I can't wait to see what God has for you!

When I was laid off, I had a long talk with myself. It was a talk that took months to have. What’s next? What do I want? What do I need? What does my family need? In those months I compiled a mental list of answers to those questions and combined it with what other people were saying, and what I discerned God saying to me.

It went something like this: Write, speak, teach, benefits, pension, groups, people, Masters. Folks often followed this up with a heartfelt, “I can’t wait to see what God has for you!!!”

Writing, speaking and teaching made sense.  Groups of people/communication are what I’m passionate about. Benefits and a pension are a bonus. I’m 45 and can’t work forever. There was financial confirmation of the Masters. And then there was that most encouraging of statements. “I can’t wait to see what God has for you!”

Those are beautiful words. I held onto them in my darkest days. But they were words that I interpreted to mean my next position was going to be so fantastic, the disappointment of my job loss will make complete sense, in fact, I will REJOICE that I no longer have that profession.

If any of you are ever in my situation please don’t interpret those words like I did. It could set you up for more pain.

Last week was the crucial week for me. I knew that by Friday, the next part of my journey would be decided. I had two interviews for jobs that I was qualified for. I had a work offer that was ok, but not what I was really looking for. I was optimistic and confident.

The interviews were great. I felt positive. They liked me, they really liked me. Cue Celebration by Kool and the Gang.

Then Thursday happened. In the matter of a few short hours: our hamster died, I was not chosen for job #1, I took my class 4 drivers knowledge test and failed, (I needed it for a potential position) and then was promptly passed over for job #2  – the one I really wanted – it would have been that rejoice – look what God had for you kind of job.

I cried.

And accepted the prior job offer that I had.

The next three days I was an emotional mess. I couldn’t reason with myself. I felt like I had let everyone down who said to me, “I can’t wait to see what God has for you!” I was a failure, plain and simple.

I didn’t see any light until Sunday. Then I saw something. I saw that my new position gives me opportunity to write, speak and teach. Had I gotten one of those two other posts I would have become comfortable in myself again, and not pursued these three things. I have benefits. I may even have a pension. It is a large organization and there is room for me to grow. I’m working with groups of people. I feel direction regarding my Masters degree.  

I experienced the gift of perspective.

In less than 48 hours my new job starts. It was not what I expected. I was not what I thought God would give me. I don’t even know that it’s a step “up” in my career. But I will learn things I did not know I needed to know. Any maybe, just maybe, what God has in store for me won’t be so bad after all.

Chapters are not forever (total epiphany)

I read many year end reflections this week. Lots of resolutions. Lots of promises. I posted one on FB too. Folks from all over were claiming that 2015 is going to be the best year yet.
It might be.
This is more than the beginning of a new year for me. This is the beginning of a whole new chapter in my life. I've had four months to grieve the loss of my job and make some sort of sense of that. I've dusted myself off. It's time to start over again.
I've had more doors close. I've sung with a group of Ladies for four years and that is done. I've applied for close to 150 jobs and most of them were "no". I've had a handful of interviews and been offered a new job to start probably this week. I'm not going to tell you what the job is, because I have two more interviews in the next 48 hours and another two after that, so even if I start this one, it may be a short tenure.
I look back at my life and wonder why it is so hard for me to move from chapter to chapter.
 - When I graduated from High School I went back over and over again for most every event.
 - I remember waking up the morning that my Parents took me to College. My first thought was, "This is the end of life as I know it.".
 - Then, when I graduated from College I sobbed during the entire ceremony. I could not bear for my College years to be done.
 - When I moved from Manitoba to BC I couldn't tell any of my students. Someone else had to. I could not share the news that I was leaving. Too hard.
 - I held on to a marriage for years that the other partner did not want to be part of. I could not fathom the end. It killed me.

These last four months its been mourning a job that I loved. And wondering what is next.
And being kind to myself in that process.
I sort of know what is next. There will be more school, there will be more teaching. there will be new adventures. Hopefully there will be a job that I love but even if there's not, I have learned an important lesson these 16 weeks. IT'S NOT FOREVER.
It doesn't sound like an epiphany but it is. I have travelled through each part of my life with this idea that THIS IS IT. And I have given 150% of myself to each section of my life because THIS IS IT.
But it's not.
Some things are. God and my family and some friends I know are along for the ride forever, but most things and people are seasonal.
That seems harsh and mean of me to say. I want everyone to be everything forever.
But it can't be. I can't let it be. It's too hard.

So in 2015 I am giving myself permission to move on. To make new memories. Some with the same people, some with new people. If I don't like my new job, it's not forever. I will keep God and my family as my focus, because they ARE forever (some of you will argue that family is not forever because they will pass away, as I will, but you know what I mean).

I give myself - and all of you - the gift of perspective. May it serve us well.

For all of you who wonder what it's like to have a writing coach - here is the exact same article that I posted on Monday, but now it is so much better! Read on and be amazed at the difference a writing coach can make....

Survival’s been my goal the last four or five Christmases. Managing the season’s expenses as a single Mom with four kids meant couponing, cashing in points and shopping in WalMart’s clearance section.

Being super-thrifty has become my way of life. After all, my Mom was a frugal McDougall, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But this year is different. Why? Because my lovely husband Jarrett taught me a couple months ago: My kids don’t know how to give each other gifts. 

Sure, we did Secret Santa each year. We drew names and spent a whopping five dollars on each other. I gave them gifts from me and Santa and Mama (Grandma). We hung stockings and stuffed them with five requisite items. Terry’s Chocolate Orange was the highlight. 

I know Christmas is about giving, not receiving. (Yes, I know it’s actually about Jesus birth;  I know Him intimately) But I was so consumed with ensuring my kids received,  that I didn’t provide them opportunity to give. I never noticed that, but Jarrett did—especially on birthdays.

So Jarrett devised a plan: give each kid $100 and charge them with the task of buying their siblings a thoughtful Christmas present. No gift cards allowed.

My inner frugal McDougall had a conniption. What happened to good stewardship? Couldn’t they give each other hand made coupons and be happy? Between us, we have five kids. That’s a lot of money! But Jarrett says, “We can be generous. Our budget can handle one month of perceived excess.”

Most of the kids are delighted, but the oldest feels inconvenienced. “We’ve never done this before,” he says. “Why the sudden material display of affection?”

In the last two weeks, we’ve put up the tree, decorated the house and baked Christmas goodies. But something else more important has taken place. The kids are holding late night secret meetings, passing notes, asking new questions and giggling. Fun!

Ten days remain before Saint Nick arrives. The tree has more gifts stacked under it than ever before, and I struggle with thinking I’ve sold out to materialism. I need to remind myself that this experiment isn’t about things. 

It’s reminding me that, in many ways, my winter season has ended. It’s acknowledging that this may be my eldest’s last Christmas at home for awhile. Next year he heads to university and he’ll spend  December 25, 2015 at his dad’s.  It’s giving my kids the opportunity to experience extravagance—like Jesus’ extravagant love for us, His kids. 

I can celebrate that. 

In praise of the "over the top" Christmas

The last four or five Christmases have been about survival for me. Becoming a single mother and managing Christmas when you have four kids was about couponing, cashing in points and the clearance section at WalMart.

This year is different. I didn’t set out thinking that it would be different. For me, being super-thrifty has become a way of life. (My Mom was a frugal McDougall and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree) But my lovely husband Jarrett pointed out something to me a couple months back:

My kids don’t know how to give each other gifts.

Sure, we did Secret Santa each year, where we’d draw names and spend a whopping $5.00 on each other. I would give them gifts from me and Santa and Mama (Grandma). And there would be the stocking with the requisite 5 elements. Terry’s Chocolate Orange was the highlight.  Not much more past that though.

I do know that Christmas is about giving, not receiving. (Yes, I know that it’s actually about Jesus being born, I am intimately acquainted with Him) But I have been so consumed with making sure my kids received, I have not given them opportunity to give. I didn’t think much of it, but Jarrett noticed it, especially when it came to birthdays.

So he came up with a plan: give each kid $100 and charge them with the task of buying each sibling a well thought out Christmas present. Gift cards are not acceptable.

My inner frugal McDougall had a conniption and wondered about good stewardship and couldn’t they just give each other hand made coupons? We have five kids. That’s a lot of money.

But Jarrett assures me that we can generous, and our budget can handle one month of perceived excess.

Most of the kids are delighted, but the oldest is inconvenienced. We have never done this before, why are we now asking for this sort of material display of affection?

The last week or two the tree has gone up, decorations have appeared and baking has been consumed. But something else has happened. Late night secret meetings and notes have been tossed around, new questions asked and giggles have erupted.

It’s been fun.

With ten days to go before Saint Nick’s arrival, the tree is more full of gifts than it has ever been. And I struggle with thinking I’ve sold out to materialism. I need to remind myself that this experiment is maybe not about things.

-       It’s about acknowledging that this may be my eldest’s last Christmas at home for a while. Next year he is off to University and he’ll be spending December 25, 2015 at his Dads.

-       It’s reminding me that in many ways, “winter is over” and it is a new season.

-       It’s giving my kids the opportunity to know what it’s like to feel extravagant.

-       And Jesus has given me far more than I can hold.

I can celebrate that.

Book Review - Till Justice is Served - Jerrie Alexander

Till Justice is Served, by Jerrie Alexander is a fantastic, fast paced read that is sure to delight adult readers. The plot is well thought out and offers enough just enough twists and turns to keep it's readers surprised and engrossed in the 200 page book.

The story follows the life of Erin Brady, a High School Counselor, who is a suspect in a murder (or two) that has taken the life of a student. In comes Rafe, a blast from the past quasi love interest who now makes his living as a tough as nails FBI agent. Rafe reconnects with Erin and promises to make sure that those responsible are brought to justice and of course, red hot passion ensues.

Throw in a kidnapping, some well meaning but misguided neighbors and a torn wedding dress and you have an entertaining thriller for your next weekend away.

Jerrie Alexander is the author of eight books, including the Lost and Found, Inc. series.  You can connect with Jerrie at http://www.JerrieAlexander.com.

I have now reached the anger stage

I did learn something...if you want to grieve well, some things just can't be avoided.

I do not like anger. In fact, I detest it. I don't like being angry. Angry people scare me. Growing up, we had two of Tim LaHaye's books grace our shelves at home. These are books before the "Left Behind" series. I think they were called, "Emotions, can you trust them?" and "Anger is a Choice".

I don't think I ever read them, but from what I gathered through talking about/skimming them, my immature, pre adolescent mind came to the following conclusion:

If you are/get angry, it is a sign of  character weakness and you are flawed and should be pitied.

I have held onto that  idea for the majority of my life, although I would scarcely ever say it out loud. Growing up I had this awesome friend that I'd hang out with lots, her parents were awesome too, but they fought and were mad much of the time. I just couldn't wrap my mind around that. Why couldn't these lovely people keep it together? What emotional misfortune had been thrust upon them to give them the inability to control their emotions?

I struggled with the story of Jesus overturning the tables in the temple too. All I could think of was what a mess he made and if I was his Mother I would have made him clean it up and apologize. Which led to my skepticism around Jesus being being sinless. How could he be sinless, he got mad?

Yes, I realize the error of my ways. But it has shaped me.

I've now had three critical incidents in my life which I refer to.
1. My Dad dying of pancreatic cancer when he was just 70.
2. My first husband leaving.
3. Being laid off from a job I loved.

My anger around the loss of my Dad was directed the most at my Mom. We've never had a touchy/feely relationship. She raised me in a "spare the rod, spoil the child" kind of way and it  affected how I relate to her, and in turn, how I parent my kids. After Dad died, we had a good couple of years where anything that the other person did (right down to washing the windows) was met with fury. It took me a long time to figure out that those very strong emotions was us dealing with our grief. Nasty.

When my Kid's Dad left, I did get mad. Righteously so. I won't tell you how I expressed that anger, but Ladies, if you ever need "Scorned Woman" resources, let me know. I think the fact that I did engage in activities that expressed how I was feeling was therapeutic for me and probably one of the most helpful parts of my grieving process. Actually, I will tell you one very helpful thing I did was take a Women's Self Defense course. Even though it had nothing to do with grief, being able to practice yelling and screaming and beating someone over the head with foam (sorry, Mike Kendell) was fantastic. I felt euphoric afterwards.

And now this. I had hoped that I had risen above this part of the grieving process, but not so. Things were going pretty well until the last couple of weeks. Not a day has gone by for the past two weeks where I haven't run into someone from church. Go out for supper? There they are. Answer the phone? They're calling. Get a text? It's them. Go on Facebook? There's a message from them. And the message is always the same. "We love you, we miss you and we are so upset that this has happened".
And that message is fantastic. It humbles me. It blesses me. It overwhelms me. It makes me cry.

And it makes me mad. I think if I didn't love the people so much, it would be much easier. If the people didn't love me, maybe I could accept it.

Why was I taken out of a situation where I loved and was loved? It makes no sense.

I can maybe understand it in a platitude-y "all things work together" sort of way, if you're going to remind me of that, don't bother. I know that already.

But going back to my original thought - I strongly dislike being angry. And what would my guy, Richard Rohr say? He has a devo in his book, "On the Threshold of Transformation" about anger. Here are two thoughts:

"Anger is a necessary and telling emotion long before it is any kind of sin." - good point
"Feel anger, learn what it has to tell you; but do not identify with it or it will kill you" - from Eph. 4:26-27

So that's where I sit. That's what I feel. I want to tell you that now that I've had this rant I feel so much better and likely won't feel another negative emotion for a few years, but I'm learning to know better.

If I'm going to grieve well, winter well, so spring can come, some things just can't be avoided. 

Meditation is not for the faint of heart

I did learn something....meditation is not for the faint of heart.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely new to this. I've been on enough retreats (silent, women's and otherwise) to have lectio divina'ed with the best of them. I can dial down, hold thoughts, and sit with an open hand like nobody's business.

But I don't do it all the time.

So when Karen suggested that in this time of freaking out, I should really take time to meditate, I figured, why not, I've got the time. She suggested I read "Christian Meditation" by James Finley. They were out of them at Coles in the Mall, so I googled him, and now am in possession of a lovely PDF of an interview that he did with Gary Moon. He laid things out reasonably simply, although there isn't much simple about meditation - actually it's very simple and that's what makes it so hard.

I found my favorite chair, which now resides in Ben's room, and brought down some yogurt and granola (I don't know if you're allowed to eat yogurt and granola when you're meditating, probably not, although it does seem like food the mystics would have enjoyed) and picked a word to set my mind on.

My go to word in these situations is usually "Jesus" - go figure - but this time I thought I'd mix things up a bit and chose "love".  I set my timer for 25 minutes. That seems like a reasonable amount of time. I shut my eyes and started to dwell on my word.

Not long after I realize I have to pick granola out of my teeth. My tongue starts digging around and I'm wondering if this is considered multitasking while meditating.

The granola thing is now dealt with, and my attempt to experience the presence of God continues. That lasts for about 15 seconds and I start to giggle. You see, I have this rash on my arm, I've had it since about August. Way too long to have a rash. I did go to the Doctor and he gave me cream but it's still there 2 months later. I did some research and discovered that I've been putting vaginal yeast infection cream on my rash. That's probably why it's not really working. Anyway, the whole "vaginal yeast infection cream on my arm" thing is really quite funny and of course I'm distracted easily at the best of times. So the next 5 minutes of my precious meditation time was spent in utter bemusement.

Focus Beckie, focus.

Maybe I should sing. That could give me some spiritual direction. I'm a singer, surely there are lots of songs that could help guide me into oneness with my Creator.  Alas, the only song, and I mean ONLY song that my mind could think of was "No One Mourns the Wicked" from Wicked.

Good grief.

I check my timer. 9 minutes left. This isn't going well.

So I have more work to do around this. I think I will attempt it again, maybe tomorrow. And for today I will rest on this James Finley quote, "First, from the standpoint of contemplation, God’s invincible love for me is absolutely sovereign, regardless of the degree or the extent to which I respond to it or
not."

Nice. Or the amount which I'm able to concentrate or not.