There are so many lovely Christians who write online. Every so often I run into one.
Recently, I’ve been having a hard time. The move here has exposed that I want so much for my self. I want my time, my ambitions, my desires. Instead, I’ve been drafted into a job that I am woefully not good at. Not drafted, I willingly decided to join. In my naivete, I did not anticipate what others saw coming. My mother is an accountant. She passed her CPA exam with two kids in tow. She worked and fed us fresh meals every, single, day. I never wanted to be an accountant. I majored in Economics in college. To most people, that might seem like it’s close to Accounting. Let me tell you, it’s not. Economists and Accountants are like the Chemists and Biologists of the world. We deal with similar things, but from a different worldview. Economists are always asking the question “Why?”, which I am very, very, inclined towards. And, which seems to drive certain practical minds crazy. “What do you mean why?” If I have no answer to “Why?” I feel that what I am doing is meaningless. And within myself I feel that it must not be arbitrary; there must be some secret that I don’t know, a reason for this seeming madness. There must be an answer to that question. And I feel it is hidden, and I cannot bear secrets. I myself am terrible at keeping secrets, but only my own. I can keep others. With myself, I feel this odd need to divulge, that if I didn’t, I would be counted dishonest. I feel the need to tell my hubby that I had another bothersome dream. Even though I don’t need to. Hubby is the opposite in this regard, but that’s for another blog post. Anyway, sometimes, there are no answers. At least, none that anyone can verbalize to an inquisitive, exasperated learner without becoming exhausted doing so. How did I end up here?
We felt it was of the Lord that we come. I had this place in my heart before we got married, but because of school and a job, it was not the time. Now we are here, and I feel I just want to be by myself, holed up in a house, maybe pursuing my music, my cooking, my designing, my becoming an ultimate perfect housewife slash musician slash chef slash walking encyclopedia slash polyglot slash greenthumber slash DIYer. In life, this desire for the ideal has often paralyzed me, pulled me in many directions, fueled my disappointment and self-disparagement. At this point, I would generally break out with one of my favorite songs from Wicked 🙂
Ok but seriously, this mom’s post about contentment? Wow. It’s like my dream of a perfect life just got slapped in the face, in a good way.