The Perfect Job?

Among my current assignments are resting, writing and quite importantly, HAVING FUN. Apparently having fun has much more spiritual value than I have ever thought to consider. So in the process of such, I am exploring and asking myself to what end I should labor.

Months ago, I read this quote in an airport and it has quite stuck to my heart:

"Let each man pass his days in that endeavor wherein his gift is greatest." Prospectus

Which begs the question, WHERE is my gift greatest? And aren't gifts meant to be enjoyed? Is it dreadfully selfish to want to do something I enjoy for the rest of my life? Certainly it is right and good to enjoy yourself sometimes and on this side of eternity, there will be trouble...but overall, is it even possible?

Just in case, I want to draft my ideal occupation. It may change tomorrow, or maybe this evening. Yet even as I write this, I am torn, almost in agony that in the end, I will have to do something I hate or very frightening, futilely dreaming such ideas. Or that I am so unaware of "wherein my gift is greatest" that my dreaming is birthed from the heart of a silly girl that will have to grow up.

Oh, so a draft (why does this feel so committal?) starts like this. I have regular interaction with people in an organic kind of way. This could consist of having multiple work-out partners, an assistant to help with cleaning/cooking, I'd really like a housekeeper friend or a person or two who live with my husband and I for a season, clients whom I make cakes for, clubs I belong to and so on. These people are not in categories per se, such as: person I'm serving, person my friend, person I'm learning from, etc. These labels are not always so helpful. Ministry happens in the course of life happening. Learning happens. Mentoring happens. People who have camped out in climbing the mountain of the Lord are healed and energized to take His hand and keeping walking. Hospitality is a way of living. Tea and bread and fancy dinners and salads for lunch with occasional visitors for the week. Time to be alone is as necessary as water, not only time alone, but time for stillness. Time for reading stories, time for writing and time for puppy cuddling :-) Energy to keep my husband well fed and welcomed home to a clean and peaceful house. It all sounds quite romantic and almost wonderful...but I remember.

I remember a heart that beat with passion when Jesus was loved well by people. I remember a heart of agony over people who were hurt and compelling compassion that sustained the sacrifice that filled the reserves and hopes of others. I remember a little girl who prayed that she would not "settle in the land of mediocrity" when she grew up, a little girl who envisioned herself serving orphans, a little girl who did not shrink in the thought of adversity but swelled up in love and passion to meet it.

A few months ago, just for a moment, I felt a wind and it's blow was of passion. My quick reply was an energetic claim that I didn't want to spend my life hiding in my kitchen but to be blown in such wind of passion. When the wind was gone and the stillness came, I found myself happy to stay home, happy in that very kitchen.

For several days, I've felt a sense of mourning, a sense that I lost something valuable and don't know where to find it. I've lost my license too. Isn't it illegal to drive without one? Yet daily I do. It seems fitting. I've lost something else too and like my license, I have no idea where to find it. When I pray about it, I feel like I'll find it when I need it...but isn't it illegal to drive without one?

Someone recently told me to do what I see myself doing in my dreams. Seriously? Do you KNOW what I dream about? In my dreams, I am doing quite heroic things, going where others fear to tread, dodging evil - oh how often I have run down the stairs to escape evil - flying (this is a recent trend), singing songs of the Lord, escaping a modern day Holocaust, teaching others, jumping out of windows, getting on planes and knowing that I'll stay when others return...oh things that I dream in the night seem in the day as far from my heart as China from the moon with only a boat to travel on!

It's only February. I have a whole year to get some clarity and maybe a wind of passion. Maybe in the end, it won't be terrible. My hope comes from an old story of escapees caught between an ocean and an army with no escape. God tells them to be still. That he'll fight for them. That they'll never never see those enemies again. He tells them to BE STILL. I have a whole year. A whole year.

When You Can't Shake It

I have this feeling that something is wrong but I'm trying to be hopeful. However it seems more appropriate to be hopeful in the face of a painful reality instead of a anxious unknown. Oh my heart, peace be still, for He longs that you not be anxious for anything. I think I may know something in 8 days. Until then, I shall "silver box" this feeling; I trust it to you Daddy and shall leave it with you until you reveal whatever reality you have given me grace to carry. I trust you.

Oh Imaginations!

(Deep sigh) Oh my imaginations! They are strong uninhabited things you know and while I know they are meant to lift my sights and spirit, it is true that sometimes they cause more sting than they seem to make up for. It is the lapse between the dirty carpet I walk on and the sparkling clean, thoughtfully decorated almost palace of my imagination that causes such sting. I can ... well, right now, sigh, it does not seem to matter than it is beautiful and fascinating and deeply welcoming in my mind's eye while there is a pile of unmatched socks and clothes to be folded and put away staring me in the face.

Today I am imagining, even in a more humble house, a housekeeper; sweet girl of eighteen or twenty, needing a job and place to stay. She lives with us all the time and puts in her set, boundaried hours (it would not do to have her work all the time, simply would not do at all), doing the things that delight me but that I do not as regularly find the energy for. Oh, what a delightful idea! Yes, she may be a college student that we know in need of provision. And as a side note, I have decided to sometimes pray for provision instead of praying for a job, because, well, why not! I am romantically convinced that there is an inheritance for me, floating around out there, waiting for the perfect time to reveal itself, an inheritance which I shall steward in the fear and joy of the Lord, mostly in and unto Joy.

But back to our housekeeper, oh, what a delightful idea! So, she (and I'm pretty sure it must be a "she") would have her own lovely room and bathroom too if possible. I would not go in her room unless invited, it would really be her own space to find sanctuary in. The whole idea must be a provision for her and hopefully for her delight as well. She would work a set number of hours, just as she would with any job. We would pay her quite well, certainly better than a coffee shop or day care or other college type job. We would consider the cost of her food, rent and utilities and she would work how ever many hours unto those costs and any other work she would be paid out. In today's market, I think $12-$15 an hour would be generous but time shall tell. Only it would not do if in her heart, she considered working for her room and board to be shameful or beneath her. And this is the trouble; I'm afraid most that I know would consider it just that! The other trouble is wondering how I would ever find peace with myself to let someone else do such for me. What if, for example, one day I felt particularly possessed to stay in bed and write, drinking coffee and eating sweets, while said housekeeper is working? Would I feel terribly guilty? Oh and the girl she would have to be to live with us!

So in my imagination, she is sweet and kind, thoughtful and thorough. She must not begrudge me my sensibilities and strange thoughts but we shall both give freedom to each other to live as we sense best. It could be possible that we should be friends, if such was convenient to each one. I would have to trust her a great deal and I suppose we would have a trial period first to see if we should suit one another. Only it must, must, must not be a drudgery to her.

Yesterday I read the fourth chapter of Luke's good book. In it, the gravest enemy tempts the Great Hero, weakened by hunger, with riches, authority and splendor among other things. The Great Hero denies the temptations and goes onto his mission with power. It is later that the Great Hero is given all that he was untimely offered and more than the enemy even possessed to offer. Such story has always spoken to me about the proper timing. The Great Hero's mission would have been poisoned, thwarted and destiny destroyed by taking the offers of his enemy. In resisting, he went without these things for a time but in the end was given all and greater.

Jesus, comfort my longing soul as I wait for your timing. I don't believe in the slightest that you despise my imaginations and maybe my very romantic idea was even birthed in your heart towards me. Come and strengthen me, lest I give way in my impatience.

Wearied In Vain

Yesterday I was particularly weary, maybe not in a physical sense, but particularly weary in my soul. As the day began with such low emotional capacity, I sat for a while trying to find some motivation or energy but instead a picture came to mind, and grew more detailed and delightful, of being invited to spend the day in a royal bed, sleeping and resting. Ah, just in writing it down, my soul and even my tensed shoulders, relax a degree. The bed was an iron canopy with fluffiness for a mattress and blanket and all was white. I can see it now, dreamy as it was, though a day after a weary labor, it seems more like the dream that I fell out of and now wish to return to.

I have heard that if you build against the blue print, you build in vain. Certainly I understand that today, where hindsight is clear and discerning. Not that anyone would have discouraged my "good" labor yesterday, being productive in the lowest sense of the word...ah, but it was labor that only further wearied my soul and today I awoke feeling utterly spent and frazzled without even the comfort of having labored to an intended purpose. I am sorry. How can it be made right today?

There is a mercy that is made new as the new day is born and here I am asking for it. Mercy that forgives and gives even a double portion, that does more than make up for the dept I incurred in the day lost. It is possible to receive more than just to "catch up." I am deeply in debt and I need an extra portion today. And I know Who gives extra portions. I'm glad to know him.

GIving In

Anne Shirley has recently reminded me to love my imagination and I appreciate her, fictional as she is, for her contribution. My imagination doesn't require the maintenance of my real house, or at least, not quite so much. The supposed law of entropy does.not.apply in my imagination. Not that I despise housework, I actually love being the clean and cook and manage the house housewife...my energy is just not always up to the demands :-) I live mostly in a castle, sometimes a cabin in the woods - always where the land is beautiful and I am in white...and usually in a dress. Femininity is not so difficult to achieve there, at least my hair is not quite so prone to frizz and hard to manage tendencies! Somehow the havens of my imagination strengthens me and thus far I live more in the real day in and day out to worry about losing my way home out of imagination and into the meat and potatoes of a real day. Maybe all this is why I'm learning to love cake making, it brings the femininity of my imagination into the reality of necessary celebrations. Yes, cakes. Sweet and unnecessary for the substance of life but quite necessary for the enjoyment of such!