a harsh reality.

I would disclose the reasons to you, but in all honesty, I don't fully know or understand the reasons, nor is this about the reasons.  I'm not trying to say someone is or isn't to blame.  I'm not trying to say I am or am not to blame.

That's not the point of this post.

The point is that though I am 3 months down the road, doing something I LOVE to do, making more money than I ever thought possible working part-time from home (and Starbucks . . . and McDonald's . . . they have free wi-fi, aren't crowded and their coffee is cheaper!)  Anyway, I digress.  I LOVE what I am doing, making great money doing it, am home with the girls except for 2.5 hours, 2 mornings a week.  Even though my outside circumstances are not remotely bleak . . .

I still struggle.  I have days that the grief and loss that I feel wash over me like a tidal wave.  I struggle to speak, to interact in a decent way with my family, to function.

I miss little things and big things.  I miss my work.  It was life-giving.  I miss helping people get connected to their calling, to community.

I miss prayer days.

I miss interacting with my co-workers that I have done life with, some for 5 years.

I miss the security guards.  They're such great people and have taught me so much about how the world perceives Christians.

From what I understand, these feelings of loss and grief are normal, and I can expect them to be like this for a long, long time.

So what do I do with these grief waves that threaten to tow me under on some days?

There is only one thing I can do.  I run to Jesus.  I run to His Word.

Proverbs 12:25 says, "Anxiety in a man's heart weighs it down, but a good word makes it glad."  I find the most incredible comfort in the Word, the Bible.  God's holy and spoken word to us.  It speaks peace and comfort over me and gives my soul rest.

All that to say, I find comfort today in this from Psalm 33, "By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, and by the breath of His mouth all their host.  He lays up the deeps in storehouses.  Let all the earth fear the Lord; Let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him.  For He spoke, and it was done.  He commanded, and it stood fast."  God's got it. And even if I don't understand, he's still in control.  Totally in control.  And I can trust this He is for me and for my good.

All That to Say: He's Got It; He's Got Me

When my boys were younger, we took them to Disney World.  They were old enough to enjoy it and really take it all in (and also remember the trip!) but still young enough to appreciate fun things like chasing down characters for photo ops. 

There was this one ride, though, that was terrifying.  Truly terrifying.  It was called Alien Encounter,

 

and was Disney's one deviation from its otherwise "child friendly" environment.

 

It was an interactive "experience" ride about a space alien who escaped and terrorized those of us "visiting" the holding capsule where he was being held.  There was an initial shock, when we realized pretty quickly something was wrong, followed by anticipation of the fallout, followed by pure fear, and finally the perceived end.

But just when we thought the ride was over, the terror of it started over.  I was screaming "it's not real, it's not real, it's not real" to the kid on one side of me who was screaming in terror.  And I was squeezing the heck out of the leg of the other kid who wasn't making a sound.  All the while telling myself that it was almost over.  It was a grueling experience, to say the least.

That ride is how I have felt of late.  When I lost my job, there was an initial shock, the shock where I realized pretty quickly that something was really wrong.  That was quickly followed by the thoughts of all that would be drastically affected by the change.  Followed by pure fear . . . (yes, I know I should have been completely trusting in Jesus, but I wasn't.  I was afraid.  I was uncertain. I was in shock.  I was hurting.  I most assuredly was not trusting.  I was trying, but I wasn't trusting.)

And finally, I turned a corner.  I met with a friend who helped me really ask myself what I wanted to do with my life moving forward.  He helped me think through what my family needed, what I was good at, and what I believed God wanted me to do.  I started my own business, which at its core is  primarily a content management company, (we write stuff for people) but also provides marketing and design services. It is just doing incredibly well (that's actually an understatement), and I am amazed every day to see how rapidly it is growing.

I started to see God's hand in all of this.  I realized that God knew I was going to lose my job.  It wasn't a surprise to Him.  He didn't look over one day and say, "Whoa!  Totally didn't see that coming!"  I began to feel a sense of peace.  A sense of purpose returned.  The world stopped spinning madly out of control.  I could breathe.

But just like that ride at Disney, this present interactive  life "experience ride" is grueling.  From what I understand, it is grief.  I am processing what has been lost, which is much.  And while I am incredibly grateful for all that God is doing, I still some days find myself grieving.

It is on days like this that I find the greatest comfort in scripture.  Psalm 32:7 says, "You are my hiding place; You preserve me from trouble; You surround me with songs of deliverance."

All that to say, it is incredibly comforting to know that even when I feel overwhelmed or sad or troubled, God's got it, and He's got me.

All That to Say: A Strange Peace in the Midst of Surrender

Some months ago I heard a message about predestination (I'm a Christ Follower and I've provided a link if this is a new term for you), and I have to say that for the very first time it struck me in a profound way, a way that totally jacked up my prayer life.

I asked a lot of questions of my Pastor following that message; questions like, "So basically, God already knows every person who will either accept or reject His Son, Jesus.  Correct?"   His answer: Yes.  "God not only knows, but He has ORDAINED who will accept or reject His Son, Jesus.  Correct?"  His answer:  Yes.  "There's nothing I can say or do, or another person can say or do, that will cause someone to accept or reject Jesus, correct?"  Answer:  Yes.

"Then why does it matter if I tell someone about Jesus or not?" Answer: "Because God tells us to."

So the part that jacked up my prayer life was, "why should I pray if it is already figured out?!"

Prior to this message, I had a very rich prayer life, filled with lots of dialogue about pretty much everything.  And it went from that to nothing.  Because I suddenly felt like I didn't know how to pray, or worse yet that my prayers didn't matter.  And I have to confess to you that I didn't pray at all, for months. . . And then I lost my job.  Talk about a dialogue opener.

Over the course of the last few weeks since I left, I have noticed something about my prayers.  Most of my prayers were me trying to tell God how to be God.  I was constantly telling Him how I thought things should happen, how I thought they should have gone down, how I wanted things to change, what I needed, what He should do . . .  in short, I wanted to be in control.

And then I was struck with this thought; what if I just released my need to control and instead just focused on the majesty, the authority, the awesomeness of God?  What if I just surrendered to the idea that His plan was good and for my good, and quit trying to give Him a better plan?  What if I just worshiped Him, rejoicing each day in what He was doing in my life, what He was giving and what He was taking away?"

That's not to say that I don't still share my struggles, my hurts, my hopes and my fears with Him.  It's just that I'm not telling God what I think He should do.  I do still wake up most mornings asking, "Why?"  But the answer has quickly become, "Because this is what God has for my life.  This was His plan, and that's the only answer to "why?" that I need to remember."

All that to say, I'm sure that this will be a work in progress.  I'm a control freak.  But I have a strange peace in this place of surrender.  There's a lot of freedom in giving up control, which sounds like an oxymoron, but it's deep truth.