Waiting

How many of you are waiting on something?

Maybe you are waiting on a job, like we are.  Maybe you are waiting on getting pregnant.  Waiting on an adoption to go through.  Waiting on a call from your doctor.  Waiting for your boyfriend to propose. Waiting to hear back from that school/program/organization you're hoping to get into.  Waiting on your order at Chipotle.  (Hey, it counts!)

Chances are, there are several out there who are waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from God about something that will epically change your life, for better or for worse.  My husband has been unemployed for over two months now, and this is not the first time God has made us wait and wonder as to what His plan may hold.  Still, patience continues to be a quality that I'm constantly in need of.

About five years ago, we were waiting for another reason.  We were trying to get pregnant.  We had been extraordinarily deliberate in our plan to have a baby, seeking the counsel of others personally and professionally to help us in the decision to jump into the murky and unknown waters of "trying".

Months went by, and I was still not pregnant.  There had never been any fertility issue on either side of our family, so when we first jumped into the ring we naively supposed we'd be making grand announcements within the first few months.  And, so, we began down an emotional roller coaster that kept us on our toes two-weeks-at-a-time.

In effort for my husband to truly grasp the emotional toll that this process was taking on me, I remember making an analogy for him.  Not getting pregnant, for me, is like unsuccessfully job hunting for a man. It's like, every time I see a pregnant woman out there, I think "Why HER?"  Clearly, I'm qualified for the position!  I'm perfect for it, I have all the experience and credentials I need.  And every time I'm not pregnant it's like someone rejecting you for a job you're overqualified for.

I can remember a conversation with a close confidant about 9 months into our journey.  I remember telling her how, when we'd first began to try to get pregnant, this would have been the month we had a baby.  It was weird.  I ached and longed to hold my own child, so it felt like there was no reason at all for God to have delayed the gratification.  I remember this person telling me "But, just think, when you finally do get pregnant, it will all make sense.  You'll look back and think 'Ah!  This is why God made us wait!'"

Now, I know that there are readers out there who are experiencing infertility, even waiting, who are currently in the midst of devastation.  I know that my story can seem like nothing compared to others who go through years and years of trials and hardships - so, I am in NO way trying to say that I know how that feels.  I don't.

But, when you are in the midst of it - when I was crying out to God on my bathroom floor after getting my period each month, when I was weeping and cursing and questioning "Why not me? Why not now?"...all there is is either "baby" or "no baby"...there's no timeframe or logic or end in sight.  So, all that to say, the year it took us to get pregnant felt like an eternity to me.

The year came to an end, and my first "fertility" appointment got changed to a "pre-natal" appointment. And even after I gave birth to a perfectly gorgeous baby 9 months later...I still had no idea why God made us wait.  I still wondered why in the world I couldn't have just surpassed all that pain and ended up with my gorgeous baby the year before?  What difference did it make, God, really?

Well...fast-forward to today, and here's one difference:  My husband has spent the last few months getting rejected by jobs he's overqualified for.  And I know just how he feels.

I can't tell you all the reasons God had for the way it all rolled out.  I can't tell you how many lives it altered or how much we really grew as humans or as spouses through that journey.  Some things are simply immeasurable.

But, I can tell you that now I know what it feels like to be married to someone who feels understood because of a time that God brought us through together.  I can tell you that there is a reason (probably many) for the waiting - and that it is not in vain.

Growth is rarely comfortable.  Change is almost never convenient.  But, dependance on God, no matter how long it takes, is always, always productive.  It's not that I have-to-believe-this-cause-I-have-no-other-choice.  My life is a testament to His follow-through!  He is faithful to answer and be with us no matter what the answer is.

You are not alone in your waiting, friends.  And your waiting is not wasted.

Wait on!

Full Plate

Ever feel like your plate is getting a little crowded?  Then, right at that moment someone offers you seconds?  Then, right as you turn them down, someone else hands you dessert?  And just as you're about to drop everything, your toddler throws her sippy-cup at your head???

What? Doesn't your home look like this?

Yeah, sounds about right for this week.

This transitional season of chaos has my family feeling anything but normal.  My husband is job-hunting, I'm diving head first into grad school, and our two toddler daughters are screaming at us all day long to go play outside in the summer heat and 1000% humidity (that's not a typo - seriously - the humidity is maybe more like a million percent here).  Whew.

My daughters are three-and-a-half (you understand why that HALF  must be attached) and two-years-old.  When one of them isn't tackling the other down with a "hug" (hugs look very similar to violent wrestling moves around here) then their each climbing up some new apparatus they've constructed from pillows and dolls and most likely some rather wobbly form of furniture.  Most of these activities end in one of them hitting her head and both of them crying and my husband and I wondering how our life together ever got THIS LOUD!?

Toddlers are tense.  Toddlers are insane and irrational.  Toddlers don't care that you aren't fulfilling your life calling or too busy trying not to already-get-behind-on-homework the first week of class.  Toddlers think the world has come to a brutal and completely unalterable demise if it takes more than ten seconds for Netflix to connect.  Toddlers can not be predicted.

Basically, my daughters are the bosses I always hated embodied in the cutest and most desirable forms of humankind that I couldn't possibly love more.  They are walking paradoxes.

If I listed all the emotions that my toddlers put me through on paper, it would become glaringly obvious that this "relationship" is one of complete and total dysfunction.  It doesn't make sense to love them as much as I do.  It is completely unreasonable to continue to give of myself to that degree over and over and over again and without expectation of some guarantee in return.  It couldn't possibly be healthy for me to situate myself to be challenged so often in such a confined space for such a long time.

And yet, here I am.

Perhaps you might think (if you are grossly cynical) that I'm just saying all this because the reality is that I have no way out.  I had these children.  Indeed, I contributed willingly and significantly to the creation of them!

But, you'd be wrong.

I choose my children every day.
(Sometimes I also choose to yell at Netflix.)

I didn't walk into parenthood completely blindfolded - we all know there are challenges that come with acceptance in a position of this magnitude.  But, no matter what child you get, there are going to be surprises.  The amazing thing is, most of these surprises come in the form of revealing who you really are and finding out what you're made of.

Sometimes I drop the full plate.  Sometimes I make a huge mess and have to cry about it as I clean it all up.  Sometimes I have to ask for help and let other people hold my drink for me.  Sometimes I have to say "That's enough.  I'm full."

But, sometimes.  I close my eyes and feel the weight of the plate in my hands, the imbalance, the risk of it all, and I'm reminded that this is the STUFF that makes up a truly rich life.  It doesn't make sense to want such a loud and imperfect life.  It's a mess.

And I'll choose it all again tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DOUBLE BONUS
SNEAK PEEK! 

Have you entered the Share & Care Contest yet??  Did you know you can enter up to THREE times a day??  Here is a peek at a couple more items I'm throwing into the fabulous PARDYMAMA CARE PACKAGE!


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Jesus Calling a devotional that has daily nuggets of insight into "Enjoying Peace in His Presence".  If you're "not the devotional type" - then this is the book for you.  Many times, this book has started my day off right or encouraged me unexpectedly.  Some days, I will pick it up and read the page for the day and find that it hits so close to home I'm curious if someone hasn't been spying on me!  It's a delightfully encouraging read, and I think it will brighten your day too!

Jobless and Hopeful pt. 1

“We will never move without a job in place.”  I spoke these words about this time last year, as the seeds of the idea of moving to Nashville started to take root in our hearts.  I was confident and honest, and I felt completely rationale in the definitive boundary I had placed between reality and fantasy.

It was realistic, after all, that my husband could get a good job within a reasonable timeframe.  He has his Masters degree and glowing recommendations and he was in a prestigious position at the time, working as a Director of Admissions and Marketing at a local Christian high school.  He was making enough to support our little family, and we had excellent health benefits to boot.  It was more than we could hope for, living in one of the expense-ville capitals of America: Orange County, California.

Ahh, the illusion of "security"

I don’t say this to brag in any way – we were still living paycheck-to-paycheck like most of our peer group does these days; but we were “secure” and “comfortable” enough to not worry about making rent each month.  I also say all this to set up a clear picture of where this all started, and properly introduce the path we were about to take…the path less taken, so to speak.

It was around last December when the Lord truly started to place on our hearts a steady momentum towards looking at Nashville.  Following a series of significant conversations, I had begun to look into MFT (Marriage & Family Therapy) programs offered in the Nashville area.  Upon my finding a perfect fit at Lipscomb University (more on this in future posts) I began the arduous application process and it was our first major step towards placing actual potential on this dream of moving across country.

As my application process proceeded, Josh began to put out feelers for jobs and opportunities in the Nashville area.  A few promising leads, including a job interview that even flew him out there for a meeting, gave us reason to believe it would not be too long until something came through and all our proverbial ducks were in a nice, neat row.

We prayed for a job.  We prayed for God’s will.  We prayed for God’s best for us.  And job after job began to pass through our fingers.  Rejection hurts.  And I couldn't understand how someone could "pass" on my husband!? 

My husband with the charm of a winsome politician and the credentials of a noble scholar!??  Sure, I’m biased.  But, this is a swell guy, people!  Someone who works hard and loves well.  And frankly, someone you want on your team.  I was sad for each rejection.  I was frustrated on his behalf.  And, I was quickly moving from “defensive wife” to “pissed-off human” as I lost hope in our country’s workforce. 

I got accepted into school, and we celebrated.  My husband, always encouraged by the “win” for Team Pardy, was wholeheartedly pleased at the success of our (and I really mean “our”) application into grad school.  All of this was a Team Pardy effort.  There was not going to be any option for "my successes" versus "his losses".  Marriage doesn’t work like that.  Correction – marriage can’t work like that.  There was only “OUR” successes and losses.  We celebrate together just as we mourn together, and we continue to commit to this every single day.

School would start at the end of August, so that gave us roughly four months to get a job for Josh, get ourselves to Nashville, and settle into a new home before my program started.  In that order.  Right, God?  Work, move, home, school.  Yes, that makes the most sense. 

And this is when God smiled.  And this is when I started to worry.  

Choosing to quit a job that paid well and provided health insurance seemed unfathomable a few months ago.  In an economy where the unemployment rate high as a kite and the cost of moving is limitless, it was impossible to consider a scenario where we would abandon the security of comfort for any imaginable reason.

But, then again, Jesus was never one to work within the man-made boundaries of reason or rationale.  God doesn’t always adhere to our measurement of “how things should work”, let alone abide by the calendar we keep. 

So, then, as job possibilities came and went, Josh and I became very accustomed to the notion that our usual “sensibilities” of how things were “supposed to go” needed to be reexamined.  It just didn’t make sense for him not to get some of these jobs he was applying for.  It didn’t makes sense…except for the fact that we had been praying according to God’s will, for Him to provide the best for our lives.  Evidently, none of those paths were the right one. 

As hard as it was to swallow, the truth of the bitter rejections was that somehow, we were dodging bullets.  Though we might never know why they weren’t the best fit for us, we could only conclude that it was better to be grateful for what was to come rather than dwell on the disappointment of the present.

Still, the clock was ticking.  Certain things had to be in place, and so we started to look into housing and moving options.  We couldn’t wait on a job forever.  We had to recognize that God’s promise for us was to provide for our needs…that didn’t necessarily mean it came with the security of a regular paycheck, like it or not.  This is what you call a leap of faith.  This is what you call obedience.  And you’re right – it doesn’t make much sense in this world.

As you may have read in previous posts, we found an apartment within two miraculous days.  Multiple miracles were quick to follow as the plans of our move fit into place like the border of a giant puzzle.  We weren’t exactly sure what the resulting picture would look like, but the parameters were set and all we could do was keep filling in the missing pieces as the information came to us.  All we could do was trust and obey.  God was moving us to Nashville.  God was moving us to Nashville…without a job.  The words I had spoken just about a year ago were coming back to haunt me.  

Never say never, indeed.