I sobbed in front of the open pink trunk I’d stolen borrowed from my sister. The dinged silver edges and worn interior matched the beating I’d verbally given myself. The cold kitchen tile seeped through my thin pajamas. With muster, I kicked the side of the case.
I needed to quit crying.
I needed to buck up.
I needed a shower.
“God—answer me,” I cried in my head…not wanting to distract my toddlers who were happily ignoring me with Legos. “I’m in the depths of despair.”
When you start quoting Anne of Green Gables in your prayers, there may be a problem.
My quest for fulfillment wove through three beautiful baby boys, a husband I adored, his youth ministry that I lived vicariously through him as a sponsor, an eight-year stint in one direct sales company and a two-year stretch in another.
I was proudly a WAHM – Work at Home Mom – but somehow it wasn’t enough, and that left gaping ugly guilt holes in my heart.
I’d waited for answers—searching for what God wanted from me.
Desperate to stretch my brain and implement our income, my husband and I made the heart-wrenching bittersweet decision that I would go back to work full-time…for a short while.
The temp agency placed me quickly, and while I enjoyed recognition for my own work, slipping out of the house so as to not wake sleeping babies and occasionally dragging myself in after an evening direct sales presentation took its toll.
For nine long months, I watched my one-year-old grow rapidly before my eyes…my three year-old talk more and more…my five-year-old start kindergarten.
I was missing it.
Read the rest here at Mary Vee’s “Fabulous Friday” where I’m guest posting today! I’m giving away a paperback or e-copy of my book. Details on her page.