6 months ago
While in the hospital, I lay in bed crying at the words " It looks like your son may be coming early. If he does, he won't make it. By chance he does make it, we will have to fly him to Dallas because we are not equipped". Fear shook my body and rivers of pain ran down my face as I listened to these words echo in my ears like resounding gongs. I began to beg God for forgiveness and for mercy. I had returned to work even though He told me not to.
My thoughts raced back to a few months before, I had heard the instruction. I had felt the weight of the words hit my chest, but fear of what others would say and that those close to me would believe me to be insane, led me to work. I felt I was being punished until I heard the words, "Full Term". That was all I needed.
Fast forward to two days ago
"Let's do it," I said after watched the video posted above and finally made the decision to "Jump". I was going to believe in my ability and trust the push that I was feeling in my soul and go for my dream. I had been praying for about a week seeking direction and with my darling son gazing into my eyes saying, "Protect me Mommy. Don't leave me. Don't drop me off. Pursue your passion and then we can be together. Write. Write. Write."
Rewind to November 2014
Mike and I decided to have children. I soon had a dream where I was sitting in front of a long window with white blinds and there was a darling baby boy at my side. I was pregnant with another little joy ( a girl this time to be named Zion) as I walked behind my desk. I was a writer. I had a career. I was at home. I was a wife. I was a mom. I was living in love protecting those who were mine while operating in a passion that was mine. Writing.
Fast forward to my now
After months of mind thwarting, emotional bed rest, a crazy c-section and 9 weeks of being with my son, I am in a love that wraps me up consuming the fibers of my being, ignites the Mama Bear within, and I can't turn back. I applaude every mom out there who has had to muster up all of their faith and strength to trust the hands of someone else to look after their most precious ones while the responsibilities of life beckoned them to the force. I commend them for being stronger than me. I can't imagine all of the crocodile tears that have been cried on the way to work after spending 10 months carrying a precious stranger, 6 to 8 weeks meeting and falling in love with them as they zap your energy and destroy your body only to leave that angel in flesh in someone elses crib praying that all goes well. I've tried to fathom it but I can't. I said I'd do it but I can't. No matter how many super strong successful women tell me, "It's just what we do. Many have done it and many will continue to do it... You just have to do it... it will all be fine," I hear them (some judgementally) say.
I can't do it, but I can JUMP.
Rewind to the charge.
Mike and I were on the way home when I felt this overwhelming push to pray. As I prayed, I saw a baby boy with light around him being lowered into my hands. Once lowered, I heard a still, strong, small voice say "I'm giving you this child to protect. The enemy satan does not want him here and will try to destroy him. He is special. I am entrusting him into your hands."
Fast Forward to yesterday
Sitting in front of a long window I receive a letter that in a nutshell tells me that I must resign as I have failed to return back to work in the time allotted. My plan was to come back in May after what I thought I had was 12 weeks but thats a no go I only get 8. Now, I absolutely love my profession and I hope somehow I can continue to enrich, inspire, and entertain various groups of students in some capacity for the rest of my life. However, right now, all signs are pointing to jump.
As I watch my husband leave for work this morning head high and shoulders broad carrying the weight of our family, I weep. As I look into the eyes of our beautiful son whom I've been divinely charged to protect, I weep. As I look into the mirror at the woman who can either jump or live trying to ignore the burning in her soul, I weep. As the answering machine has student loan agents threatening wages I don't have, I weep. As months of medical bills crash against my mind like ocean waves, I weep. As I think of all I have dreamt of being and all I feel I have yet to become. I weep. I am scared.
I am not at a fork in the road; I am at a turning point. I have prayed and prayed for direction and now in this moment of life, I have been directed to this pedestal in this trapeze act and the safety net has just be cut out from under me. I have no choice. Either I stand and stay semi-safely in this moment forever or I jump towards the bar head.
I must jump, but I am scared.
But, then I think of jumping into passion and evolving into my most authentic self, under the wings of the Savior (who has never failed) and I smile. I think of My Father who gave his son for me. A Christ who promised to never leave or forsake. My Provider who has made plenty in my life time and time again from nothing. My Creator who knows me inside, out, and in between [ evidenced by the husband he gifted me that is better than my sweetest dream]. In my fear, I trust the passion He placed on my insides. I trust the Spirit He has left in and with me that has directed me safely thus far. I will JUMP no strings attached, because if I don't JUMP now, I never will.
(Faith wouldn't be faith without Fear.)