This blog post is part of a series that I began for telling our story. You can read the first post here.
When I resumed this blog writing, I skipped over a LOT of ground. So allow me to back up and fill in some of the pieces.
Summer of 2010, we moved to Texas, and while my sister and her husband had a bunch of things happen with their health, we found out we were pregnant. That basically sums up where we were. As the school year began, we settled into a new routine. My husband acclimated to working in our new congregation and the school year schedule that went along with it. Having a school attached to a church does that. In fact, so much of our work life at that church revolved around what was happening in the school, but that’s an entirely different conversation…
His days were filled with teacher devotions (every morning at 8:00 am), chapel (every Wednesday morning, all morning long to accommodate various age groups), evening meetings with committees and boards… My days, on the other hand, were filled with a lot of nausea. I felt sick most of the day, and nothing but eating a little bit every couple of hours seemed to make me feel better.
Then at the beginning of October, my brother-in-law got an appointment to see a specialist in Houston. My husband, being the amateur travel-agent that he is, got him on a flight the day before and picked him up at the airport. My mother then helped my sister drive down over the course of a few days with the kids. Remember, my sister was still recovering from her horseback riding accident. At that point, I think she was mostly healed up and had been back home, but that long of a drive would have been pretty bad on her own, especially with her youngest at five months old.
At that point, the plan was for Mark to see the doctor and Allison to go back and forth a bit, eventually heading back home to Wisconsin. I don’t think Mark ever did go back that fall. As he went through tests and then treatments (he’s healthy now, no concerns on his health these days), I was pretty oblivious. Oh, and about a month after all of them arrived, I started working at the church. I was hired part-time to do DCE work, including youth ministry, Sunday school, and worship screens. Hm, that sounds familiar. Maybe because it’s what I always end up doing in churches…
I remember trying to teach youth Bible class on a Sunday morning while simultaneously trying to hold down my stomach. One of the young men looked at me and asked if there was anything he could do. I did my best to reassure him while I ate a granola bar. I don’t think he believed me. I’m still not sure what possessed me to start working when I felt so lousy, but the extra money was helpful and quite honestly, I have never been one to stay home very well. I get depressed from all the alone time. Ironic, since I am an introvert and need that to recharge. But too much alone time saps me of energy. Part time work was the best option for me, and working with my husband has always been our way of functioning.
Somehow, I pressed on into a new work routine, complete with all of the joys and heartaches of ministry…
Next post coming tomorrow.
Blooming Joy! 