feast your eyes upon the field where I grow my craps; as you can see, my field is barren
Oh, friends, it has been one of those days (weeks?).
The sky and I have had a lot in common the past few days as we've both decided (simultaneously but separately) to start giving exactly zero craps, wailing and thundering at random times of the day, whenever we feel like it.
Being 92% funded is both wildly exciting and wholly depressing. We have nothing to do. We have a few contacts left and if they miraculously get back to me, then we will have maybe a few hours of work to do and then we will find ourselves again with nothing to do, staring into oblivion and probably deciding upon another episode of Seinfeld, which has been our only anchor to the sea of sanity the past few months.
We work from home, and so work at this point includes staring at my computer screen in my pajamas praying for God to give me an idea of something productive to do. Many times He's come through, but this week, ya'll, I have been scraping at the bottom of the barrel and I'm probably wrong but it feels like God's like, "Yeah idk either guys." Then, at approximately 3:00 pm, I get dressed in anticipation of our roommates coming home because it would be horrible for them to know the truth of my day.
I then make iced coffee (because what else am I going to do with my time off?) and leave the glass in my bedroom because remember, I'm now giving zero craps. Leftover cream is currently curdling behind my head as I type this. Our roommates arrive home from a productive day at work, and I shamefully avoid them so as to not let on to the seeming worthlessness of the day. Many times we will run our errands for more toothpaste at this time so our roommates will think "Oh, they aren't home now, they must be doing something important for support raising." Nope, I'm just off buying new shaving cream because I need to do that once in awhile to rekindle motivation to shave my legs.
And on the days where we do have appointments, Jon looks at me in bewilderment as I put on jeans for the first time in days.
"Why are you wearing lipstick, Whitney?"
BECAUSE THIS IS MY ONLY EXCUSE TO LOOK LIKE A HUMAN JUST LET ME BE.
Today we took off because we normally take Wednesdays off. We almost didn't take today off because it feels like we haven't been working all week (unless of course you've been logging the staring at the screen + praying hours), but decided to just take it off so we wouldn't feel guilty about not working.
Days off are tricky for us because we don't really need to rest. I'm already spending every other day in my pajamas, reading my afternoons away, not brushing my teeth until after lunch, so days off are actually more stressful for us as we must figure out something to do. Today it was raining and we are saving our allotted date money for later in the week so our options were once again limited. I sat on the couch, at 11 am, staring at the wall, wondering how we would pass the hours that day. Jon tried to sit next to me and comfort me but words wouldn't come out of his mouth either so we sat there in desperation and silence and these were never the trials I expected I'd face within support raising.
I almost resorted to suggesting that we just go to WalMart and walk around, but I was able to come to grips with the pitiful implications of this suggestion before it came out and stopped myself. I opted for the hippier option and suggested walking around Barnes & Noble for awhile, hoping this might even produce a cute rainy-day-bookstore instagram (never happened).
I got home and checked my email in hopes that I could do some work on my day off and earn extra points with the already well-disappointed critic in my head, but no one got back to me because that seems to be the one consistent thing about people: they actually don't care about your feelings at all and will let you hang on the thread of possibility that you'll one day get back to them with interest in your ministry but let's be honest they're never going to respond.
The Lord has been providing some appointments though (just enough to keep us from spiraling into delusion) and we have been treating these like meetings with the Queen. We have to bridle our excitement and not scare these people away because I've emailed them 15 times so they may already hate us.
We say, "we are at 92%!" with plastered-on smiles because we know it sounds pretty freakin awesome. They respond, "That's great!" We nod politely, knowing they don't understand. 92% is not great. 92% is the exact opposite of great. It is the worst it has been since the beginning. 92% is enough to keep us trying to work, but is also slowly eating away at our souls. We have gaping holes in our souls from the rats of worthlessness or the worms of boredom or the bunnies of distrust or whatever metaphoric animal you'd like to insert; I've never really liked the zoo. The highlight of my day is that my bangs looked really good--my one remaining shred of dignity.
We have clung to prayer because we have nothing else. Our charisma is replaced with nervous social awkwardness from a lack of socializing. Our calm confidence is now a frazzled daze. Our bold, spiritual prayers are now undecipherable grunts for strength or hope or peace or whatever You've got, Lord. He reminds me that this is all Him anyway, that this last 8% will be Him and not us and I'm starting to get that better now as I'm twitching in the corner.
It says somewhere that when we are weak, He is strong, right? Okay, Lord, pour on the strength, then. Drench us in Your strength because ours drained out through the holes in our souls from the rats/worms/bunnies.
Just please don't mess up my bangs.
The sky and I have had a lot in common the past few days as we've both decided (simultaneously but separately) to start giving exactly zero craps, wailing and thundering at random times of the day, whenever we feel like it.
Being 92% funded is both wildly exciting and wholly depressing. We have nothing to do. We have a few contacts left and if they miraculously get back to me, then we will have maybe a few hours of work to do and then we will find ourselves again with nothing to do, staring into oblivion and probably deciding upon another episode of Seinfeld, which has been our only anchor to the sea of sanity the past few months.
We work from home, and so work at this point includes staring at my computer screen in my pajamas praying for God to give me an idea of something productive to do. Many times He's come through, but this week, ya'll, I have been scraping at the bottom of the barrel and I'm probably wrong but it feels like God's like, "Yeah idk either guys." Then, at approximately 3:00 pm, I get dressed in anticipation of our roommates coming home because it would be horrible for them to know the truth of my day.
I then make iced coffee (because what else am I going to do with my time off?) and leave the glass in my bedroom because remember, I'm now giving zero craps. Leftover cream is currently curdling behind my head as I type this. Our roommates arrive home from a productive day at work, and I shamefully avoid them so as to not let on to the seeming worthlessness of the day. Many times we will run our errands for more toothpaste at this time so our roommates will think "Oh, they aren't home now, they must be doing something important for support raising." Nope, I'm just off buying new shaving cream because I need to do that once in awhile to rekindle motivation to shave my legs.
And on the days where we do have appointments, Jon looks at me in bewilderment as I put on jeans for the first time in days.
"Why are you wearing lipstick, Whitney?"
BECAUSE THIS IS MY ONLY EXCUSE TO LOOK LIKE A HUMAN JUST LET ME BE.
Today we took off because we normally take Wednesdays off. We almost didn't take today off because it feels like we haven't been working all week (unless of course you've been logging the staring at the screen + praying hours), but decided to just take it off so we wouldn't feel guilty about not working.
Days off are tricky for us because we don't really need to rest. I'm already spending every other day in my pajamas, reading my afternoons away, not brushing my teeth until after lunch, so days off are actually more stressful for us as we must figure out something to do. Today it was raining and we are saving our allotted date money for later in the week so our options were once again limited. I sat on the couch, at 11 am, staring at the wall, wondering how we would pass the hours that day. Jon tried to sit next to me and comfort me but words wouldn't come out of his mouth either so we sat there in desperation and silence and these were never the trials I expected I'd face within support raising.
I almost resorted to suggesting that we just go to WalMart and walk around, but I was able to come to grips with the pitiful implications of this suggestion before it came out and stopped myself. I opted for the hippier option and suggested walking around Barnes & Noble for awhile, hoping this might even produce a cute rainy-day-bookstore instagram (never happened).
I got home and checked my email in hopes that I could do some work on my day off and earn extra points with the already well-disappointed critic in my head, but no one got back to me because that seems to be the one consistent thing about people: they actually don't care about your feelings at all and will let you hang on the thread of possibility that you'll one day get back to them with interest in your ministry but let's be honest they're never going to respond.
The Lord has been providing some appointments though (just enough to keep us from spiraling into delusion) and we have been treating these like meetings with the Queen. We have to bridle our excitement and not scare these people away because I've emailed them 15 times so they may already hate us.
We say, "we are at 92%!" with plastered-on smiles because we know it sounds pretty freakin awesome. They respond, "That's great!" We nod politely, knowing they don't understand. 92% is not great. 92% is the exact opposite of great. It is the worst it has been since the beginning. 92% is enough to keep us trying to work, but is also slowly eating away at our souls. We have gaping holes in our souls from the rats of worthlessness or the worms of boredom or the bunnies of distrust or whatever metaphoric animal you'd like to insert; I've never really liked the zoo. The highlight of my day is that my bangs looked really good--my one remaining shred of dignity.
We have clung to prayer because we have nothing else. Our charisma is replaced with nervous social awkwardness from a lack of socializing. Our calm confidence is now a frazzled daze. Our bold, spiritual prayers are now undecipherable grunts for strength or hope or peace or whatever You've got, Lord. He reminds me that this is all Him anyway, that this last 8% will be Him and not us and I'm starting to get that better now as I'm twitching in the corner.
It says somewhere that when we are weak, He is strong, right? Okay, Lord, pour on the strength, then. Drench us in Your strength because ours drained out through the holes in our souls from the rats/worms/bunnies.
Just please don't mess up my bangs.
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