The reality of the naked trust is the life of the pilgrim who leaves what is nailed down, obvious and secure and walks into the unknown without any rational explanation to justify the decision or guarantee the future. Why? Because God has signaled the movement and offered it his presence and his promise.
-Brennan Manning
It seemed like a good idea on paper.
Walking away from seven years as the Communications Director at our church, a job I loved, with a staff of co-workers/friends I loved, in hopes of discovering what else was out there for me. Creating space for exploring my long and ever growing list of creative pursuits. Building margin into my days that were normally so tightly packed that I was perpetually late to everything. Being home for my children as they did homeschool during Covid-19 lockdowns and then entered the roller coaster of middle school life. It seemed like it could be an adventure.
The truth is, when I hit Send on the email telling them I was leaving, I was terrified.
Despite all that rationale, it was an action prompted by a momentary, spontaneous thought, and I’d never made a life change so impulsively. So unplanned. I had no good explanation for my decision, except that the niggling thought had been lingering in the back of my mind for what felt like forever. Like a fleeting shadow, the question lurked around the periphery of my logical, predictable life.
What if?
So I hit Send.
Until that decision, I’d lived my whole life doing what I thought I was supposed to do. Following the script. Born in the late 70’s, the first child of two first generation Christians, one who is a lifelong perfectionist, I already had the deck stacked against me when it came to my freedom to make mistakes. Like all firstborns, I carried the extra burden of bushwhacking through never-before-traveled territory. As the oldest of four, I was the one on whom my parents learned how to parent. At the beginning I fit easily in their plan. On day one of life I was like an unblemished canvas, stretched tight and untouched, upon which all their hopes and dreams for raising the world’s Very First Perfect Child could be painted.
Only things didn’t go as they’d hoped. One by one, the blocks that made up the precarious jenga tower of their hopes and dreams toppled. I had perfect behavior (until at just under a year, I openly defied them for the first time.) As a student, I had straight A’s (until I entered high school, when I started doing my work myself without “help.”) I had pristine health (until out of nowhere, I was diagnosed at 15 with Rheumatoid Arthritis.) Over and over, their hopes of perfectly raising a perfect child perfectly were repeatedly shattered.
I’ve never been the perfect first child I was meant to be. Believe me, I tried. I’m going on three years of weekly counseling to try to untangle that.
So while suddenly walking away from a great job that I loved might not seem like a big deal to most, for me at 41 it was a total departure of character. Four years on, I still have a hard time not looking back. Like an ex-boyfriend whose flaws have faded with the passing time, leaving only the good memories, in hindsight that job was my dream job. And as if your ex-boyfriend married your sister and now you regularly run into him at family events, we still attend the church every week, so I am continuously having to remind myself that I chose to walk away.
These days, I’m Jekyll and Hyde about not working.
I love the ability to be spontaneous with my schedule. I can drop in on people and drive up to meet my husband for lunch and a walk with our pup on the walking trail around his office.
I dread the unstructured days where my schedule is empty and no one expects anything of me.
I love the uninterrupted time to read/think/write/do yoga/create.
I fear the question that always follows the update that I am not working … So what ARE you doing now?
I love the fact that I get to house projects that have been put off for months.
I hate the unending quiet.
I love the clarity and presence of mind that comes with a slower pace of life.
I don’t at all like the tighter budget.
In fact, it’s taken everything in me to not go out and get another job. A couple weeks ago, when I was having one of my regular days of struggle, and just needed to do something, I spontaneously submitted my application for a part-time job at LifeTime Fitness. I sent my resume, which includes 24 years of professional communications experience in a corporate environment and submitted it for a job with the only requirement that applicants must be “pursuing a GED,” the Tennis and Pickleball Receptionist.
Do I know anything about either Tennis or Pickleball? No.
Do I, or have I ever played either? Also no.
Do I have career ambitions anywhere in the stratosphere of that role? Nope.
Could I do the job? Yes.
Did I see it as a way to get a free membership at LifeTime? 100%.
But when they asked me last week to come in for an interview, and I shared it with a few people, every time the words came out of my mouth it sounded a little bit more ridiculous. A friend that I had shared it with on the morning of the interview literally said to me, laughing, “You are always interviewing for something!” And I realized how ridiculous it really was. So 90 minutes before the interview, I sent them an email telling them I wanted to cancel.
When I stop being emotional and start thinking pragmatically, here are the facts…
- We have a new puppy. I don’t want to put her in the kennel all the time. She’s a total people puppy.
- In just four weeks, the kids will be out of school for the summer. Then I’d have the stress of working while they’re home alone.
- As a benefit of the job, I would get an individual membership, not a family membership to LifeTime. It felt entirely impractical and selfish.
- I realized I was only doing it to soothe the discomfort I feel at not being “needed” anywhere.
So while I struggle daily with my current no job situation, my “good idea on paper” has actually put me in a place where I am now sorting through lifelong identity and insecurity issues. While I might not see it or feel it yet, I believe there is purpose in this season of unknown … that God is doing some work in me that will bear fruit both now and in the future.
Come September, and full time grad school, I’m guessing not having a job may even feel like a gift. But for now I will keep trying to be open to what I am supposed to learn in this slow season of waiting.
These Words of Mine 
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