who and where

Much of this morning has been passed looking through some old papers I'd written in school, and old emails between my husband and myself. Although I was on a quest for particular information, I've come away with a better understanding of myself. And a realization that I've lost some of myself along the way. Some of the very qualities and traits that I needed and relied on to get my current job have been slowly stamped out by it. Even my reasons for interviewing for it have been obscured and lost in my mind. It's no wonder I've been conflicted recently.

A few weeks ago, I asked for some help with finding balance. I needed the help, the advice and the guidance. Asking was difficult; revealing even harder. But hardest of all has been the homework. Eventually, I went back through my blog posts, looking for that place in my heart that had the balance I was missing. In all honesty, it took me a long time to do the reading. I don't often read my own work. I write, I proof, I submit. Every reading plucks a heartstring, and I get uncomfortable in my own tears.

A dear friend asked me why my spirituality is not represented on my resume. I don't know. I'm still trying to determine how it fits into my life. My research this morning delved into myself, and I see that the problem I have is one of being turned inside out. As my spirituality has grown and developed, I have gotten more and more willing to admit that I have always kept my faith separate from the rest of my life, and I've looked for ways to fit my faith into my life, with varying degrees of success.

I've got it all wrong.

What I really need to work on is fitting the rest of my life into my faith. That's where my disconnect and my discontent stem from. My primary vocation is as a child of God. As that child, I have been called to be a mother. As a mother in today's society, I need to work. While I must give to my work what is expected of me, I must have a position that allows me to fulfill and live the obligations of my motherhood. I was an organizer, an overseer, a thank you note writer and card sender. Now I live for the weekend; the days off, away from work. When did I become someone who doesn't live life every day? Someone who can't even identify beautiful moments throughout the day, unless there is no office in sight? When did I begin to find learning on my own, at home, to be a burden, a chore, something to squeeze in around everything else?

I have a habit of forgetting that God loves me; or, rather, forgetting to see, observe, and revel in that Love in my daily life. Last week I mentioned it at a retreat, and also that when I'm caught off guard by a sunrise, a sunset, Venus shining in the evening sky, I remember, and am filled with a special kind of joy. Throughout this week, despite the fact that I've been avoiding speaking to Jesus as a friend, I have been presented with these moments that I haven't seen myself. Twice this week, people have told me that they thought of me when the saw the sunrise. Last night, just as I was going to tell Guy about them, we turned a corner, and before me was a sunset I was not expecting to see--it seemed too early, and the sky was still pretty bright. It was amazingly beautiful, and brought me to tears. Where have I gone?