D-Day

We are down to one day.  I thought I had a great nanny candidate, but she took another job before we could interview her.  No other candidates have panned out, so daycare it is.  My emotions change by the day, hour, and minute.  On the one hand, I know intellectually that His timing is perfect; He has always come through and in retrospect, I can’t think of a single time when I wish He’d answered my prayers differently.  Personally, though, when I stare at the reality of where my kids will be day to day, I am just not OK.  I wonder if I missed something.  If maybe I wasn’t really following His leading after all.  If I was supposed to resign even though my husband was against it.  If I was supposed to ignore the balance in the checking account and the work we need to do on our house.  I also wonder why, if God intends me to work, he didn’t provide a better care situation for my kids.  Because He knows I looked.  At least, I think I did.  And there I am again…back at wondering if I missed something. 

Sometimes I feel like this is temporary: a part of His plan that will unfold in crazy ways I couldn’t imagine.  But then the pessimist shows up and says that either I have to keep my job because yet again I’ll be supporting the family, because some sort of tragedy is impending, or (worse still) that I am simply meant to do this forever.  That makes me feel really sick.  Throw-up sick.

Every once in a while, I’m relieved at the idea of bringing in a salary, of not worrying about bills month-to-month, of getting some of these projects done around the house and maybe paying down those student loans and my van.  But then I think of my kids…of the days, hours, and minutes that I’ll never get back.  I’m worried about Eli navigating kindergarten pick-up when I won’t be there to make sure he’s safe.  I’m worried about Violet being sick all the time.  I worried about Caleb being guided in the best possible way for his strong temperament.  I know that if this is the road God wants me to walk, He will take care of my kids, but it just doesn’t seem like it.

Then I think of the people who longed for the desires of their heart for so long, and God never came through.  I suppose that is their journey, not mine…but it could be mine and it makes me sad.  Will my marriage always be this way?  Will I ever get to experience real love?  Will I ever get to experience the little privileges of motherhood: school drop-offs and pick-ups, the ability to just stay home with a sick kid without checking my sick-leave balance, the feeling that somehow what I do is good, that I don’t have to perform to be worth the food I eat.

And yet, I know that God didn’t NOT show up in these past months.  He has parented me so much as I’ve loved on my little ones.  He has held me as I navigated horrible post-partum depression and struggled to adapt to the reality of my marriage and the demands of parenthood.  He has instilled in my heart the sense that He is not finished yet, so I should not despair.  He has let me see the beginnings of Caleb’s spirit healing.  He has given me platforms for my writing, and words to put on paper.  He has shown me what it means to love the work you do, even though it is still work.  We have made progress, I think.  I just hope we don’t take one giant step backwards on Monday. 

I have no other choice but to believe.  As I’ve written the advent calendar over the past few months, God has told me over and over that He can do the impossible, He keeps his promises, He uses people in spite of their qualifications, He values and rewards obedience, He loves me deeply, and He is faithful.  I am trying to cling to these promises as the storm in my heart rages on.