Numbskull (Jobless & Hopeful) pt. 3

Throughout this process of waiting on a job, I have wanted to kill my husband many times.  It’s fine, really, because he’s wanted to kill me too, and usually this ends with us taking a giant sigh and sending one of us out the door to relax a bit.  It’s amazing what even a drive alone can do for one’s patience.

The Village Chapel, our new church home

Unemployment is like the unplanned vacation to nowhere that you never wanted to take.  In your mind, you think "Hey, maybe a little time off would be nice" and you have visions of utilizing time in between job applications to read or bake or start one of those many Pinterest projects you've been pondering.  But, it's not like that at all.  

While my husband is the one actually filling out the applications (since I'll be a full-time student in less than a month, I've only applied to part-time work), never-you-mind that this is fully a TEAM Pardy effort.  We scrutinize his resume together, we pray over emails and cover letters that are sent, and we strategize as much as possible to get his foot in the door somewhere.  It's been said that looking for a full-time job is a full-time job, and that's no joke.

But, the reality is, that we’re just not used to living in each others’ presence all the time and so, the precious moments that make up “alone time” become imperative to our survival (and happiness).  We also want to continue actually liking each other – something we both consider rather high on the list of priorities in our marriage.  ;)

So, while there have been waves of tension ebbing and flowing as the job search continues, humor and honesty have become even more essential ingredients to our sustainability than ever before.

A few times over the last couple months, we’ve been frustrated and dumbstruck at our own lack of faith.  Yes, we are here – having obediently trusted God as He has moved us across the country.  Yes, we are here with food on our table and a roof over our head.  And yet, we take turns (well, sometimes at the same time) getting angry at our situation – at how could God possibly be making us STILL wait on a job to come through!?  How, God, how?  Argh!!

You gotta love a good Jesus meme

And, then, in a moment of refreshment or humor, we laugh at our ridiculousness.  One night, we just shook our heads at ourselves saying, “We are JUST like the Israelites.  We are so dumb.  Like, gee, God, I know you’ve given us food to eat up out of the GROUND and all, and you’ve provided for our every need up until now – but, what about tomorrow???? We are grumpy and annoying, and very, very forgetful.”  It’s strange how relieving the reminder of our stupidity is to me, but it calms me in realizing just how OUT of control of the situation I am.  And there is much freedom in not being the one in charge.

Never did this feeling hit home more than last Sunday when we were sitting in church.  We are so grateful for having a church to sink our teeth into immediately upon our arrival to a new home – one of the many benefits of having family in town (who also attend there).  I’ll cut to the chase and just give you part of the Scripture that Pastor Jim Thomas at The Village Chapel spoke on that day:

Mark 8: 16 – 2116. They [the disciples] began to discuss with one another the fact that they had no bread.  17. And Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you discuss the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet see or understand? Do you have a hardened heart?  18. Having eyes, do you not see?  Having ears, do you not hear?  And do you not remember, 19. when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces you picked up?”  They said to Him, “Twelve.” 20. “When I broke the seven for the four thousand, how many large baskets full of broken pieces did you pick up?”  And they said to Him, “Seven.” 21. And He was saying to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

Josh and I looked at each other as the Scripture was being read.  We gazed at the words again and slowly I leaned over, shaking my head and whispered, “We are so dumb.”  He just pursed his lips and nodded, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

We read this passage in times of “security” and goff at the stupidity and forgetfulness of the disciples.  Um, hellloooo? You guys JUST witnessed Jesus feeding thousands of mouths from practically nothing.  Do you seriously think He won’t provide for you numbskulls?

How many times do I need to be hit over the head with this one, God?  Well, apparently many, many times.  My humanity gets the best of me far too many times than I would like to admit.  I bitterly find myself praying for urgent provision as I climb into my comfortable bed at night.  Um, what an idiot.  Like my prayers are a little post-it note for Jesus to not forget us on His busy schedule up in heaven or something.  Good grief.

I have had less money before.  I have had plenty of money before.  I have been given incredibly generous gifts before.  I have been able to give incredible gifts before.  I have suffered.  I have celebrated.  And yet…I will still sit and worry and become frustrated with God whether He is really going to come through on this promise.  Reeeeally?  I’m no better than those numbskull disciples with short-term memory loss.

My own life history is a clear reflection of God’s faithfulness.  But, when that’s not enough, there are plenty of examples God has provided for us in His Word to knock us upside the head when we need it.  I’ll leave you with a classic Scripture, one that is probably familiar to many of you, yet never truer to my heart than now.

Philippians 4: 11b-13 [Important to note that Paul wrote this while he was in PRISON, nonetheless…]
“…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13. I can do all this through him [Jesus] who gives me strength.

Nonsense! (Jobless & Hopeful) pt. 2

Choosing to quit a steady job is difficult and strange, especially when you don’t know what is next.  It had been a long process of prayers and contemplation as we took the official step of Josh quitting his job, planning our move across country, and not having a job lined up for us when we got there.  

I’m sure if you think about this for a minute, you have many of the same questions I had.  It’s funny, because as your loved ones watch you take this step of faith, they also begin to worry that you’ve lost your mind – something I also took into consideration!  People tiptoe around reminding you that you have children to provide for, bills to pay, and no guarantees for the future…as if these are things that you haven’t pined over in the middle of the night, tearfully pleading with Jesus for a neon sign to show you the answer. 

Just a couple angry toddlers here.

Questions and worries plague us as normal human beings, as parents, and as a couple that hopes for things like “a house with a yard” someday, let alone how to afford rent and health insurance on no income.  Trust me, whatever it is you are questioning, I have thought of it, I have worried about it profusely, I have taken it into account…and so has Jesus.  (But, thank you for the concern.)

The thing is, when it comes to obedience, I could either choose to trust Jesus or not.  Bottom line.  We do everything we can within our limited power to take opportunities and make the best of them, while constantly and prayerfully handing them over to God for His guidance and direction. 

And, you know what, somehow, some way, we are here in Nashville with full bellies and a roof over our head and clothes on our bodies.  We are alive and will give God the glory.  If that’s not a testament to His provision, I don’t know what is.  

Daily.  Daily, I am reminded that today was another day God provided.  DAILY.  Thank you, Jesus.

But, it is not easy to praise Jesus when He doesn’t give you what you want when you want it.  If you don’t agree with that, then you are probably lying.  (I’m just saying!)  I can act just like my toddlers throwing a tantrum for a toy in the middle of Target that I won’t buy for them.  I want to scream and pout and kick things, I’m so angry.  I want to demand reconsideration for what I think I DESERVE.  I huff and I puff, and I crumble into a messy fit of confusion.  And I always end with the same frustration:  it doesn’t make sense.

And then I cry out to Jesus.  And then I see His face.  And then I feel His arms.  And then I’m reminded of what a bloodsucking, bratty little sinner I am…and how I should get kicked to the curb and forgotten about and instead, here I am, getting comforted by the reality of a God who has given me so much, and I’m split open by the brutal irony of His love for me in one realization: IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

It doesn’t have to make sense to me.  Living faithfully, living obediently, doesn’t come with the stamped regularity of a direct-deposit check into my bank account.  There’s nothing wrong with making a steady income – that’s a good thing and I look forward to it again!  

But, there’s something very wrong with hanging my hat on it.  There’s something ridiculous about placing my security in my efforts or the abilities of my husband, or even in the trust of the next employer who reads my husband’s resume.  

God is in charge.  God has not forgotten us.  God will bring a job in His time, for His purpose.  God will continue to provide.  And we will continue to bring our messy selves to His feet and be reminded of His non-sensical love and provision for us. 

More on this nonsense tomorrow!

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.

Rx: Humility

Take a dose of humility and call me in the morning

The next two weeks after my klutzy-yet-dramatic fall down the stairs were sheer misery.  Evidently, I had been taking things such as sitting, standing, laying down, walking, and bending down completely for granted.  I had bruised my lower back/hip so deeply that the ugly colors of a usual bruise didn't even surface until about 9 days after my fall.  Crazy!  I didn't even know you could bruise yourself like that?!


It didn't help that I have this weird quirk in my physiological make-up that renders pain killers nearly useless.  I don't know what makes me that way, but my mother is the same way, so there must be something in our gene pool (I'm guessing X-Men related) that makes it so the usual dose has no effect on my pain.  I tried to explain this to multiple ER doctors in between my screams, but (as I've encountered in the past) most physicians think I am just faking it or overly dramatic, or wanting extra drugs.  Whatever, it's real.  Just ask the OB-GYN who nearly started in on my c-section before I objected with an "UM, I CAN FEEL THAT!" yelp to his very surprised "Really?!"expression.  True story.

All that to say, the pain killers helped me sleep, but that's about it.  My nerves were having to relearn how to function in my back muscles, so a constant Charley-horse contraction of muscle spasms kept me shrieking throughout the day and night.  It was so frustrating for me and completely annoying to everyone else, I know.  I understand it's no fun being around someone who is repeatedly wincing and grimacing and needing to have you please get her another blanket or drink or remote or pillow or whatever.  I hated being incapacitated.  Hated.

As brutal as my pain was, though, my husband was suffering as well (my words, not his).  He took on full-time super-Dad duty, as well as waiting on me hand and foot.  He is not a complainer by nature, but I could tell it was all taking its toll on him.  How couldn't it?  We were both beyond frustrated.  Here we were, new home, new city, new everything...and I'm couch-ridden for two weeks (and for how long, we didn't know at the time.)

A cozy companion while I was couch-ridden

The thing with healing a muscle is (as I learned) that you can't heal a muscle by sitting still.  After a few days, the only way the muscle will start to heal is if you use it.  This meant a whole lot of pain and determination on my part, and I was grateful that my stubborn streak could finally be used for good and not evil!  Slowly, slowly, after a couple weeks of wincing at nearly any movement, I started to be able to move without pain.  It was such a weird sensation to feel changes day-to-day in my healing.

It's been almost 4 weeks now, and I'm practically fully recovered.  I still have a bruise and stiffness, and it will be a while before I touch my toes again...but, I can walk and drive and even pick my girls up. Hallelujah!  If you met me today, you'd never know I was completely debilitated a matter of weeks ago.  GOD HEALS.  Also, God made our bodies HEALABLE.  That's crazy.

I'm learning a LOT of things through these challenging first weeks of our move here.  In the wee hours of the morning, when I was weary from the frustrations of the day and propped up by pillows to sleep sitting up (which I did for over two weeks) I would just pray and nag God with my discontent and desires.  These are the moments I'm not trying at all.  I'm not trying to be kind or cool or even myself.  I'm just there, whispering gratitude that's mottled with complaints.  No apprehension or pretense.  Just Emily and Jesus, in the stillness.

I do stupid things ALL THE TIME with no intention or effort behind them at all.  I had no reason for falling down the stairs - it was just one of those freak accidents that suddenly changed the course of our lives for a short while.  My actions have repercussions.  Sometimes I see them and they effect me deeply.  Sometimes they go completely unnoticed.  But, they matter, and I matter, and Jesus sees them and uses them and no matter what - we are healable beings in His eyes, regardless of our stupid actions.

I don't need to DO anything for Him to heal me or use me.  I want to control life so badly - which is ironic, because when I do try and take the reigns, I'm so bad at it!  I'm not in control here.  I can't be. I don't truly even want to be.  And when I'm stopped (albeit, against my will) and literally left helpless in order to regain perspective on who exactly has the reigns in this here life of mine, I can't deny the experience.

Needing help is humbling.  It's uncomfortable for most of us, and that's just ridiculous, because when I pause for a minute and take a step back, I realize that I constantly live in a state of needing help.  How can something be so uncomfortable if I'm in a constant state of it?  Constant.  I'm never going to not need Jesus.  Do you hear that?  Do you feel that?

Pain killers come and go.  Nerves reattach.  Muscles regrow.  Miraculous healing is present in my very being, my actual person, and yet - this world offers my soul no hope for completion.  Only Jesus fills the constant void I have for trying.  Trying anything.  Trying at all.  

Only.  Jesus.

So, if there's a few morals to this story at the end of it all (or is this just the beginning, sometimes I lose track?) I'd say this:  We all have wounds that need healing.  Sometimes these wounds are ugly right away, and sometimes they take a long time to surface.  Sometimes no one even sees them.  But, they can be healed.  We are healable beings, inside and out.

Watch your step, you might be closer to healing than you ever thought possible.