My prayer for a new job

Dear God,

Thanks for everything you’ve given me so far. You’ve blessed me so much. Thank you for blessing me with my marriage to Joel. He brings me so much joy and I love being married. Thank you for my friends, and our families, and our little house.

Thank you for loving us and giving your Son Jesus to save us and giving us your Holy Spirit to guide us. Thank you that I can serve you by serving others in my job. I feel so lucky – so blessed – to be where I am and have the life I have. And it’s all from you, and I want it to be all for you.

God, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I’m after a new job.

See, I’ve been doing my current job for a while. I’ve been working hard at it, supporting people in complex situations, and taking care of myself so I don’t burn out. I know you led me to it and I know you’ve given me qualities and skills to thrive in this work. But one of the things that helps me through is knowing that I won’t have to do it forever, because there’s another job I want more.

This is different to the last time I wanted a new job, because there were steps I could take then: meet with mentors, apply for a position, resign and start somewhere new. This one is frustrating because there are no steps I can take, no application process, no brave new ventures outside my comfort zone. And yet it’s a job I want so much:

Mother.

God, you know how much I ache for this. I know you know this because you saw me trying not to cry in church the other day. Another month of disappointment, and a sermon about mothers and fathers, and hearing people ask the mothers-to-be about their pregnancies. And yet I was also singing your praises because I know you are good and you only give love. And I know you’ve got a plan.

But I’m starting to worry that maybe it’s not a very good plan. So I just want to share my thoughts and feelings with you.

That day in church I was coming back to what I always come back to: maybe we’re infertile.

And God, you know that I’ve never taken this stuff for granted. You know I’ve always been aware that some of the bad stuff in the world may well happen to me, because it has to happen to someone, and I’m not invincible. It’s almost a kind of paranoia crossed with anticipatory realism. Remember how when I was younger, I always assumed that I would be raped someday? Joel was so sad when he heard that. I’m sure you were pretty sad that I thought that too. But really I was just mentally preparing myself for some bad things to happen.

I also didn’t assume I would get married. I wanted to, so much, but I didn’t think it would necessarily happen. The likelihood of being in my thirties (which in those days seemed like the beginning of middle age) and unpartnered – I knew and accepted this. Kind of.

And when we got married, I knew we wouldn’t necessarily have kids. Some couples struggle with infertility, temporarily or for a lifetime, and we might be among them. Remember how I used to joke about it before we started trying? Because we’d been using natural family planning to avoid conception for two years at that point, so I joked that either it works, or we’re infertile and we don’t know it yet! (Ha ha, very funny.)

So it’s not that I feel entitled, like I have a God-given right to motherhood. (Although I have felt that way at times.) You don’t give rights – you give gifts.

But, really, I think it would be a mistake to not give me the gift of motherhood.

Here is where, if this were a job application, I would tell you what a hard worker I’ll be. I’m prepared to start from the lowest position, God. You can give me a difficult pregnancy – that’s okay. You can give me the nausea and the pain and the swelling. I’ll take all of that in my stride and I’ll also eat as well as I can and exercise gently and sing to the baby every day, just some simple tunes while she* learns her mother’s voice. I’ve always wanted to try that trick of reading the same Dr Seuss book to the baby every day before birth and then using it after birth to calm her down or prepare her for sleep. And I’ll do my best to breastfeed her, cracked nipples and all. And then I want to teach her well, Lord, not just with a formal education (though I’ve got stacks of homeschooling eBooks already, how did that happen?) but also teaching her about you and about love and grace and truth and justice and mercy and service and generosity and family and herself. I want to teach her by living it with her.

And your daughters** have taught me so much to prepare me for motherhood, God. They are beautiful examples of strong, tenderhearted women who love their children well and who are also honest about how hard it is. I don’t feel that I have romantic illusions of perfect motherhood. Instead, I’ve learned that motherhood is cleaning up poo and vomit and Lego, it’s wrestling with toy packaging, it’s sleep deprivation, it’s trying to respond calmly rather than yell, it’s costly, it’s hard on a marriage, it’s heartache when kids make bad choices, it’s monotonous and mundane, it’s the stretching of love and patience to cover a multitude of things. But your daughters have taught me well about that too: I’ve learned that I can do hard things, and I can be a little bit kinder and braver every time I do them. And they will be the first to remind me that I’ve got you to help me, and a sisterhood of women wanting to support me too.

Source: momastery.com via Momastery on Pinterest

I’ll even do the really hard jobs, God, if that’s what you’ve got planned for me. I’m sure no one chooses to have a disabled or sick child, but then they can always choose to love that child, and I would make that choice to love, God. I cried reading about Kelle and Nella and Kate and Gavin, and it looks so hard God, but it looks like love, brutal and beautiful, every-day-for-a-lifetime love, and that’s what I want.

The problem is, I know you’re not impressed by all of my lofty promises of hard work, all my great ideas, and my careful use of words that are easy to say but that even I don’t understand, like love and grace and truth. You’ve never really wanted me to earn my way to you, or to strive hard for a gift from you. You’re all about love, that kind of love to surpasses all understanding, even as I use the word a zillion times.

And I know you love me. You love me because I’m your child and you made me.

That’s what I was thinking about in church the other day, God. You made me. So you know that my heart loves to love - intimately and personally and over the long-term, like the wife that I am, like the mother I want to be. You know that I’m good at nurturing a few close relationships, like in a family. You know that I love to impart respect and value and worth to all people, including infants. You know that I care deeply about justice for the poor and oppressed, and giving generously, and questioning the mainstream, and following Jesus into the messy work of the kingdom, and that I struggle to put these things into words for adults, but in raising children I could share all these things and more.

You know all I’ve learned about parenting, through my work and my experiences and my reading, and while it’s great that I can share some of this with parents in my job, I also want a child of my own to put it all into practice. I can teach parents to love and discipline, but at the end of the day I have to let go of the babies in my arms, and leave it to them to do it their way with their children.

And I’m terrified that – because I’ve learned all of this, and because I love to share it and I long to live it - you’ve got a plan for me to do it for every child except my own. I know we’ve talked about foster parenting, God, and I want to do it someday, and I said I’ll do it even if I don’t have any children of my own. But surely you know as well as I do, God, that it would break. my. heart. every time a child leaves my care again, if I can’t also give love to my own children.

And then there’s that song that used to inspire me, God, but which now terrifies me too:

Alone with a lifetime, Africa called
She went for the first time, it grew in her heart
All of the children, so many children
Now Esther has 2.4 million children
She writes us and asks us to pray for them all …
“Do anything you can to help, oh please help
There’s so much to do and I’m just Esther”

- Esther by Sara Groves

I can’t do that, God. My heart is for loving a few deeply and personally, not a million practically. Yes, I do care about the millions of children – you know that I do, Lord, and I’d sponsor children endlessly if I could. And yes, I care so much about the children from unsafe homes who need foster parents – why else would I do the work I do? I am passionate about these issues and one day I hope to transfer that to being passionate about individuals, to the specific children in my care or needing my help.

But my heart is breaking at not having a child of my own. I want so much to cuddle a newborn and tickle a toddler and find a shared activity with a teenager. Yet I don’t have one. Not even a zygote.

It’s the job we celebrate at this time of year, and it’s the gift of love that I yearn for most: motherhood. So I’m asking you: please, please let your plan for my life include motherhood.

Source: aholyexperience.com via Ann on Pinterest

And if your answer is no, I’ll still praise you, because I know you only give love. But God, I want it to be yes so much. Please.

Amen.

* Or he, of course
** Among them: Sara Groves, Sarah Bessey, Megan Tietz, Glennon Melton, Ann Voskamp, Tsh Oxenreider, Jen Hatmaker, and many of the writers at (in)courage.

Who do I want to be? (Part 1: Personality)

I’m having sobering thoughts about who I am and who I want to be. Sobering because the two don’t match.

I want to be someone who is disciplined, who has a routine in the morning and a routine in the evening, who eats well most of the time, who overcomes inertia to do important things like exercising and checking in with friends, who has goals and works towards them.

I’m not that.

I’m spontaneous. And by spontaneous, I don’t mean exciting and fun. I mean I do what I feel like. When I come home, I’ll go for a walk if I feel like it. When Joel asks me, “What do you want to do tonight?” I usually list a few options and then say something vague like, “We’ll see how we go,” or, “I’m not sure, I’ll see how I feel after dinner”.

I know this, but I’ve always thought I just didn’t have enough routines in my life. If I had a routine, I would stick to it. Right? And yet when I’ve tried routines, I only followed them when I felt like it.

There are these great comics by INFJoe about what it’s like to be the Myers-Briggs INFJ personality type. (Some of my favourites: Thank you, Extroverts Who Understand and My Gushing, INFJ, Fe Heart). A while ago he was reflecting on the differences between him and his wife, who is an INFP:

INFJ Decisions and INFP Options by INFJoe. Used with permission.

This bugged me when I saw it a few months ago. Because I’m also indecisive.

I have trouble picking where to go for dinner when we’re out. There’s so much to weigh up in each decision. Decisions are hard work. So I usually default – to somewhere we’ve been before, or to staying home.

I was indecisive as a child, especially regarding food. Mum loves to ply people with good food they’ll enjoy, so she would offer me many breakfast options. Cereal? Toasted sandwich? Grilled cheese on toast? Last night’s leftover chocolate pudding? (Yes, really.) I would take forever to decide (unless the dessert was offered, then yum yes please), and then would usually change my mind anyway. I was fussy, so I wanted lots of options, but I was also paralysed by them.

So when I saw this comic, I thought, But wait – keeping options open is an INFP thing, right? And I’m an INFJ. So even though I’m indecisive, I don’t actually like my options being left open. I’m still an INFJ.

And happy about it. Proud of being the rarest type. Pleased to find myself in the descriptions of INFJs. Better able to understand why I have difficulty making friends. I don’t want to find out that I’m actually another type.

But I think I’m maybe just getting confused about what the difference is between Judgers and Perceivers in Myers-Briggs. I was reading this description of the differences for work yesterday. I can relate to this mother’s Judging child: he hates being late, he likes having a plan, he likes closure. I can also relate to her Perceiving child: she can’t decide between breakfast choices, she wants “just one more minute” to finish what she’s doing, she’s spontaneous.

The reason I always pegged myself as a Judger, not a Perceiver, is because I like organisation. Even if I’m not always organised, I like when I am. I like keeping things tidy. I like knowing what will happen next. I don’t like being late (though sometimes I am because I want “just one more minute” to watch The Lizzie Bennet Diaries).

Maybe I’ve answered my own fears in this regard: I am a Judger because I like being organised and I don’t like keeping my options open. Some of my qualities, like indecisiveness and spontaneity, make me look like a Perceiver. (This probably means I’m near the middle of the spectrum.) But I’m a Judger at heart.

Is this just the worst of both worlds, though? I’ve got a Judging mind, and yet my spontaneous behaviour, which I seem unable to change, gets in the way. How do I use my Judging mind as a strength, to be the organised, decisive, disciplined Judger I want to be?

I think I’ve begun to answer my own question. To be continued.

Do you struggle to understand your own personality? Does it sometimes clash with the person you want to be?

What I’m into, April 2013

Oh, April, you flew by in a bit of a blur! Here’s what I’ve been into. This time I’m linking up with Leigh Kramer - that’s what all the cool kids seem to be doing, and I’m newly subscribed to her because she is pretty awesome.

On the screens:

Phones count as screens, right? My hubby and I have switched phones so that I’m currently using the smartphone (an Android). This means I’ve downloaded a bunch of apps and started using them, such as Twitter (@EstherJoybelle - but I’m not doing much there), Instagram (estherjoybelle), and Snapseed. Still haven’t really tried Evernote though.

Favourite Instagram pic for April:

My friend Heidi made me these cute edible cars when I got my full driver’s licence. They’re made of Tiny Teddies, Lifesavers, Tim Tams, Smarties, and citrus Tic Tacs.

Favourite Snapseed pic for April:

Joel and I enjoying the Blue Mountains scenery – we went there for my cousin’s wedding.

Back to TV screens: My holiday to South Australia was a great opportunity to catch up on Friends, this time seasons 4 and 5. (The relationships! Las Vegas! The excitement!) Not that, you know, I really need much helping in ‘catching up’ – I manage to find the time regardless. Like last night, when I started watching season 6.

At a friend’s advice, I’ve started watching New Girl from the beginning. I quite like Jess. I identify so much with her silliness and her awkwardness and her craziness. Good thing I’ve got a cute housemate (i.e. husband) to put up with me.

The Time Traveller’s Wife was better than I expected after hearing a scathing review ages ago. Now I’ve picked up a second-hand copy of the book as well – though I don’t suspect I’ll get around to it in quite some time.

Also, just backtracking to March for a second – I had forgotten last month that I saw Stardust, which was also a pleasant surprise. I really loved that film! Claire Danes is breathtaking, and there was enough romance and intrigue to keep me very well-entertained, and a perfect ending to give me happy feelings.

From my shelf:

I picked up Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov second-hand. Don’t think me too crazy, but I’ve been wanting to read this for a while because I found the concept fascinating as well as disturbing. So I read it, finally. And … well … I found it initially engaging, and as I expected, fascinating. The main character isn’t as deplorable as I expected, at least at the start. But large sections of the book really dragged and in the last third of the book I had no idea where it was going, and neither the main character nor Lolita were likable. I’m glad to be done with it.

I read Evolving in Monkey Town (as mentioned the other day) cover to cover in a day. Rachel Held Evans writes so well and the doubts she spoke about are similar to some that I struggle with. And yet she’s worlds away from me – American evangelical culture is so different to anything I’ve ever experienced. Sometimes when I read what bloggers like Rachel and Sarah Bessey write about their Christian upbringings, it sounds like another religion altogether to the conservative-yet-grace-filled Christianity I grew up with. Anyway, I highly recommend this book.

I’ve started Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller and French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano. Both good so far. (I share this because I feel sad that I read so few books in a month. I buy and borrow many more than I read.)

I also got these beauties delivered to me this week:

From left to right: Glennon Doyle Melton’s Carry On, Warrior; Shauna Niequist’s Bread and Wine; Kathy Escobar’s Down We Go.

I love bloggers and their books. And eBooks. A little too much, perhaps, because I find it difficult to keep up with them all (I’m the kind of person who has to Read All The Posts in my reader). My favourite new(ly subscribed) blogs are Hopeful Leigh, Storyline, Momastery, and Sarah Wilson (she’s putting consumerism and food industry debates in an Australian context for me – just what I was wanting about a year ago!).

In my ears:

I mentioned most of these the other day in a music edition of counting gifts. My newest (though not her newest) Sara Groves album, Fireflies and Songs, is getting a stellar workout in my car, at home, and on my iPod. What Wondrous Love Is This and The Call are also current favourites.

See, I don’t really listen to radio (except when my brain is disengaged in the car, so I’m usually not paying attention). Radio stations in my city don’t play the kind of music I like (hint: mainly singer-songwriters, mainly Christian artists) so I tend to stick to what I own.

I checked out Pandora a while ago but it wasn’t available in Australia. Now its website no longer tells me that. And everyone is talking about Spotify. Are these sites worth it? Is there a catch?

With my body:

Ahhh … yeah … you might have read I was trying to do 10,000 steps every day on my holidays, until I wore myself out. Then my pedometer broke. Umm … nuff said.

I may not get to 10,000 steps, but I am trying to go for a walk after work some days to unwind. My job involves a lot of sitting: at my desk, in the car, at clients’ houses, so sometimes I just feel restless by the time I get home. I’m trying to do something useful with that restlessness rather than just squashing it with a big dinner.

At the piano:

After yet more appreciation of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, I pulled out the Jane Austen collection and tried a couple of tunes from Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility (1995 versions). I can’t pretend I’ve practiced enough to do them justice though.

And …

(in)RL conference. So good. The idea, the topic, the webcasts, the stories, the women I spent it with, the sharing and vulnerability, the insights, and especially this:

I’m definitely in need of some benches.

What were you into in April?