In the last month, something I've always suspected has become overwhelmingly evident in this little space: when I have a lot on my heart, I don't write at all. It kind of makes me a bad English major, I think, since writing is one of those things we're supposed to do well, particularly about such nebulous things as emotions. I am supposed to express myself through writing, for pete's sake, but when it goes deep enough, I just can't. (There goes my shot at the next great American novel, I guess.) If nothing else, it makes me a pretty bad blogger. But my heart is a little lighter tonight, so now I can share a bit about what has been on my mind lately.
We walked away from our church nearly a year ago, and we haven't found another one. Truth be told, we haven't really looked, partly because for a long, long time my heart couldn't take it, and partly because when we did look, nothing felt right. We're just not sure where to find what we're looking for, if it even exists in Peoria, or at all. This process has been so intensely personal for me that I find it hard to talk about, that even when I want to talk about it, I'm not sure what to say. I want things to be different, but I'm not sure they can be. And coming up on a year since we left is hard. So lately, church has been sitting on the patio on Sunday mornings reading Rachel Held Evans' Searching for Sunday and trying not to cry because it resonates so deeply with me. It's not quite enough, but for now, it has to be.
Work has been stressful. I started a new position on June 1, and it is full of opportunity, but the learning curve is steep and fast. I went from a job where I was the expert, swimming laps in an Olympic-sized pool, to treading water in an ocean of things I don't understand, or understand but not enough, or not fast enough. My new supervisor has high expectations, and I want desperately to meet them, but I spend half of my time terrified I won't. So I keep my head down and keep reminding myself that I wanted to leave my old job, that this was the right move, that it's a great opportunity. Some days it quiets the doubt. Some days, it doesn't.
We've had Yuna for almost a year ago. Getting her, I joked, was our compromise because I wanted one more child and Josh didn't. I hoped it would change things, but really, it hasn't. I still want one more baby. He doesn't. Well meaning friends tell me sometimes God makes those decisions for us and then tells me a story of "whoopsie" babies; I tell them if that's the case, God is clearly siding with Josh. (I don't think that's true anyway.) He and I don't talk about it much, mostly because there's not a point when we know where the other stands. And I don't like to talk about it anyway. His reasons for not wanting another baby are head and heart reasons, they make sense, they are well-considered, and I respect him for the position he holds, even though it hurts me deeply. My reasons for wanting another baby are heart reasons; they are harder to put into words, but they are just as deeply felt. I want us to agree. Even if it means that I don't "get" what I want. But I don't know how to get there. I don't know how to stop hoping he'll change his mind.
In the meantime, Elaina is getting ready to start kindergarten. My sweet little Lou is going to get on a bus next Tuesday morning and I'm going to have to not cry so she can be brave, too. She had a dentist appointment this week and the hygienist discovered she has her very first loose tooth, and she is starting school, and our lives won't ever be the same. Ellie starts preschool in two weeks, and that changes everything, too. I just can't believe how fast the last 6 years have gone. And it doesn't seem quite fair--some parents keep wishing away their children's lives, and I have begged time to slow down, but it passes the same for both of us.
So, a lot has been going on in my head and in my life and in my heart.
But tomorrow is a new day.
A vacation day, actually.
Josh and I are going to Dekalb, the sleepy little college town where we met almost 10 years ago. We are going to try a coffee roaster that wasn't there while we were in school, back in the days when we thought Maxwell House french roast was top of the line. We are going to see one of my friends from undergrad days and meet her little son and give her my old boppy pillow to use with her daughter, due next month. We will introduce her to the culinary wonder that is Bea's Wok 'n Roll. We will order postickers and jasmine tea and an extra entree to go, so that Bea can be a guest at our dinner table, too. Then we will go visit Dr. Giles and his wife, Wanda, and take them a pie I made tonight with a "G" cut out of the top crust. We will talk about how we met and about our wedding and what we are doing now, and we will take a picture because I promised Wanda we'd bring our fancy camera with the built-in timer. And then we will come home and gather our girls and another weekend will begin.
Nothing will have changed, but everything will be better.
We are hitting reset, and I can't wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment