Writing is hard when you are filled with deep dark emotions.
Actually, writing is perhaps easiest at that point. It's the sharing of those writings that is incredible difficult. And, though I have been compiling a big list of things I want to say, I'm not ready to say them publicly. Yet. I'll get there. Because authenticity is one of the character traits I desire most in my own life, and in the lives of others.
But, tonight, on a lighter note, I just wanted to share a little moment of happy I had.
Tonight, I was sitting in my newly rearranged house, in the little room that we now have entitled the study. This is the room that welcomes the guests into our house, and it is frequently used, and there are signs of that all around. One particular give away is the broken blind that is hanging on the front door. The top part of the blind is intact, but several little fingers and hands have tugged at the bottom and there is about a 15" gap which you can see through the window.
I was making myself busy preparing dinner, hopping back and forth between the computer in the study and the stove in the kitchen. Back and forth I would go, trying to multitask. One time, as I sat down to check something of dire importance on the computer (let's face it, it was a FB message about tonight's girl's night out plans!) I saw a cute little freckled face peering through the gap. It's the perfect height for her look in and observe what I was doing. She raised her eyebrows at me and grinned.
And, it was then, that I smiled at her. As soon as the smile has formed on my lips, I felt the heaviness of the day begin to flee. I I had a message in my mind for that little girl that I wanted to convey with my smile. "I love you little girl. I want to hug you. I'm so glad you are mine. You are a blessing to me, and I'm so happy to be your mommy." I know that seems like a lot for a smile, but today was a dark day. A hard day. And, that smile was not only to give Lydia hope, but to stir some hope up in me too.
I'm thankful that during days when I cry so hard, I am unable to function, that God gives me rest.
I'm smiling because when I feel lonely and unloveable, God provides friends.
I'm hopeful that even though I have lost my dad, I still get to be a mom.
So, I will keep on smiling. Especially at my kids.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
The Sting of Rejection
Word on the street is "the letter is in the mail."
I interviewed my little heart out last Thursday for a job that I *thought* was destined to be mine. I waited a few days and I had heard nothing---so, I did what all the websites and job interview experts tell you to do. I made a follow up phone call.
In my cheeriest voice, I announced my name, my interview date, and the reason I was calling. "I was really interested in the job. Did you have any other questions for me, or have you already filled the position?"
There was a brief pause and a moment of awkwardness. And, then, she laid the truth all out there. "We have already filled the position. We sent you a letter in the mail."
So, I guess tomorrow, or maybe the next day I can be reminded of my failure too.
Okay, that last sentence sounded so dark, but I'm kind of feeling that way right now. The rejection stings right now. It really does. I am questioning what about me wasn't good enough for that position. I am tempted to call myself inadequate and undeserving. The word 'loser' has tossed itself around my mind a few times too. It's hard not to take a job rejection personally.
But, on the flip side, I'm actually really grateful as well. Interviewing is an incredibly vulnerable thing to do, and even though I struggle with fear, anxiety and 'putting myself out there,' I did it. I spent time focusing on my good qualities and how those attributes would benefit a work environment. I was brave. I focused on the future. I worked beyond my anxiety and insecurities, and I took steps towards a rewarding future for myself.
I really do think that some day I will make an awesome receptionist or customer service representative. Until then, I will keep being the best Jesus follower, wife, mom, daughter, writer, VBS director, babysitter, neighbor, friend, and person I can be. And, I'll try focusing on the positives until this fresh sting dies down a bit.
I interviewed my little heart out last Thursday for a job that I *thought* was destined to be mine. I waited a few days and I had heard nothing---so, I did what all the websites and job interview experts tell you to do. I made a follow up phone call.
In my cheeriest voice, I announced my name, my interview date, and the reason I was calling. "I was really interested in the job. Did you have any other questions for me, or have you already filled the position?"
There was a brief pause and a moment of awkwardness. And, then, she laid the truth all out there. "We have already filled the position. We sent you a letter in the mail."
So, I guess tomorrow, or maybe the next day I can be reminded of my failure too.
Okay, that last sentence sounded so dark, but I'm kind of feeling that way right now. The rejection stings right now. It really does. I am questioning what about me wasn't good enough for that position. I am tempted to call myself inadequate and undeserving. The word 'loser' has tossed itself around my mind a few times too. It's hard not to take a job rejection personally.
But, on the flip side, I'm actually really grateful as well. Interviewing is an incredibly vulnerable thing to do, and even though I struggle with fear, anxiety and 'putting myself out there,' I did it. I spent time focusing on my good qualities and how those attributes would benefit a work environment. I was brave. I focused on the future. I worked beyond my anxiety and insecurities, and I took steps towards a rewarding future for myself.
I really do think that some day I will make an awesome receptionist or customer service representative. Until then, I will keep being the best Jesus follower, wife, mom, daughter, writer, VBS director, babysitter, neighbor, friend, and person I can be. And, I'll try focusing on the positives until this fresh sting dies down a bit.
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