Heart of the Matter

The more I know, the less I understand
And all the things I thought I figured out, I have to learn again
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my heart is so shattered
But I think it's about forgiveness

~ India Arie’s “The Heart of the Matter”

I’ve watched friend after friend (writing friends who are also writing teachers, adjuncts) thrown away by their educational institutions in callous and even shocking ways. I’ve felt blessed to continue receiving enough classes to make ends meet (by enough, I mean overloads, as many classes as I could find). Unfortunately, I’ve discovered this semester that my time of overflowing classes is at an end. I haven’t been thrown away like some stories I’ve heard, but I’ve been told in no uncertain terms from the various institutions that I work for that I can no longer have overloads, no matter what (partly because of lower enrollment and partly so that they don't have to pay adjuncts health insurance).

Even with working at more than one institution, this change necessitates changes in our living situation.

Another change in our life has overshadowed everything for the past year: Lexi going off to college. I haven’t written about it because I’m not ready, but the bottom line is this: I am thrilled for Lexi to have the opportunity to live and study in NYC. Yes, I realize that it is a normal and natural cycle of life for her to go off to college and move on with her life, and I support her and let her fly. However, it has changed everything for me and for Laina. It’s like someone came into our home and sucked out a huge chunk of life and energy and who we were. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, and we are still reeling from it and working to adjust.

Furthermore, I am rethinking my career path. I’ve taught for over twenty years and have loved it. I’ve taught people from all over the world and people of all ages. I have a high standard in my classroom, which means that I challenge my students to see, learn, and be more. Not all of them like that. In fact, nowadays most of them hate that.

Recent feedback from a student (printed with permission): “I am almost ashamed to admit that this exercise has left me feeling maudlin.  There are actual tears in my eyes.  I feel like I have wasted so much of my life with unimportant work and petty concerns when what I should have been doing is writing.  I am mortified by my own lack of discipline and I can only hope that it is not too late for me to accomplish something I can be proud to say I have done.  This semester has been the most fulfilling bit of education in my life, despite the fact that I already have an AA degree.  My attitude has always been never to let school get in the way of my education because ninety-nine percent of the drivel I sat through in college felt like remedial classes for high school.  I just seemed to reap more from independently reading on my own.  At first, I found this class daunting.  You want a lot of time and effort from your students, much more than most instructors at this institution.  I am sure that does not sit well with some of your pupils, but I appreciate it greatly.  Thank you.“

Words and students like this make teaching so worthwhile. The thought of giving up teaching breaks my heart; however, the whole climate has changed for educators, even for college instructors, and I have been looking for full-time work for five years now.

Moreover, my high standard also means tons of work for me. This semester alone I have read over one thousand pages of student essays and many more pages of simple assignments along the way (both online and on paper). All of that reading and helping students with their writing interferes with my own writing and creativity. This past month (while in NYC and away from the computer, away from a screen, for most of two weeks), I realized just how much strain my eyes and brain have been under. The crux: I am exhausted and need a real break while I reevaluate and decide where to go from here.

Furthermore, my dad has recently gone on hospice. Again, not something that I am ready to write about because I still have so much processing to do. But, I want to spend time with him and be there for family right now.

Coming to Florida was definitely the right thing five years ago. We have met so many amazing people here and been blessed in so many ways. We have healed and grown and learned so much here, and we have had so many incredible opportunities.

 

Florida 2014

Florida 2009

I am deeply grateful for the friendships and support that we have found here. Words cannot express how much you all mean to me and how you have blessed our hearts and lives with your kindness and love.

I’ve prayed for clarity and answers, and I’ve written hundreds of pages of journal entries the past few months as I sorted out options and the pros and cons of everything. As I processed it all, a few simple truths emerged.

Truth #1: Something has to change.

Truth #2: If I only do the same thing/ask for the same thing (piecing together a living), then I’ll just keep getting the same thing.

Truth #3: I am exhausted from piecing together a living.

Truth #4: We miss family.

I don’t have the answers yet, but I do have the beginnings of a plan. We are packing up this month and going to Missouri to be with my family for the holidays and a couple of months while I finish sorting things out. Transitions are hard, but this is still part of the whole divorce transition. I learned in Divorce Recovery that it generally takes five years after the divorce is officially final to be completely settled again. It’s been three years for me, and I know I’ve come a long way in those three years and am excited to see where the next couple of years take me.

Going through all of this (the divorce, the move away from everyone we knew, the fresh start, the longing for family, my dad’s illness and prognosis, etc.) has taught me so much about the kindness of others and the importance of forgiveness, of letting go. I’ll never forget words that my dad spoke to me over twenty years ago, when I was the one in college. He said, “When it comes down to it, all you’ve got it is your family.” Right now, that is the “heart of the matter,” and I am happy that Laina will have a chance, even for a few months, to be rooted in family, rooted on land that has been in our family for over a hundred years. Nothing can replace a foundation like that.

This is a bittersweet moment as we plan to leave friends who have become family here to go stay with family we have missed there. I don’t know where we will be by summer; we may settle into life in Missouri or return to life in Florida or even begin again some place new. Either way, I am ready for the next adventure.



Newton Ulysses Crawford, the First

On April 5, 1918, Woodrow Wilson was president, and nations around the globe were locked in the campaigns and battles of the First World War.  On that calm spring day in a log cabin on a Missouri farm deep in the Ozark Mountains, a blessed baby boy was delivered into the world by a country doctor who arrived on horse and buggy. Born to Bessie and Homer, Newton Ulysses Crawford, the first child and only son, would see 96 years, some 35,000 days of family, laughter, love. So much change, yet he always approached life as an adventure, even throughout the three wars that he served as a Naval Officer—he was a true war hero who fought with honor in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam.

His father, Homer, was born in an alfalfa field in 1894. His parents worked on the land as farmers except for one year when they lived in town to work in the Brown Shoe factory after it opened. Homer and Bessie had two more children, daughters Dortha and Juanita, and the siblings always got along.

Newton farmed, fished, hunted, and explored the 320 acres of forests, fields, hills, river bottoms, and bluffs. Mostly, he worked with his relatives, plowing fields and hauling hay. In his spare time, he walked to school, starting school at four years because he “fussed and fussed” until they let him and making it through two years of high school. He loved going to school, and recess was his favorite part. His mom sent box lunches with peanut butter and jelly on homemade bread and fruit from the orchard on their property. He walked to school, crossing a swinging bridge over Possum Creek.

He didn’t have shoes and went barefoot most of the time, though wore lace-up boots in the winter. He often walked ten miles back and forth to town. They did not have electricity until after he left home, so he did not grow up listening to music on the radio or watching television. He carried in wood every night for the fire. He said that they normally had cornbread, beans and milk at night and oatmeal on eggs for breakfast while lunch was chicken, squirrel, quail, or pork. They sometimes ate opossum or frog legs. They grew or raised everything they ate except for sugar, salt, and pepper.

On Sunday mornings, he went to church with his family, and afternoons he played games like baseball, horseshoes, jacks, dominoes, and cards. Sometimes, they flew kites, made mud pies, or went roller skating or sledding. They often met for picnics, potlucks, or family reunions.

When he turned 16, his grandpa bought him a tractor to keep him home, safe on the farm for a few more years. But Newton joined the Navy and served for 30 years, traveling the world, surviving three wars, making the highest ranking as a Naval Officer, CWOW4 or Chief Warrant Officer W-4.

Everywhere he went, Newton planted a garden, if he could, and told stories of his gardens in exotic places during his years in the Navy.

Retiring from the military, he spent 30 years as a cattle farmer on his family farm where he lived in a white house built by Crawford hands many years before. Two careers, two lifetimes.

He married his childhood friend, Juanita Allen, the girl from just down the road, on September 30, 1944 at the preacher’s house in Houston. He said about his wife, “she’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw!!  She was really pretty!” Married for 61 years, always together until her death in 2006.

His only son, Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. was born on March 1, 1948 in California. Newton, Sr. said, “Newtie was always laughing and having fun.  He liked to have a bath and play in the water.” 

Newton Jr. returned to the family farm with his own family. Another white house that had been built by Crawford hands moved, driven down the roads to the hill, placed next to its match. From one son, 10 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren, including Newton Ulysses Crawford III and twenty years later, Newton Ulysses Crawford IV. Newton the First also had a decade plus of being the grandpa next door. We remember playing rook, watching movies, eating holiday meals...every family event, he stood strong and tall; his presence always there, steady, soothing. Most of the time, he wore his three-time war veteran hat, blue jeans, a blue button down work shirt, and brown cowboy boots.

His sun-spotted hands built houses, a family, a farm. Like his mother, Bessie, he lived into his nineties, driving his own car, and living in his own house until the very end. Change, war, loss, laughter, love—through it all he remained kind, with good humor and an optimistic spirit.

The man and the land leave a significant legacy. An honor to his generation, he will be missed. From him, how much we learned. Thank you, Dad, Grandpa, Great-Grandpa, Newton the First, for showing us the value of family, hard work, a positive attitude, and kindheartedness. For displaying the importance of keeping a garden, raising our own food, and taking care of our land. For teaching us to explore the world and live as an adventurer. You will live on in our hearts and minds from a million treasured memories. We love you.

Smart Fun

"Wobble"

          I’ve taught my daughters to have smart fun (at least I hope so!). Case in point: Lexi’s sweet 16 birthday party. Over 50 people attended her party, which was held at a friend’s house in a sleepy neighborhood along a golf course in Suntree, and the teens called it the best party of the year with some saying it was the best party they’d ever been to. They danced, talked, ate, and played games all evening. No drugs, no alcohol, and no smoking. Just good, clean fun! The DJ, Lexi’s dance instructor, was also a police officer, so the party had built-in protection.
          As one of the few adult chaperones, I watched everyone and discovered an interesting phenomenon: many of the public high school students who came to the party (Lexi’s friends from dance) didn’t appear to enjoy the party as much as everyone else for two reasons that I could see. First, they were way too self-conscious, too worried about what everyone else would think and how everyone else might judge them. Not that the homeschooled teens didn’t have doubts, but that they felt comfortable or confident enough to push through those doubts and enjoy the evening. Secondly, many of public school teens arrived partnered up. They brought their boyfriends, and then sat in the corner on their boyfriends’ laps, watching everyone else have fun.
          An important life lesson: you don’t need to have a boyfriend/girlfriend in order to go to a party and have a good time. In fact, you might have more fun going with friends and letting loose.
          This particular party ended at midnight, and just before the witching hour, a cop knocked on the door to make sure that all was well. Luckily, we had the DJ/cop angle to smooth things over, and we were ending the party anyway so everything worked out. It’s not a party until someone calls the cops, the teens joked, but they learned that if you are having clean fun and if you respect those around you, nothing bad happens when the cop shows up.

When we moved to Brevard County over four years ago, Lexi was a homeschooled teenager, and I didn’t want her to miss out on the social aspects of high school like the school dances. So, I worked with another mom, and we put together some homeschool dances. Again, 50 teens, dancing, talking, eating, playing games, having so much fun! Once we had a DJ (same wonderful one) and other times we used a playlist. Whatever we did, the teens had a blast. Lexi began attending the public high school dances for her junior and senior years, and she agrees with the others who said that the dances we threw were much better; however, she is glad that she attended the public school dances for the experience. After all, we never forget our prom nights.

Lexi just told me last night that I would be happy to hear that she stayed in and didn’t go out with her friends. Darling daughter, you missed the entire point of smart fun. I want you to go out with friends, to explore the city, to travel the world. I want you to be adventurous and try new things. Always.

A couple of years ago, I didn’t feel like the girls and I were communicating well regarding hanging out with friends; they thought that I didn’t want them to go out with friends, and I thought that they were being disrespectful. I believed this was an extremely important issue to communicate with them because the friends we choose colors everything else in our lives. So another life lesson: choose good friends! Be very picky about who you hang out with. As the saying goes, we become like the five people we hang out with the most. And, I like how a family friend puts it: YOU are valuable, and the most treasured thing that you have to give is YOU and your time. So, choose wisely. As a mom, I worry, and as a mom in this crazy world, I really worry, and as a single mom, I worry even more. So, I typed up a “contract” that we all agreed on and printed off copies for each of us. Here it is:

Going out with Friends Respectful Boundaries

1.     I WANT you to have time with friends, to hang out with friends, to have fun with friends.

2.    I TRUST you!!! You are amazing, and you will make good choices. Any mistakes you make you will learn from.

3.    It is imperative that you COMMUNICATE with me in a respectful way. Be polite and respectful in your tone and text messages. Please ask before inviting friends over here and before making plans with friends (check the family calendar, etc.). Text me who you are with and where you are because that helps me to not worry. Be home by midnight unless we have agreed on an earlier or later time for some reason.

4.    It is important that FAMILY comes first, including YOU. That means that you do your homework and chores, your RESPONSIBILITIES, BEFORE hanging out with friends. That also means that you incorporate FAMILY time every week or weekend. This is also about having BALANCE in your life.

5.    RESPECT yourself and your own boundaries. Be YOU because you are BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING, INTELLIGENT, TALENTED, and simply WONDERFUL!!

Now I want to reiterate another important life lesson for my daughters: have fun in a smart way! In fact, I review the smart rules with them anytime I drop them off somewhere (county fair, mall, beach, party, etc.), and yes, I also share these rules with their friends. Now that Lexi is going to college in New York City, I review them with her over the phone. If she calls and asks my input, “Mom, should I go out and do X?” Hell, yeah! And, remember the smart rules.

1. Have good, clean fun (which means nothing illegal; for instance, no alcohol, drugs, or smoking). Once you turn 21, enjoy a glass of wine or a bottle of beer if you like, but don’t get wasted. Confession time: I’ve never been drunk. Tipsy, yes. Plastered, no. It’s interesting because anytime any group of friends hears that the first thing they say is that they want to get me drunk (and this includes any church groups I’ve been part of). Even as an adult, I’ve been pressured to give in and get bombed, but you know what, I don’t need to. I honestly believe that I can have fun, a better time even, when sober. Sure, I enjoy having a drink every once in a while; it’s relaxing and lowers inhibitions, but I still know who I am, what I believe, what I am doing, and why I am doing it. Plus, I won’t be the one sick and hung over the next morning, wasting that fresh day.

 2. Stay safe (which means to only go places with friends you can trust, always stay with your group, don’t even go to the bathroom alone, never take drinks from anyone, and never set your drink down unattended and then drink out of it).

3. Stay healthy (which means to take care of yourself on a regular basis, get enough sleep on a weekly basis, eat healthy overall, take good vitamins, etc.). The important thing is what you do most of the time; set a strong foundation for yourself and your world.

4. Always remember who you are and what you believe in. I am a woman of worth and strength and integrity. Say it! Remind yourself every day. When you operate from that truth, then you will try new things and live a courageous and incredible life; however, you will not be swayed by peer pressure or societal expectations or anything other than the truth that you stand on. Along with that comes trusting your instincts.

But whatever you do, be bold, live, and have smart fun! As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Life must be lived and curiosity kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn [her] back on life.”

A friend mentioned that I should share the “smart fun” idea with others through my blog, hence this post. J Do you do something similar with your teens or have other similar ideas that work well? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Chasing Moonlight

Chasing Moonlight

On the drive home from practice tonight,

the heavy, yellow moon floats,

low and full,

inviting.
 

Caught, we pull over,

stop in the parking lot of our condo complex;

stumbling over rocks and dips in the green grass,

we walk to the lake and search for the moon

past the water fountain,

over the trees,

around the buildings,

through Laina’s tired grumblings.

No moon.

 

Hide and seek.

Catch me if you can.

Go straight, I command,

walking through the field,

the moon…

My foot slides on a slippery, dark object.

I scream.

The girls run so fast to the safety of the parking lot

and artificial lights—

Laina on the concrete, laughing and moaning;

Lexi doubled over with laughter;

I stagger in between laughs and squeals,

hunting always for danger,

until I, too, reach safety.

Drawing deep breaths in between lingering giggles,

we race to the car and pile in.

What did I step on?

“Mom, it’s a snake,” Laina declares. Lexi agrees.

It was flat. Slippery and flat. And it moved.

We ponder the dark possibilities.

I want to see…

“I wanna go home,” Laina wails. “I’m exhausted and sore.”

“I’m game if we stop for shakes,” Lexi adds.

The image of the moon beckons

like a journey too long denied.

Determined to capture a photo of the beauty,

we embark on our own adventure:

chasing moonlight.

 

Down roads,

around houses,

through neighborhoods,

we drive,

capturing glimpses of the round moon.

 

Who else do you know who chases the moon?

“Just you."

My mom would.

I roll down the window;

at another peep of the moon,

I let loose a long howl.

The moon peeks,

creamy and cold;

the moon winks;

brilliant and bright.

We park at a friend’s place near a golf course,

snap photographs

over the alligator infested river

through the light fog, and

the moon sparkles

luminous and low,

so low we reach out and grab hold

of moonlight,

of promise and hope and

of all things lovely and new and good.
 

Feel the Money, Part Three: Pay it Forward

          For some reason, this is the most difficult blog entry of this series to write. Partly because I have been in a funk (a creative word for being depressed), which means that I don’t want to write and I don’t want to expend any extra energy, and partly because I have been so busy. But mostly because everything that happened, everything that I want to express, is still swirling in my mind like an untamed wind.

For the past month, I have watched and waited for the moment when I felt led to give the cash provided by the church, praying for the right person at the right time in the right place. On the one hand, I know that it could have been anyone one at any time in any place; however, I wanted the giving to matter.

          In the meantime, a lot has happened.

To begin with, someone from our church helped us. One Sunday night after we had arrived home from Momentum, extra cash magically appeared in our workbook. I was surprised yet grateful. Because I wanted my giving to matter, I decided that this giving had to matter as well; therefore, I put half of it towards the $1000 emergency fund that Dave Ramsey says is the first step. It felt good to have a little bit of a buffer—safer and more secure having even a small amount of savings. We used the other half for groceries.

At the same time, I wanted to honor the gift that person had chosen to offer us: the gift of consideration and kindness and the spirit of paying it forward. I was inspired; thus, I decided to use some of my next paycheck to help someone else. During this whole process, I’ve asked my daughters for ideas of who and when and where to help, and Laina asked over and over again for us to help a friend of hers go to the homecoming dance at high school. We had a conversation about how the dance was a want, not a need and how I felt led to use the church’s money for needs, not wants. Still, I could tell that it was important for Laina to help her friend, and we also discussed the importance of finding balance between our needs and wants. In other words, sometimes prioritizing fun. So, we all worked together. Lexi found an old (but beautiful and very nice) Dillard’s dress in her closet that she offered to give away, so we invited the friend over to try it on. The dress fit perfectly, and she looked radiant and so excited to have a lovely dress. Then, I provided the money from my own income for Laina to purchase her and her friend tickets to the dance. They were so happy for the opportunity and had a wonderful evening.

And then, Lexi went away to college in NYC, which is awesome and amazing, I know. I am very happy for Lexi and love that she is living her dream. And yet. Yet. Yet. I’m not ready to write about it, but this is the cause of the current funk and is so difficult.

On a positive note, Lexi has a “host” family in NYC who has been so kind, welcoming, and giving to her. Also, many family and friends have sent Lexi cards and notes and even gift cards and goodies since she has arrived at college, and she says that the other students remark on how often she gets packages. We are so thankful for all of you and feel so blessed!

Lexi flew to NY on a Monday, and that same week I prepared a presentation for an out of town conference for work. During those preparations, I was offered an extra, last-minute eight-week class. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity, which is definitely an answer to my prayers. Now I not only have enough to make ends meet but also have extra, and I am thankful. Still, I had to quickly prepare a new class during the same week as the conference, which was stressful to say the least.

I wonder how much connection there is between my giving to Laina’s friend and then receiving to help my girls?!

Weekend before last, I finally saw what I had been waiting for—a sign. I had just ordered a meal for myself, and behind me, I saw a woman counting out one dollar bills. It appeared as though she was worried she might not have enough, so when she ordered, I said that I wanted to pay for her meal. At first, she viewed me with disbelief, but I repeated it.

“I shouldn’t let you do that,” she said.

With her words, it struck me: receiving is hard. Often times we like the power and control of being the one to give. Just recently, a family friend said to me, “Be a good receiver, Rachel. That’s also a Christian virtue.” At the time, I brushed it aside, but now I thought, maybe he was right.

I convinced the woman that I really wanted to pay for her meal, that all I asked was for her to ‘pay it forward’ someday, and told her to order whatever she wanted. She said that what she’d already ordered was fine, but as I paid, she thanked me profusely, saying, “You’ve just made my day.” She turned to the cashier and nearly shouted, “She’s paying for my meal. Can you believe it?!” This woman was extremely grateful and that felt fantastic. As we got our meal and went our separate ways, I discovered that I was beaming. I also left a $20 tip for the waitress.

The most amazing thing was how paying it forward made me feel, and I finally got it. One woman left with a free meal while the other left with $20 cash, but I was the real winner that day because I left feeling full. In that moment and for the rest of that day, my heart felt full, my life felt full, and I felt full.

Paying it forward will be a vital part of our lives in this household: both as givers and receivers. When we receive, we not only get the help/kindness/money/stuff, but we also allow other people’s hearts and lives to become fuller. When we give, we not only have fuller hearts and lives, but we also allow others the chance for, perhaps, much needed kindness/help/money/stuff.

Paying it forward is a win-win.

Side note: The rest of the church’s cash stayed with me for another week, and last weekend, I used it to provide groceries for a single mom and her family. Without that money, they would not have had groceries for lunches this week. Again, giving not only literally helped that family, but it also filled up our hearts and lives for another week.

The FinancialPeace University class is now over. While I was too overwhelmed/down to attend the last few classes, I learned so much from the first half that I want to take the entire class again this spring and continue learning and applying this information. I am continuing to save towards a $1000 emergency fund and am still using cash to pay for gas and groceries every week rather than swiping the debit card with no thought. I practice feeling the money and am much more conscious of what I am spending and what my priorities and motivations are. Ultimately, I am beginning to change to more positive spending, saving, giving habits, and I am enjoying the process. While I am definitely not yet debt free, I have more of a sense of hope and peace regarding current money habits and future financial freedom.

Feel the Money, Part Two: “Waiting for Godot”

          It’s Sunday again, and I only have a few more hours left to pay it forward, to give the $50 to someone. During the week, I have been to the gas station, the grocery store, and even a local Walmart, but I have not found the person I am saving this money for. I stood at the cash registers, walked the aisles and parking lots, talked to those around me, but haven’t felt led to give it yet.

          Church is over, so I head to Target in Viera. I know that I am not really in the best area to find someone who needs the money more than I still do, but I have to try. I feel like I might be judged if I don’t give it away before the next meeting. The preacher recently taught the parable where the third servant hid the money in the ground rather than using it, and I feel like someone might compare me to that servant and say that I am wasting money, wasting time. Unaware that I am creating my own stress, fears and worries swamp me, and I think, maybe I shouldn’t be trusted with the money after all? All I have to do is walk up to someone and give it to them, pay for their groceries, or buy their gas.

          Lexi points out someone, and I again walk the aisles and hover near the cash registers. Nothing but families with two parents, single women holding a cup of Starbucks coffee, or men buying a few items. No one that feels right for me to give it to.

I notice that everyone, like I normally do, is moving so quickly. Rush up to the counter, pile everything on the conveyor belt, load the bags into the cart, swipe the card, rush away. I don’t see anyone using cash, and no one pauses long enough for me to smile or say hi.

          I don’t want to simply use the money and move on. I want it to mean something. I want to know that it has blessed someone. I want to feel not just the money but also the results. Is that part of the lesson?! We rush through life, swiping our life away on all of these things that we don’t always use and definitely don’t take the time to appreciate. However, when we slow down and use cash and take our time, we can connect with others as well as consider what we are buying, why we are buying it, and what it will bring us. We can live in a state of appreciation.

          When I received my deposit earlier in the week, I paid my bills and then wrote myself a check with the left over money for food and gas. I took the cash and placed it in the Dave Ramsey envelopes, and I have to say that I definitely feel the money more. In past weeks, I would have spent almost all of the money over the weekend and then been lost and even more anxious the rest of the time until the next pay day. This time, I was intensely conscious of how much cash I had left in my gas and food envelope, and I still have what I intended to save for next week, which helps me not feel so stressed and scared.

Just this week a devotional passage encouraged me to follow God’s plan, and on the radio, Chris Tomlin sang:

Where You go, I'll go

Where You stay, I'll stay

When You move, I'll move

I will follow You

Who You love, I'll love

How You serve I'll serve

If this life I lose, I will follow You

I will follow You         

I want to scream: I am here; I am listening; please show me the way. What do you want me to do, God?! Who should I give this money to? Where should I live? What job should I have? Why is my life still so far down the pit? Why do I feel like I am still stagnating in so many ways?! What do you want from me?!

Like Styx, I have questions and pray for signs:

I close my eyes and know there's peace

                                    In a world so filled with hatred

That I wake up each morning and turn on the news

                                    To find we've so far to go

                                    And I keep on hoping for a sign

So afraid I just won't know

Show me the way, show me the way

                                    Bring me tonight to the mountain

                                    And take my confusion away

                                    And show me the way 

When I arrive for the Momentum meeting this week, I am still feeling raw. I have been entrusted with money and a task, and I have failed. I feel like I am “waiting for Godot”—story of my life.

          In his two-act absurdist play, Samuel Beckett utterly describes how I have felt too many times in my life: feeling stuck, waiting for someone or something that will never come, having an inability to act for whatever reason, being sure that tomorrow will bring a better day only to have more of the same. The feeling is like having a bare thread of hope in a hopeless situation and a desolate world.

          I am glad to get through the meeting without being forced to metaphorically wear the scarlet letter and happy that I still have time to reevaluate and find the person I am meant to bless with this cash.

When I told my girls about this new adventure, Laina shared a story that her service learning teacher recently relayed about helping a man who was offering portraits for a little grocery money in the parking lot of a pizza place because he had just moved down here and started a new job and had two weeks before payday. After this man drew a portrait of the teacher’s son, they said thanks but we don’t have any cash and drove home. Once there, the son said that he wanted to give the man something, so they drove back and gave him five dollars and thirty cents, the exact amount of money to buy a pizza right then. The man started crying because he was so touched by their kindness. That’s what I want: to touch someone with kindness and begin weaving a stronger string of hope.

My uncle also told me a story about how he and his young adult siblings each received a $100 bill from their Aunt Clarice. “Spend it on something special,” she said. So he hunted and searched and waited. Nothing seemed special enough, big enough, lasting enough, so he finally stuck the bill in his Bible and waited. Decades later, he left the chaos and excitement of New York City and moved back to family and the Mid-west. A few years later, finally, he knew what to do with his $100 bill when he heard his contractor complaining about a renter, a single mother, who wasn’t paying rent. This was just before Christmas, and he was packaging up our family’s homemade apple butter to share with his neighbors. So, he added a Christmas card with the $100 bill and took it to the single mother. He knocked, handed her the gift, and returned home. Later, he received a thank you card from the woman who shared that she had used the money for a small Christmas tree and gifts for her sons.

Yes. Sometimes waiting is the right thing to do. The important part is not to make waiting a lifestyle choice. There are many times in my life when I waited for too long, but there are also times when I took action and created a change that was better. So patience is one of the lessons I am learning, and another is to trust myself to know when to wait and when to act and to not worry that others might judge my actions and/or inactions. Finally, I am remembering that God does care and has a plan and is looking out for me, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. Even if I am complaining of too much conflict in my life. Even if I would prefer that God not only give me a signed copy of the plan, but that He also allow me to write in corrections and initial changes. But I do have faith that His plan is the best for me, even if I don’t get an advanced preview of it.

Speaking of conflict, I recently read an article from the July/August 2013 issue of Poets & Writers where Dan Barden asserts that conflict equals growth. He may be talking about fictional characters, but it’s true of humans too. In “The Art of Conflict: Why Your Characters Should Struggle,” Barden states:

Here’s the deal: Everything you want from your life is the opposite of what you give to your characters. Your characters should, more or less, always be having a very bad day. Why? Because that’s how human beings grow.

…Conflict is what creates growth. Conflict is what creates character. All forward movement is a product of conflict. All meaning, in fact, is a product of conflict. [We] need to fight.

…What it’s like to be a human being: hard. Like the man says, we’re all fighting a great battle. What narrative conflict brings to the party is the possibility of growth in the face of adversity—growth because we are faced with adversity. If there were nothing more important to me than my leisure, if it didn’t want things, I’d still have the values and self-discipline of a fourth grader. Fortunately for me, the world kicks my [arse] every day…

I agree.  Life is hard, and conflict, like it or not, grows me. For now, I am waiting, “waiting for Godot,” waiting for God.

 

Feel the Money, Part One: Temptation

I signed up for Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University program with my small group; our church calls it Momentum, and Lexi and I meet with our small group on Sunday afternoons.

On our third week, we are handed a ticket as we arrive. Today the video will encourage us to “feel the money,” so after the announcements, the leaders are ready for the drawing. Out of 100 people in the room, they are handing out six envelopes filled with hard cold cash.

I had arrived feeling dejected, overstressed, anxious, and raw, but hearing about the money perked me up a bit. Maybe I will win, I think. Maybe this is God’s way of answering my prayers.

There are two purposes, we are told, for those envelopes. First of all, those lucky winners will get to experience what it is like to “feel” the money. I am so on board with that. I can feel the cash already—it’s flowing from my fingers and out to pay for gas and groceries. Then, we are told the other purpose of the money—to pay it forward and bless others. Usually I am all about that. I love helping others and seeing how what I do or give blesses them. But now, right in this moment, I am a nerve of needs, everything pressing down on me. So that’s it, I think. God’s going to give an envelope to someone in my small group and maybe, just maybe, they will choose to bless me with it.

After all, I am the only one in our group who is a single parent, and I have all of the money woes Dave Ramsey discusses in the book. For years, I have been living in crisis mode, scraping by one pay check after another, only to play catch up with any surplus semesters. I often barely make ends meet with three part-time teaching/tutoring jobs and with help from family, and the nature of adjunct work means that my income changes every few months. I often don’t know how many classes I will have or how much I will earn until after the first week or so of each semester. When I can, I snag an extra class, an overload, which is what I need to survive. For over a year, I was able to work an overload, and when I have an overload, I am teaching the same amount as a full-time instructor for half the pay and no benefits. But I love my job and have been able to make it work for four years. However, colleges are not allowing overloads for adjuncts anymore unless absolutely necessary because of the new health care guidelines, which puts me in a deficit.

Days before this Momentum meeting, I discovered that I am not getting the extra class that I thought I was getting, which really adds stress to my life. I’d thought God had provided that extra class to help me make it this semester and through the winter break when I don’t have an income for over a month, but I am back to praying, trusting Him, and not knowing how I will manage.

So this could be how God is answering my immediate prayers. I hold my breath as the first five numbers are called. Please give it to someone in my group who might help me. The last number is called, and I can’t believe it. At first, I sit there, not moving, reading and re-reading my ticket. Yep, still mine. So I stand up and accept the envelope. I feel like I’ve won the lottery in Shirley Jackson’s story where the winner is the one sacrificed. Okay, maybe it’s not that horrific, but I have a hand full of cash and a body full of stress and no way of knowing how I will make it.

As you can imagine, I’ve had a million thoughts coursing through my mind since that moment. God must have a big sense of humor because this is downright ironic.

Here I sit, the single parent of our group, with an empty gas tank and a sparsely filled fridge (not to mention that we are down to our last roll of toilet paper). For over a week, I have been sending the girls over to Publix with $3 or $5 or $10, whatever I could find, to get milk or bread or bananas, something to eat. I have been pulling together $10 or $20 per day to put gas in my old mini-van, and I only have enough left to drive to work the next day (but not enough to return home or drive the girls to their activities). The bank account is down to $7, and there’s no savings. Surely, surely God didn’t mean to give me money to give to someone else?! It’s got to be a mix up or maybe I have entered an alternate universe where everything is upside down.

After the meeting when I settle into my car, I open the envelope and see a $50 bill—perfect for my immediate gas, food, and toilet paper angst. I can sure “feel” this money burning a hole in my hand, but I don’t think that’s what Dave Ramsey meant by “feel the money”!

Behind the cash is a piece of paper that reads:

2 Corinthians 9:7 (NIV)

Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

          I laughed, bitter and humorless—seriously, God. You not only want me to give this to someone else, but you want me to do it with a cheerful heart?!  I could definitely see the irony, but I couldn’t dredge up the appropriate cheerfulness.

          As an aside: God has richly blessed me in many ways, even in the recent past, including through generous and giving people who have helped us, and I am not discounting those miracles or gifts at all. I am simply sharing all of the human emotions that accompany this adventure and sharing that I am in a dark and difficult place right now because I don’t see a way out of this pit of debt and difficulty.

          My mind swirls as idea after idea comes to me. I could use this money tonight, for example, to get some gas and food and then replace the $50 bill on Tuesday when I receive my deposit for a few hours of online tutoring. That doesn’t feel right, however, since one of the main things we are learning is to not borrow money. Plus, it just feels wrong, like I would be betraying someone—God, my church, myself—if I do it this way.

          While I start driving home, I rationalize and justify that I could definitely use the money to bless my girls. I could pay it forward to Lexi and Laina. After all, most of my income goes into providing for them, and I need gas and groceries to take care of them. Again, it doesn’t feel right. Not that it would be betraying anyone but that it wouldn’t be as big and as important as it could be. No, I don’t want to do it this way either.

          During all of this deliberation, a tiny seed sprouts and blooms in my mind, heart, and soul—God trusts me with this money. God trust me; my church trusts me, and my small group trusts me with money. I can trust myself with money.

          When I arrive home, I lock the envelope in my glove compartment and start praying, albeit a bit grudgingly, that God will show me who I should give it to. I also pray for immediate help with my troubles.

          Not long after I return home, our neighbor knocks on the door. He has just returned from a two-week vacation and hands me three Philly hoagies and a large sweet bun that he has brought for us. That takes care of breakfast and lunch the next day, which is a huge blessing.

          As I continue to reflect on this adventure, my heart lightens and my prayers change. I ask God to show me the way—a way to take care of what I need and a new way of approaching and handling money. I decide that God plans to do something big with this money. Since then, my constant prayer has been for Him to use me in big ways through this and to bring along someone who needs this more than I do (whether it’s the money they need or the kindness because people have shown me much kindness during these past few years, and some days, that makes all the difference in the world).

          On Monday, I receive $20 from a friend who owed me for pet-sitting, which allows me to fill my gas tank and return home from work. We use the last few dollars in the bank to buy toilet paper and a few ingredients to complete a delicious dinner. As we dine on chicken curry, it occurs to me how truly blessed we are. I recently read that if you make $30,000 per year, then you are among the top five percent of wage earners in the world. That is mindboggling. How can we have so much more than the rest of the world yet be so stressed, anxious, and ungrateful?

          I learned from my parents to live paycheck to paycheck, to barely make ends meet, to borrow from family, to always need help. Ever since I started this blog, I have been praying to become someone who blesses others rather than someone who needs blessings. Not that we all can’t use blessings at some points in our lives, but that I wish to feel secure and safe enough, that I long to have enough resources (both money and time) to help others more often. I guess God does answers prayers, so we better watch out for times when our prayers might clash.

          Ultimately, my prayer is for God to use me. As Ghandi said, I want to “be the change I want to see in this world.”