<</div>Free Fall
I just stepped off my ledge.
I loved my ledge. My desk is there, my phone, my dog, my plans. My age, my security, my identity, our family business. My prayer corner, my friends, my schedule (ESPECIALLY my schedule), my home.
For the last five years, I've been privileged to work from home as the office manager for our family business. As an empty-nester, well acquainted with my 50's, I never thought I'd have to fill out another job application. As a matter of fact, I've been thrilled to create this website and blog, having been plugging away at my new career as a writer for the last four years.
The view from my office is amazing- the Rocky Mountains, the pond beyond my back yard. Deer bound over the berm during the spring and fall. Bald eagles soar overhead in February as they stop to nest along the river. Bluebirds drop by for a couple of short weeks in the spring, but my favorite are the finches that fly in for the summer. Their song is a sweet alarm clock, awakening me to the short, perfect summer that is western Colorado.
For as long as possible, I ignored the dark shadow slowly growing along the horizon. I kept hoping our business would pick up again, waiting for the phone to ring, naively believing that we would escape the recession that has taken so many businesses out behind the woodshed and pummeled them into poverty.
Finally the dark shadow grew until this morning, when it blotted out the sun. I picked up the local paper and began looking for a second job in earnest. For the first time in many years I filled out a job application. An open invitation to surrender my life, my time, and my talents, naively submitted in an instant to a world that now invites you to bare your professional soul in an online format.
Ten years ago, this leap from the ledge would sent my faith into free fall, wondering why God has forgotten me.
Ten years ago my daughter died, and I wondered why God had forgotten me.
In those last ten years, I have sought with all my being to understand God and His ways. The fight has been brutal but not futile. I read the Bible cover-to-cover several times, wore out my knees on the carpet, wrestled with the God of the Universe as I pounded on His chest.
Now, I cry against His shirt, burying my face in the celestial fabric. He holds me tight, tells me not to worry, that He's preparing the place He needs me to go. I cry until the sobs subside, wipe my eyes, and check my email.
I loved my ledge. My desk is there, my phone, my dog, my plans. My age, my security, my identity, our family business. My prayer corner, my friends, my schedule (ESPECIALLY my schedule), my home.
For the last five years, I've been privileged to work from home as the office manager for our family business. As an empty-nester, well acquainted with my 50's, I never thought I'd have to fill out another job application. As a matter of fact, I've been thrilled to create this website and blog, having been plugging away at my new career as a writer for the last four years.
The view from my office is amazing- the Rocky Mountains, the pond beyond my back yard. Deer bound over the berm during the spring and fall. Bald eagles soar overhead in February as they stop to nest along the river. Bluebirds drop by for a couple of short weeks in the spring, but my favorite are the finches that fly in for the summer. Their song is a sweet alarm clock, awakening me to the short, perfect summer that is western Colorado.
For as long as possible, I ignored the dark shadow slowly growing along the horizon. I kept hoping our business would pick up again, waiting for the phone to ring, naively believing that we would escape the recession that has taken so many businesses out behind the woodshed and pummeled them into poverty.
Finally the dark shadow grew until this morning, when it blotted out the sun. I picked up the local paper and began looking for a second job in earnest. For the first time in many years I filled out a job application. An open invitation to surrender my life, my time, and my talents, naively submitted in an instant to a world that now invites you to bare your professional soul in an online format.
Ten years ago, this leap from the ledge would sent my faith into free fall, wondering why God has forgotten me.
Ten years ago my daughter died, and I wondered why God had forgotten me.
In those last ten years, I have sought with all my being to understand God and His ways. The fight has been brutal but not futile. I read the Bible cover-to-cover several times, wore out my knees on the carpet, wrestled with the God of the Universe as I pounded on His chest.
Now, I cry against His shirt, burying my face in the celestial fabric. He holds me tight, tells me not to worry, that He's preparing the place He needs me to go. I cry until the sobs subside, wipe my eyes, and check my email.
Posted by Rachel Ophoff at 5/19/2010 12:43 PM 
Categories: Death of a Child, God, Faith, Surrender, Christian Writer, Hope, Trust, Christian Blogger, Job
Tags: trust job anger
Categories: Death of a Child, God, Faith, Surrender, Christian Writer, Hope, Trust, Christian Blogger, Job
Tags: trust job anger
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