back again...
The Esther Project? A bust. I got through the first month and then floundered in the 2nd and now, almost 4 months after my initial excitement, I had forgotten all about it until I reopened this blog to add a new post.
August through the present time has been a harrowing, mummifying time for me. My father's continued treatment at Kessler and then transfer to a sub-acute facility (Franklin Care Center)...determining exactly which facility to transfer him to and then hating my choice. I say my choice, cause when it comes down to it, my mother didn't really have a clear idea of a choice based on our options. It was left to me and I chose based on the level of good therapy he would receive, still hoping beyond hope that by the end of his time in sub-acute he'd be able to walk out of the facility with little help other than a walker.
That doesn't look to be what will happen.
I hate that place. Well, I don't hate the whole place. The therapy is great and the general staff is very warm and loving. And in the final analysis that's what matters most. But I hate his room and that archaic, prison-like, rundown bathroom in his room. He hates the food, requesting take-out or food from home every chance he can get. My mother begrudgingly bringing it to him and still ranting about how bad he treated her, how she's not gonna be used and abused any more by him, how she's now gonna have a life, how he's not gonna come to the house needing any care that she has to give, cause she's not gonna wipe his ass or dress him, and on and on.
So, dealing with what I consider a poor decision on the place of his continued treatment, my mother's unbalanced mental and emotional state, my father's recent revelation that it was my mother that pushed him out of bed in the first place (while asleep and as a reflexive response to him moving too close to her in bed, which she despised), stress about my father not really progressing as I hoped, fear that I would eventually be responsible for all the ass wiping and dressing, helping to get him up and walking work that my mother won't do (and in reality, can't physically do - it will be my responsibility), gathering all the paperwork and filling out all the paperwork to apply for Medicaid for my father's likely move to a nursing home, gathering all the paperwork and filling out all the paperwork to get Jonathan enrolled in the Franklin Township Public School System so he can participate in its preschool program for early intervention when he turns 3, gathering all the paperwork and filling out all the paperwork for Jonathan's scheduled meeting with a developmental pediatrician on November 19th (as prescribed by the Township's preschool program) AND dealing with finding Jonathan a new preschool for the fall, concerns about getting Kay to pay for said preschool once found, and Jonathan's continued participation in the Early Intervention program and the fact he's in that stupid program in the first place, AND the fact that my father's fall in May completely derailed by dream of a sabbatical year spent finding out what is the next thing for me to do, despite the Lord's word to me way back in like March that that next thing is some crazy vocation focused on marriage and family NOT my dream of writing, research or academia, yet ignoring that "word" to try to pursue maybe part of my original dream by becoming a teacher (maybe) through the NYC Teaching Collaborative (and its tedious application process), but not really wanting to be a teacher, but really, truly, wanting, as I've always wanted since I was a little girl, to be a full-time writer of fiction or creative non-fiction - yet never really getting any support of that pursuit in the many rejections to writing programs and God's continued rejection of putting a good solid idea in my head to write AND my money almost running out with no prospect of a job or a stupid husband that I don't really want that the Lord seems to be promising is on his way to fulfill this call He has on my life for marriage and family - namely family in the form of caring for invalid/senior parents and in-laws and small children (confirmed through his word - twice), including another, promised child from my womb (again, confirmed through His word - twice) -- all that?
has left me emotionally, mentally, spent, numb...
Mummified - almost.
Oh, and I'm also 15 lbs heavier, my hair is thinning and I'm premenapausal: spotting daily, having to change pantyliners a few times a day, and the spotting emitting a foul odor that leaves me incredibly self-conscious that anyone who comes near me thinks that I stink - and none of these things leave me feeling at all sexy or wanting to be affectionate with the opposite sex in any way, shape or form. I see a life as a celibate being a great future. Just me and Jonathan. No obligations to a man, no sharing space, time or energy, no worry about someone else's feelings or desires (in an intimate way like how you have to in marriage), none of that long-suffering and patience required in marriage, no provision of my body for sex which I really don't like. Yuck! Marriage as a vocation? Caring for elderly folks as a vocation? NO!!!
Nevertheless, I still want A VOCATION. One right for me. Why can't it be the one I've dreamed of all my life or most of my life? Why can't I be a writer...a full-time, published, making a good-living, but in a private, Ann Tyler kind of way, award-winning writer??
Foolish.
I haven't written anything of substance in years. I barely keep up with my blog or my notebook journals. A writer writes. He or she doesn't dream about writing. A writer reads. He or she doesn't have 10+ half-read books either surrounding her bed or on her Kindle waiting to be finished.
And yet, I get full of emotion and tied up in knots whenever I read about writers or the writing craft - hear about some new best-seller and the person behind it or some old best seller and the person behind it. I want to be a person behind a good book. A book that speaks to multitudes. A book that illicits some sort of change or at least thoughtfulness on the part of the reader.
What is that book?
Memoir? About what?
Fiction? Again - what??
I so wish the Lord had opened the door for me to purse an MFA pre-Jonathan, when life was relatively free-living and responsibilities were few. I'm down to very little ready cash. I'm depending on the manifestation of a decent profit on my 401K so that I can withdraw enough to keep it at a prescribed base. I don't want to touch that base. I'm hoping for a tax refund of a specific number so that I can combine it to that 401K profit and my current funds and thus have at least enough money to live on until the end of the 18 month period I thought I would need to get to that next thing (that would be August 2014).
I feel stuck. I can't really move from my parent's home cause of my father and how I will likely need to be around to assist him (even if he's in a nursing home) and my mother. Plus, I simply don't have the money to move. I also want Jonathan to remain close to my parents. I'd like to stay in NJ for the time-being. There are no decent writing programs in this state. Even if there were, I probably wouldn't be accepted. I want to write, but I have nothing to write about or at least, I can't seem to think of anything right now.
Just hopeless.
So, do I just lie down and take the word given to me and accept it? God is faithful to His word, so He will perform it, despite any doubt or misgivings I might have (look at Sarah: she laughed, but Isaac came anyway). So the husband is likely gonna come, elderly parents to take care of are part of my future (and present), another child to raise is on his way (which I do welcome and would love - just not with the husband to have to share space, time, home - ugh - life and my body with). Why can't I get a dream like Stephanie Myer or Meyer, or however you spell that Twilight writer's name. Well, no, I don't want a dream without the ability to truly write, and apparently Stephanie can't write. And I don't want to write primarily to teens or sad, lonely women fantasying about some fantastical love affair. I don't just want a bestseller. I want to be known as a writer of merit - as a unique voice - with unique insights and understanding of human nature - who also manages to weave throughout her writings a reverence and awe of a God who makes absolutely no real sense to the human brain and yet offers and does so much for us - even without asking - but which we tend to take for granted, ignore, or despise. I despise it a lot. Really a lot. I don't want most of what He offers beyond that which enables me to keep breathing and capable of mind and body to wake up, eat, see, talk, hear, move, care for Jonathan, sleep, care for others at times, be somewhat kind and giving. The rest that He gives, like His own prescribed answer to vocation or calling - or having to deal with a relative's stupid fall out of a stupid bed in the middle of MY year - Nah, I don't want that. Yet He does give it freely. "How much more will He give of you good things AND Jesus to those who ask?" Geez, why is marriage and family considered a good thing for me? Giving me more of Jesus - cool. That is good. Give me the skills, fortitude, diligence and motivation to be a successful writer. That would also be good. I don't want this other marriage and family stuff that You are throwing at me, God.
Now, if you were to ask me what I'd like You to give me, well, not to be overly persistent or irritating, but here are some things I'd LOVE to blessed with or others close to me to be blessed with, beyond the gifts that You already and so generously give (as listed above):
Can You please heal my father in a more complete way (well, what we consider a more complete way)? Pleeeaasse, Lord. Such as:
Get him up with his own ability and strength to get up - not with assistance.
Give him the ability to get to a toilet on his own to piss and poop.
Give him the ability to dress himself.
Give my mother the ability to live with him in harmony and not anger, resentment and regret.
Give my mother real joy on the inside.
Give my dad further humility and increased joy in his natural sanguine-ness.
Free me and Jonathan to build a home of our home - finally.
Grow Jonathan up into a solid, intelligent, gifted, athletic, creative, giving, servant-hearted, Chirst-centered man. Protect him, without not even a bone ever being broken on his body.
Enable Jonathan to KNOW in his deepest parts, from a very young age the depth, breath, and height of Your love for him as his true Father.
Fulfill your word to give me a long life - a fulfilling, long life.
Make me into that writer I long to be. Give me your kind of success in it. Move in me to write in such a way that the prose produced moves others - even beyond my human years on this earth.
Make Jonathan an example of Godliness to his generation and his family the legacy of Christ-centeredness that will follow him and his betrothed.
Put GOOD men in my single friend's lives who want to be married and get them married.
Those who want children, like Lolita, give them children.
Save those people in my life who aren't saved, like Bill and Brandon, Yoan and Maria.
Put funds in my hands to keep giving to the spread of the Gospel - you've given me the gift of financial giving. I NEED BUCKS!
If I'm to be this wife you're saying I'm gonna be- well, give me a heart to be her. I don't have that heart now nor do I want it. But since You are faithful to Your word and will perform it, thus the husband is coming, and I believe that You are faithful to Your word and can bring him, then I need to have a heart to be her - so give me that heart.
I don't know who he is. I hope he's not Kay or anyone that I already know. Someone else. Someone suitable. Someone presently alone, like Adam. Or, whatever - whoever it is You deem it to be. I have no idea. Again, I don't even want him.
What a crazy post. I had a lot on my mind and I had to get it off my chest. To others probably one of the most self-centered, self-focused blog posts in the history of blog posts. Nonetheless:
Blogs are awesome! Thank you for my blog, Lord!
