Tender Mercies

Not entirely sure why I post these things here. Maybe it's to help someone who may be struggling too. Or maybe it's just because this is as close to a journal as I'm ever going to get.

I want to share something personal that happened to me Sunday. Lately I've missed a lot of Sundays at church due to incredible headaches or work, and I kind of think God was just waiting for me to show up so we could have words. See, I've really, truly been struggling with the status of my job in my life. I hate that it takes up so much of my time, and that I feel so responsible and that it pulls me away from what I know in my heart to be what I'm supposed to do on this earth.

5 years ago, I accepted God's entreaty to write for Him. Last summer, I became so concerned about temporal needs that I got a job. At the time it felt very much the right thing to do. I even got a blessing. And, to be blunt, I still don't know why getting this job was the right thing then and isn't now. Perhaps it's just because of how it's taken over my life. One promotion. Then another. And suddenly it's all I think about.

Back to Sunday. I was in the middle of Sacrament meeting, filled with inner turmoil, when very suddenly I heard in my head these words, "Quit your job and write."

Immediately I balked. "No! We can't afford to live if I quit now. Bryan's income won't support the family by itself! I can't. I want to, but I can't."

Again. "Quit your job and write."

Those of you who have had the holy spirit overwhelm you understand that it creates a physical response. My whole face opened up. My eyes were leaking. My nose was leaking. (I don't cry like one of those dainty movie people) I was shaking all over. You simply can't DENY the spirit when it hits you so strong.

Obviously, since I'd just become a sprinkler in the middle of Sacrament, my family noticed. The girls asked what's wrong. Bryan asked what's wrong. He passed me a note because I couldn't speak. I wrote it out to him. And I added that I needed a blessing and a quiet place to pray. So we got up and went to a room and I cried all over his clean white shirt and expressed all my doubts and fears and yet knowing it's what I have to do.

Quit my job and write.

After I'd settled down a bit and run out of tissues, he gave me a priesthood blessing. It was simply a confirmation of what I already knew but had temporarily lost sight of. My first calling is that of Mother. My second is that of Writer. Then the other things come into play. I need to pray more. Go to the temple. He has things for me to do, and, with faith, He will take care of our needs.

I know this. And I have let my job interfere with mothering my children. It's certainly derailed my writing. So, deep breath and plunge. Sometimes I feel the net is there to catch me, but it also has deep holes just big enough for me to fall through. I'm not perfect. My faith is not perfect. But I'm trying.

God's timing is exceptional. That night at work I got a call from one of my son's friends about something my son had done. If I had faced that, and the ensuing fallout, without that blessing and renewal of purpose, I would have been at a loss as to how I would work my job, help my son, and still make everything work out.

I keep forgetting this is God's concert. We're just the instruments in His orchestra. It's NOT up to me to make everything work out. It's up to ME to let HIM in enough to provide the answers we need.