All-consuming, that's how it's been. I find myself with a constant undercurrent moving beneath my thoughts, sometimes forming waves that crash disruptively over my listening skills. Like in a meeting last week, where twice I was caught deep in thought about The Decision.
It's a very cool opportunity to spend a year working at another location, to meet a new team of people and live in their culture. The company is sensitive to the fact that my husband, who owns a business, will not go with me - on this sojourn, at least.
Opportunity = change. And change is not something I take lightly.
Finally I realized that this isn't about trying to figure it all out on my own, that God has a vested interest, too.
As I've been able to slow down and place it in God's hands and put it on God's timetable, it has brought peace and anticipation instead of perplexity and anxiety.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
streeeeeeeetch
Driving to Bronson Park, wondering what I was thinking. Not too late to turn around.
Had I turned around, I would have missed Triple Decker Guy (peanut butter on outside layers, jelly in the center - the "club sandwich of peanut butter"), Joseph and Darlene, Martin and Mike, and Ellen. Not to mention the two-year old on whom we bestowed bubbles.
It was a Jesus thing. Head to the park with July 4th leftovers, a giant jar of peanut butter, jelly, cold water, soda - and see who would show up.
It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but became easier as I focused on the task at hand - serving others, asking their names, asking about them. For me, it wasn't about working Jesus into the conversation to gain a convert. It was about being present with some people who are not like me, but who are like me - for as was mentioned at church today, we're all the same at the Cross.
Streeeeetch. It's good to enlarge the boundaries, to step outside the comfort zone.
I won't be going all the way back into it. The comfort zone, that is.
Had I turned around, I would have missed Triple Decker Guy (peanut butter on outside layers, jelly in the center - the "club sandwich of peanut butter"), Joseph and Darlene, Martin and Mike, and Ellen. Not to mention the two-year old on whom we bestowed bubbles.
It was a Jesus thing. Head to the park with July 4th leftovers, a giant jar of peanut butter, jelly, cold water, soda - and see who would show up.
It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but became easier as I focused on the task at hand - serving others, asking their names, asking about them. For me, it wasn't about working Jesus into the conversation to gain a convert. It was about being present with some people who are not like me, but who are like me - for as was mentioned at church today, we're all the same at the Cross.
Streeeeetch. It's good to enlarge the boundaries, to step outside the comfort zone.
I won't be going all the way back into it. The comfort zone, that is.
open. close.
I think I have decided. It's time to lay it down.
Doors open and close for a reason. I'm not quite sure why this one opened, or why I feel compelled to close it.
I wanted to become a Dale Carnegie instructor, and put it on my "blue sky" prayer drawing. And seemingly out of the blue, within a month, I got a call asking if I would be interested. Excitement! Thrill!
Stepping through the open door was exhilarating; going to preliminary training was energizing.
The reality of the first conference weekend brought me to a crashing halt. Who was in charge? The leaders were discussing alternatives in a philosophical fashion. Expectations were not clear. I'm not a quitter, damn it. So I pressed on, only to be told (after relentless follow-up) that I needed (drum roll, please) - more training.
Disappointment, sure. But I'm not a quitter.
I signed up to coach with my sponsor, and he generously gave opportunity for me to run parts of the weekly sessions. And invited me to coach with him at a training this summer.
There's a sense that all is not well, however. The coaching that I expected to receive isn't forthcoming. He is involved in building the other part of his business. The focus this past week was on praising the other coaches; and recruiting coaches for the next session. The invitation for me to participate was conspicuously absent.
I'm not a quitter, but I want to quit.
My husband says, "Wait". If this session finishes and I am not invited to go further, that is an answer. Oh, waiting is difficult.
My friend put it well yesterday. She gently said that it seems to be stressful for me, and that I'm scrapping. Scrapping in the sense of trying to prove that I can do it.
Ah, friendship. To have someone who knows and loves me; a person who calls forth what has been swirling in my thoughts for the past few weeks.
It's true. Ever since "they" told me I needed more training, I was on it, ready to prove them wrong, ready to tackle any requirement they put on me. But think about it - why? Why prove them wrong? What is wrong with them being right, with me not being ready or good enough or whatever? I'm letting an insignificant failure define me; I'm giving "them" the power. I don't measure up to their standards, and so what?
How much more energy am I willing to devote to fruitless struggle with an uncertain outcome? Why not step back into the volunteer coaching role where I excel - where I have fun - where there is zero pressure?
Why don't I close the damn door this time?
Doors open and close for a reason. I'm not quite sure why this one opened, or why I feel compelled to close it.
I wanted to become a Dale Carnegie instructor, and put it on my "blue sky" prayer drawing. And seemingly out of the blue, within a month, I got a call asking if I would be interested. Excitement! Thrill!
Stepping through the open door was exhilarating; going to preliminary training was energizing.
The reality of the first conference weekend brought me to a crashing halt. Who was in charge? The leaders were discussing alternatives in a philosophical fashion. Expectations were not clear. I'm not a quitter, damn it. So I pressed on, only to be told (after relentless follow-up) that I needed (drum roll, please) - more training.
Disappointment, sure. But I'm not a quitter.
I signed up to coach with my sponsor, and he generously gave opportunity for me to run parts of the weekly sessions. And invited me to coach with him at a training this summer.
There's a sense that all is not well, however. The coaching that I expected to receive isn't forthcoming. He is involved in building the other part of his business. The focus this past week was on praising the other coaches; and recruiting coaches for the next session. The invitation for me to participate was conspicuously absent.
I'm not a quitter, but I want to quit.
My husband says, "Wait". If this session finishes and I am not invited to go further, that is an answer. Oh, waiting is difficult.
My friend put it well yesterday. She gently said that it seems to be stressful for me, and that I'm scrapping. Scrapping in the sense of trying to prove that I can do it.
Ah, friendship. To have someone who knows and loves me; a person who calls forth what has been swirling in my thoughts for the past few weeks.
It's true. Ever since "they" told me I needed more training, I was on it, ready to prove them wrong, ready to tackle any requirement they put on me. But think about it - why? Why prove them wrong? What is wrong with them being right, with me not being ready or good enough or whatever? I'm letting an insignificant failure define me; I'm giving "them" the power. I don't measure up to their standards, and so what?
How much more energy am I willing to devote to fruitless struggle with an uncertain outcome? Why not step back into the volunteer coaching role where I excel - where I have fun - where there is zero pressure?
Why don't I close the damn door this time?
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