responding to the unheard call

We missed church this morning, but I've been thinking about a sermon from two weeks ago in which we were challenged to think about what we are called to do.  For my entire spiritual life, I've wondered about what I'm called to do and how I would know when it happens.  Even at 45, I find that I still wonder, "What is my purpose on this earth, in this life?"  On the way home from church, I realized that I do know what I was called to do--and that I've been doing it in ways for years.  Even before I recognized the call, I had responded to it.

I thought about the things I have given my time to during my adult life.  As a fairly young adult in grad school, I always made extra time for the young women in my classes when they alluded to abuse, rape, or assault.  I provided chocolate and tissues and walked them to counselors' offices.  Even before that, I sat with friends in high school and college and provided hugs, a shoulder to cry on, and an ear to listen.  As a mom of young kids, I organized a group for working moms who needed support in their lives.  I became a peer counselor for Sidelines to support women on bedrest with twin pregnancies.  And now I'm part of Hystersisters.  All of these things have given me a feeling of peace and rightness.

For more than 25 years, supporting women is the one thing I've made time for continuously.  Other things have grabbed my attention for a few months or years.  Then they passed out of my life.  It is only now, as I am able to stand back and look at the tapestry of more than two decades, that I can see the pattern that has emerged.
I was called to minister to women--but I don't remember hearing any call at all.  At what point did God say, "This is what thou shalt do?"  At what point did I say, "Yes, I accept?"  God called to my spirit, and it responded joyously, albeit somewhat obliviously.  Did any of our Bible figures respond to a call with as much cluelessness as I did.  Does it count as accepting the call when you don't know you've done so?  I think so, but it's an odd feeling to know that I didn't recognize what life I've been living until I was halfway through it.

In other news, there's still no news on the unemployment front.  Hubster still has no job and unemployment benefits run out soon.  Lots of stress there.  At the same time, though, it's a beautiful sunny day, and we have friends taking us out for a late brunch today at Thunder Bay Grille.  We are so fortunate that the huge rain that hit Milwaukee and caused such horrible flooding didn't hit us.  If our power had gone out for more than 10 second, we would have lost sump pumps and our messy cluttered basement would've been a disaster.  Our basement is dry, our basement walls are intact, and the sun is shining.

it's my party and I'll cry if I want to

After 15 months, my husband is still unemployed.  I find that I am really struggling with that right now--largely because of the money issue but also because I feel like I'm starting to lose my sense of self with him at home all the time.

God has placed some conversations into my life over the past couple days.  One was with a woman I know through HysterSisters who has been dealing with similar issues with her own husband.  I had forgotten how healing it was to know that there's at least one other person who understands how hard it is to try to be supportive of a man while trying to heal and deal with your own grief and anxiety.  The other conversation was with my mother, who says things I don't like to hear but that I already know.  These two very different conversations have allowed me to finally say,

• "I'm stressed."
• "I feel resentful."
• "I don't know how much longer I can live like this."
• "Is there another line of work I am qualified for that would pay more?"

It surprised me that I haven't actually been able to say these things until now.  I'm so angry.  There isn't a thing I can do to get my husband a job or to change how he approaches anything or get him to do more around the house or in the community.

What I've realized is that I have no place to be me.  There is no "my place" anywhere.  Everywhere in the house there are people and there are sounds.  I'm going to end up tackling the basement--but there is so much crap down there that belongs to my husband that I know I'll be dealing with resentment there, too.

I don't see that I have any choice, though.  It's an ugly and dark space that smells bad, and it's hardly a place I can consider a sanctuary for myself.  But I am so craving alone time--to read, to write, to nap, to daydream.

Since my husband lost his job, the financial impact on our family has been horrific.   But I am finally realizing that with him home all the time, I have been losing pieces of me as well.  And I have to find them again and try to glue myself back together or the whole family will fall apart.

It's so hard to be the backbone of the family when all I want to do is melt into a ball and be taken care of myself.