Waiting

There’s definitely a reason God calls us children.

I see it every day in my own kids. It doesn’t matter how good I am to them, they doubt me the very next minute.

Take Violet, for example. Never, EVER, have I left her behind…anywhere. And yet, let me get two steps ahead of her on my way down the steps, and she is blubbering and crying real tears and begging me, “Don’t WEAVE me, mommy!” I mean, what part of that looked like leaving? It’s called putting a little space between us so I don’t trip over you and crack my head open. 

And the other day, I told the kids they had to wait until I had all the groceries put away before they could play outside. There was weeping all around. “You NEVER let us play outside, Mommy. We’re NEVER going to get to go outside.”

I’m sorry…are we both speaking English? Because, frankly, I take them outside all the freaking time. And I actually just promised to take them out when I finished with the groceries. I just said, “Wait a minute, OK?”

Based on their reactions, you would have no idea we spent the summer at a pool, lazy Fridays at the museum, and vacations at the beach. You certainly wouldn’t know that I’m in someone’s bed at some point almost every night…because when you need mom, you just need mom. You would think that at some point they’ve been abandoned somewhere, that they’ve gone without meals, that I never, ever hit the drive-thru at Krispy Kreme.

If I can get them to stop and pull their heads out of their rear ends for a few minutes, usually I get some kind of acknowledgement that they’ve overreacting just a bit. But what is it that’s hardwired in us to not trust?

Is it because I don’t always do what they want right away? Maybe. Waiting sucks. I’ll absolutely attest to that. Is it because they forget so quickly? Possibly. I do that, too. Is it because they can’t see signs that I’m working to meet their needs, possibly because they have no idea what that looks like? Yeah, maybe.

The fact is that I’m responding to God in just the same way right now. I can’t stop fixating on the time I took a leave from my job to be with the kids, and we literally drained our whole savings account by the time I skulked back to work with my tail between my legs. That leaves me legitimately panicked because I don’t have that job to skulk back to anymore. I mainly remember long periods of worrying about money and feeling deprivation, which feels extra hard to me because everything we do to save money is, of course, more work for me.

I look at the opportunities that have already fizzled. I look at the damage done by James’ former employer. I look at statistics, logic, and experience, and nothing looks good. At best, maybe he’ll get a new job with a twenty-thousand dollar pay cut. Maybe we can get by, but it’s doubtful. At worst, he won’t find anything at all, and we’ll drag ourselves back to Cincinnati, to live with family while I go back to the classroom. My own understanding looks pretty awful, and I’m angry and scared. I’m buckled in the backseat with huge tears running down my face. This sucks. 

None of this fits the promises in the Bible, as I see them. But it’s hard knowing God seemingly led us down here, knowing how it would turn out. That He let me be pressured into resigning that job I didn’t want anymore anyway, knowing I would need it in nine months. That He let us like it here. That He let us have a taste of financial freedom, only to rip it away.

I know God wants me to trust him, to relax and wait for him. It’s hard when you’re the one who checks the bank account balance, just saying. I can doing everything possible mentally, but faith and peace are wearing thin. I can’t be too hard on my kids when I’m not faring much better in this journey to trust. I want to…I just don’t know how.