I've got Peace Like a River

I am forcing myself to sit in front of the computer and type this all out. I wouldn't call what I'm feeling denial, or sadness; though being suddenly without a job is a change that needs to be processed. I've spent the past 2 days in a flurry of action: 2 different soups, 3 batches of bagels, and tomato sauce made from scratch and frozen, counter top cleaned, phone calls made, tackling the basement. Things I've not have time to do are getting done. The kids are enjoying their last week of full time school while I'm getting the house in order and prepping for future meals. But I haven't really thought about it.

And I should.

Five and a half years is a long time to spend in any relationship. Prior to this job, I had spent time as a vagabond for various nonprofit causes. A year here, eighteen months there, and when the term had ended, always thinking "what next?"

My most recent job was a curious blend of rewarding and deadening. I haven't written about it here much. This blog is for family stuff, and while my job was part of the family (especially after it moved in with us in January), it just wasn't a positive force in my life, so I left out those details. Basically, as long as I could consider my clients as the people I worked for, I was happy.

I don't know what's next. Something in between licking my wounds for a bit (for the loss, as well as processing a self-guilt thing for staying for as long as I did) and kicking back and enjoying a sabbatical. My friend Mandy gave me permission to take some time to be conscious about things, and I only realized yesterday how much that meant to me. So, for now, you'll find me in between those 2 extremes.

I have been spending little moments with Willa, before her final kiss of the day, lying next to her in my old twin bed and talking about and to God. We discuss what we were grateful for for that day, and what we might need help with the next day. And we tell/ask God. She tells me she's shy to talk to God, so she asks me to tell God things for her. This is a new thing for us. I love it. Last night while I was walking out, she asked me, "Mama? Did I make God smile today?"

I like her.

Henry, too, is getting some of my refocused God thing. Before lying him down, I hold him and sing this old song. A little slower than those talented ladies, no clapping, and no robes. We found the song on an Elizabeth Mitchell CD, and I've used it as a hymn of centering. For weeks, that melody calmed a crying Henry. I've written before about how the act of singing while faced with a crying child has been calming for both parties. This song does it. Every time.

I don't know if - by freeing up some space in my life - I have more room to think and be grateful - or just be... Maybe it's the lifting of the burden of a job that I dreaded, the release from a boss who gave me hives. Or maybe I'm just happy because I'm able to do what I want to do for a while until possibly another next thing comes my way. It's an incredible feeling of freedom and serenity and I sometimes catch myself grinning while chopping carrots.

This is all to say, I am good. And stay tuned.