Sputtering

My husband Brad and I recently added 15 more hives to our bee "farm."  The hives spent the night in the bee shop before Brad set them up the next day.  After work, I drove over to see the set up hives.   and them over to our bee "farm." I duly admired my husband's hard work, and after doing so, took a rest inside our cozy bee shop and began to notice a few straggler bees sputtering against the inside windows trying to escape. Being the soft hearted animal lover, I shooed them out, but they dropped to the ground and did nothing.  Brad informed me that they won't find their hives as they were separated during the transport and were left behind in the garage.  They will just aimlessly sputter around and die, purposeless. I know it's ridiculous to feel sad about them, but I did.  And I began thinking that I have been like one of those sputtering bees these past few years.

I began working full time almost four years ago for the first time since 1991(!), developed a chronic illness, underwent a handful of surgeries, struggled with lots of anxiety and depression, and had my son and his family move overseas.   And while I have much to be thankful for (family, food, shelter, friends, healthcare), the battle drags on and on, some days worse than others.  I have lost touch with the Christian community, simply because I have nothing left for community.  Weekends are spent trying to rest to gear up for the next week of work and to eke out the bare minimum of chores to maintain near chaos.  Hobbies have died. Exercise has gone by the wayside as I'm either too tired, in too much pain, or unable to force myself to do it, though rationally I know it's mandatory for my condition.  I manage a couple days of light pilates and walking and that's about it.  My doc wants part time work for me at the most, but it doesn't exist with sufficient pay and healthcare, so I drag myself from bed another day to repeat an endless, medication-driven, weary loop.

I didn't start this to create sympathy, honestly.  I just need to get real, with myself and the world, as that's how I roll.   I pray daily for a miracle job to fall in my lap-that requires 20 hours a week and pays $50 an hour, plus killer benefits. I beg for Jesus' second coming so I can escape without having to make the hard decisions- for Him to descend and yank me out of my sinkhole.

I still have good, productive days, but my full time stressful management job is essentially "ruining" my life. It is the only activity that I can regularly manage and as such the rest of my life has fallen to dust. I just can't live like this anymore. I neglect time with Jesus, with the Church (other believers), close friends and family. I have aging parents I need to visit and maintain connection with; they will not be here forever and I can't handle missing out on the rest of their lives.  I have God-given gifts in storage for when I'm all done running this marathon, but guess what?  I don't have the assurance of time after the marathon; I only have today.  I am tired, deeply sad, missing my life-the one that God has given me, in exchange for the life I'm forcing myself to trudge through.  Why did this get so hard?  Maybe it became hard because I have  strayed and Jesus is getting my attention.   Maybe the problem isn't my health issues, but my mindset, the one that insists I have safety and the known familiar rather than the unknown, uncertain circumstance.  I have locked myself into work as I fear the loss of money, freedom and healthcare.  Maybe it's time to say "done" and let it be so, let the chips fall where they may...

I couldn't sleep last night until nearly 3:30 am, so I didn't wake up until almost 10 this morning. As I drank my coffee I turned on the TBN channel for a Sunday sermon and tuned into Jesse Duplantis preach about...FEAR!  How fear paralyzes us and completely blocks the blessings of God.  He read several scriptures, but one smacked me in the middle of the forehead: Psalm 27:1:

      The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?

As Jesse continued to speak, I received "light" as illumination of my path, "salvation" as "preservation from loss, ruin or harm" (Google dictionary), and "stronghold" as "fortified protection."  For Jesus knows what I'm made up of. The fragile clay that He loving formed into my shape and person. I'm not living true to my shape, and it's all due to fear.  Fear I'll lose financial independence, status, healthcare, good friends/coworkers that I've met and treasure. Fear of shame and stigma. Fear that if I post a good day's photo of a doable adventure, fear of criticism. Fear my spouse and I will fight about money.  Is this fear enough currency to keep me bound to pain and grief, struggle and stress?

Am I called to my current situation, or am I being forced out of it into my real calling?  I long for peace, serenity, time to pour over the Word and seek the face and heart of Jesus so I can make Him known.  I have become a stressed, task focused, distracted person, who can only look at the pile on my desk and feel cortisol ramp ever higher. i have no time for contemplation, or to notice the eyes of someone hurting and offer them a drink from the well of the Master, and it makes me so sad.  I was made for lengthy times of solitude to hear from Jesus and to proclaim the treasures He reveals.
I was not created to be a money-making machine. I was created to bring forth the glory of the Lord, and when that isn't happening, it's time for soul searching; it's time for change.