Have you ever had one of those moments where you completely and utterly give up? Where you just say it like it is even if it sounds really bad and painful? Well, that moment happened for me a week or two ago. I've been processing and not sure if I'd post about it -- especially in the season of joy and cheer. But, hey, you all know I don't keep it in so well, so here it goes . . .
I firmly believe that each person has a call on their life. God made us each for a reason and it's up to us if we want to live out that reason or not. Most of the hurt and pain that I see in the world is because someone -- or a whole group of someones -- aren't living out their call. Sometimes people who follow Jesus use this word for specific types of calling only. The call to become a pastor, for instance. Really, though, this mystifies the truth that each person is called to be something. The call to be a farmer or teacher or plumber is no less valid than the call to counsel people through addiction or the call to translate God's words for people to understand. So, when I talk about my call, please read it as my understanding of who God made me to be . . . not a special assignment or a heavenly teacher's pet or something.
So, as all people who have kept up with my past year at all can remember, it's been a rough one. From carrying and delivering Lucy in India to going home to say goodbye to my dear Dad to working in a difficult environment to seeing a lot of hard things and not knowing how best to help, I'm feeling ready for an upswing. Chris and I have been talking a lot about refocusing our lives on God and trying to understand our call in life. We know He wants us in India -- to work here, probably start a business, and bless those around us. We know He gave us our kids and each other and wants us to live it out here. But what exactly is that to look like? We've been making room by listening and praying more pointedly so that we can hopefully grow into it better as we move forward.
So, Emily, what are you finding out is your calling? Well, let me tell you a story. The other day, I woke up and had a great quiet time with God. Chris has been giving me time in the morning to pray and read and write before starting the hectic day with the kiddos. So, I had had a great and encouraging time with Him. I even had gotten to put a load of laundry in the wash -- the last one before I was caught up from a week and a half in Delhi. So, I was feeling really put together. I may have even thought to myself, "Gee, Em, you're really getting the hang of this whole India thing. You've got things figured out now." Uh Oh!
I have found that anytime I feel this way, something is bound to come by and remind me again that I don't have anything put together. Enter, my Morning. I opened the door on some grumpy boys finishing breakfast and complaining about something or another. Chris was trying to hurry because he had to get ready for the day and get out to his language class. Lucy immediately started whining and grabbing for my leg. As I was trying to get the boys situated with breakfast or a craft project or something, I hear Chris calling from the bedroom, "Em, Help!" I opened the door to see water had flooded into our bedroom from the washing machine that is on the porch. The pigeon poo had stopped up our drain again and poo water had flooded onto a pile of clean clothes I'd thrown on the floor the night before thinking I'd fold them in the morning. Then, I ran into the kids' room, and sure enough, it had flooded into there as well. It went onto some toys and books and a great big blanket that Jed had thrown from his bunk for some reason.
Great! "Go ahead and get ready," I told Chris, "You're already late." Such a great wife, I know. Lucy, still fussing on my hip, begins whining as I try to set her down to clean up the mess. The power goes out. Then, Jed and Abe start fighting from the other room. So, now, I've got a soggy load of half-clean laundry in the washer, 2 new loads of wet, contaminated clothes on the floor, 2 puddles of water to clean up, toys and papers to sort through and decide what to clean and what to pitch, 3 whining kids, and a husband who's late to class.
Chris gets ready to head out the door and I hear, "Oh no, Em, this bottle of cleaner leaked all over the cabinet!" Yes, of course the cabinet had a huge pile of random junk that I never quite got around to finding a home for. Yes, the pile included my favorite story book to read to the kids. Yes, Chris was already very late for class. Yes, I was already well over my head. I yelled something, snapped at Chris, swung Lucy to my other hip and started sorting through the new pile of ruined and/or dirty stuff. I think I may have even told Chris to "Get out of here!" because I was so frustrated that all these things were making him later and all I wanted to do was ask him to stay and help me.
So, Chris goes out the door, I set Lucy down, try to ignore her screams, and start mopping up the piles of water when I hear Jed say, "Mama, I think I went poo in my pants." Yep, he had a stomach bug. So, I get him to the bathroom, clean him off, and start running a tub for his bath. Well, I thought, they're all filthy anyway, so the least I can do is get them clean. Jed just did me a favor. About this time, the door rings . . . the milkman. He brought the milk, but had forgotten I'd asked for a larger order since Lucy was drinking more milk lately. "That's okay, tomorrow will be fine."
I get Jed in the bathtub and Abe starts crying that he wanted to go first, Lucy is still crying because I'm trying to clean up the spill on the floor. The bell rings again. The milkman had extra so he brought me a little more milk. I made Jed get out of the bath -- he started throwing a fit about being cold. I started putting Abe in the bathtub. Lucy was crying still, and the doorbell rings a third time. Our house helper had decided to come early today because the other houses she worked for were done more quickly than usual. Did I mention there were about 2 loads of laundry hanging around my room on strings to dry because it takes about 2 days for anything to get dry around here? Breakfast was spilled all over the table. Crayons and markers and papers were all around their desks. Blocks were thrown about the house, and now I was supposed to try to explain to this sweet girl in Hindi about why I was looking "very stressed out" today!!!!
Later that night, as I sat here on our couch, looking at the lights on our Charlie Brown Christmas Tree, Chris prayed for me. He prayed that God would show me what my calling was. I just blurted out, "I don't want it!" Woah! I was overwhelmed with that truth. Now, I wanted to be in India. I wanted to make a difference for people. To be a voice for people who have no voice. To live it out. But, what that really meant day-to-day I wasn't prepared for. With my floor wet, my clothes wet, my kids whining and screaming, I just wanted to take a pass. In reality, it wasn't just that fleeting moment. It's been under my radar since before we got here, really. Living in a new culture and bringing light to people and making a difference sure sounds glamorous. Not so much my chaotic house with my chaotic kids in chaotic India. So, now what? What happens when I don't really want my call. When I'd rather be home where my Mom can help, where I can drive a car to a park, where I can pack the kids up and go shopping and it's no big deal?
Here's where I could overspiritualize and sound really pious and with-it by saying that I'm ready to take on my call no matter what that means. But I won't. Because it's not true. I'm learning what it means. I'm fighting over whether I can wake up every day and do this. Today, I've had a lot of fun. I got to wrap presents, bake cookies, talk with a friend, laugh with my kids, and do other neat stuff. Today, I'm liking my call. Tomorrow, I might not again. Does that change anything? It's probably going to be a process to give it back to God every day. To get up in India whether the power is off and everything is falling apart or whether I've gotten to encourage a local friend. But I gotta be real about it not being easy or I'm just a fraud. It's the same for anyone else living out their own call. A dear friend once told me that the hard times test the trueness of our call. If I can get up in India when I don't want to, that's when it's for real. Not just when I'm doing something groundbreaking. God's gotta be real enough for the mundane if He's going to be real enough for the inspirational. So, even if and when I don't want it, I hope His grace is enough to get me up and make me do it anyway.
Here's a few pics of the good times!
I firmly believe that each person has a call on their life. God made us each for a reason and it's up to us if we want to live out that reason or not. Most of the hurt and pain that I see in the world is because someone -- or a whole group of someones -- aren't living out their call. Sometimes people who follow Jesus use this word for specific types of calling only. The call to become a pastor, for instance. Really, though, this mystifies the truth that each person is called to be something. The call to be a farmer or teacher or plumber is no less valid than the call to counsel people through addiction or the call to translate God's words for people to understand. So, when I talk about my call, please read it as my understanding of who God made me to be . . . not a special assignment or a heavenly teacher's pet or something.
So, as all people who have kept up with my past year at all can remember, it's been a rough one. From carrying and delivering Lucy in India to going home to say goodbye to my dear Dad to working in a difficult environment to seeing a lot of hard things and not knowing how best to help, I'm feeling ready for an upswing. Chris and I have been talking a lot about refocusing our lives on God and trying to understand our call in life. We know He wants us in India -- to work here, probably start a business, and bless those around us. We know He gave us our kids and each other and wants us to live it out here. But what exactly is that to look like? We've been making room by listening and praying more pointedly so that we can hopefully grow into it better as we move forward.
So, Emily, what are you finding out is your calling? Well, let me tell you a story. The other day, I woke up and had a great quiet time with God. Chris has been giving me time in the morning to pray and read and write before starting the hectic day with the kiddos. So, I had had a great and encouraging time with Him. I even had gotten to put a load of laundry in the wash -- the last one before I was caught up from a week and a half in Delhi. So, I was feeling really put together. I may have even thought to myself, "Gee, Em, you're really getting the hang of this whole India thing. You've got things figured out now." Uh Oh!
I have found that anytime I feel this way, something is bound to come by and remind me again that I don't have anything put together. Enter, my Morning. I opened the door on some grumpy boys finishing breakfast and complaining about something or another. Chris was trying to hurry because he had to get ready for the day and get out to his language class. Lucy immediately started whining and grabbing for my leg. As I was trying to get the boys situated with breakfast or a craft project or something, I hear Chris calling from the bedroom, "Em, Help!" I opened the door to see water had flooded into our bedroom from the washing machine that is on the porch. The pigeon poo had stopped up our drain again and poo water had flooded onto a pile of clean clothes I'd thrown on the floor the night before thinking I'd fold them in the morning. Then, I ran into the kids' room, and sure enough, it had flooded into there as well. It went onto some toys and books and a great big blanket that Jed had thrown from his bunk for some reason.
Great! "Go ahead and get ready," I told Chris, "You're already late." Such a great wife, I know. Lucy, still fussing on my hip, begins whining as I try to set her down to clean up the mess. The power goes out. Then, Jed and Abe start fighting from the other room. So, now, I've got a soggy load of half-clean laundry in the washer, 2 new loads of wet, contaminated clothes on the floor, 2 puddles of water to clean up, toys and papers to sort through and decide what to clean and what to pitch, 3 whining kids, and a husband who's late to class.
Chris gets ready to head out the door and I hear, "Oh no, Em, this bottle of cleaner leaked all over the cabinet!" Yes, of course the cabinet had a huge pile of random junk that I never quite got around to finding a home for. Yes, the pile included my favorite story book to read to the kids. Yes, Chris was already very late for class. Yes, I was already well over my head. I yelled something, snapped at Chris, swung Lucy to my other hip and started sorting through the new pile of ruined and/or dirty stuff. I think I may have even told Chris to "Get out of here!" because I was so frustrated that all these things were making him later and all I wanted to do was ask him to stay and help me.
So, Chris goes out the door, I set Lucy down, try to ignore her screams, and start mopping up the piles of water when I hear Jed say, "Mama, I think I went poo in my pants." Yep, he had a stomach bug. So, I get him to the bathroom, clean him off, and start running a tub for his bath. Well, I thought, they're all filthy anyway, so the least I can do is get them clean. Jed just did me a favor. About this time, the door rings . . . the milkman. He brought the milk, but had forgotten I'd asked for a larger order since Lucy was drinking more milk lately. "That's okay, tomorrow will be fine."
I get Jed in the bathtub and Abe starts crying that he wanted to go first, Lucy is still crying because I'm trying to clean up the spill on the floor. The bell rings again. The milkman had extra so he brought me a little more milk. I made Jed get out of the bath -- he started throwing a fit about being cold. I started putting Abe in the bathtub. Lucy was crying still, and the doorbell rings a third time. Our house helper had decided to come early today because the other houses she worked for were done more quickly than usual. Did I mention there were about 2 loads of laundry hanging around my room on strings to dry because it takes about 2 days for anything to get dry around here? Breakfast was spilled all over the table. Crayons and markers and papers were all around their desks. Blocks were thrown about the house, and now I was supposed to try to explain to this sweet girl in Hindi about why I was looking "very stressed out" today!!!!
Later that night, as I sat here on our couch, looking at the lights on our Charlie Brown Christmas Tree, Chris prayed for me. He prayed that God would show me what my calling was. I just blurted out, "I don't want it!" Woah! I was overwhelmed with that truth. Now, I wanted to be in India. I wanted to make a difference for people. To be a voice for people who have no voice. To live it out. But, what that really meant day-to-day I wasn't prepared for. With my floor wet, my clothes wet, my kids whining and screaming, I just wanted to take a pass. In reality, it wasn't just that fleeting moment. It's been under my radar since before we got here, really. Living in a new culture and bringing light to people and making a difference sure sounds glamorous. Not so much my chaotic house with my chaotic kids in chaotic India. So, now what? What happens when I don't really want my call. When I'd rather be home where my Mom can help, where I can drive a car to a park, where I can pack the kids up and go shopping and it's no big deal?
Here's where I could overspiritualize and sound really pious and with-it by saying that I'm ready to take on my call no matter what that means. But I won't. Because it's not true. I'm learning what it means. I'm fighting over whether I can wake up every day and do this. Today, I've had a lot of fun. I got to wrap presents, bake cookies, talk with a friend, laugh with my kids, and do other neat stuff. Today, I'm liking my call. Tomorrow, I might not again. Does that change anything? It's probably going to be a process to give it back to God every day. To get up in India whether the power is off and everything is falling apart or whether I've gotten to encourage a local friend. But I gotta be real about it not being easy or I'm just a fraud. It's the same for anyone else living out their own call. A dear friend once told me that the hard times test the trueness of our call. If I can get up in India when I don't want to, that's when it's for real. Not just when I'm doing something groundbreaking. God's gotta be real enough for the mundane if He's going to be real enough for the inspirational. So, even if and when I don't want it, I hope His grace is enough to get me up and make me do it anyway.
Here's a few pics of the good times!
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