August 4, 2000

 "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," He said. And i'm not! Honest! Well, not intentionally anyway.

     We've been having a discussion about my going out to work again. When i first moved here, we agreed that i would contribute a set amount of money to the household every month.  i would not have to be involved in bill paying, or any of the other mundane yet nerve-wracking financial things that are required to run a household.  But i'd still have a sense of independence, knowing that i was helping out, and not 'sponging', as it were.

     Well, a few things have changed.  First, i don't have a viable source of income anymore, so the monthly commitment is going to be hard to meet. (Not to mention Christmas presents for my kids, and paying my life insurance policy) Second, the tenant downstairs may be moving, so if i went out and found a job, we'd have the option of not re-renting, but could instead have the entire house to ourselves.  Tantalizing thought.

     But Master wants me to stay home and pursue some of my dreams.  And while i am incredibly grateful, i'm still having trouble reconciling that idea in my head, and having trouble dealing with the pending guilt. i don't want to be a drudge, a burden ... a sponge!

     He's right.  i know He is.  What's the point of going out to dead end jobs again?  Yes, they are interesting and even a bit exciting at first, but once the learning curve is over, i get bored. i end up feeling trapped in a drudge-like existence because i've become dependent on the money.  And to go back to dispatching means sacrificing more of my health.  It's just more stressful than my body wants anymore.

     i've been trying to figure out what my reluctance is, about what He is offering.  i know that self-esteem is part of it, but why? And then, earlier today, i remembered something.

     When i was in high school, the first few years, i took as many art courses as the curriculum would allow.  i loved to do cartooning mostly, and i loved to write stories. i dreamed of going to George Brown College, because my research had revealed that this was the place to be, for the very best in art education.  i told my parents this.  They just smiled and didn't acknowledge me as being serious.

     My mother took a file folder of the many sketches i had done, to the neighbour's house.  The neighbour was a well recognized and received local artist.  In fact, she was the same woman who opened her door late at night for me, when the insanity would start in my own house.  She looked over my work, and told my mother it was cute, and that in fact one of the sketches showed promise, but that was about it.  My mother used this information to back her decision that i had no future in anything artistic.  The fact that i was an honour student in English didn't seem to matter.  i switched to business English the next year.

     i gave up the dream.  i'd had it for several years, and in a single moment, i gave it up.  i was embarrassed by what my mother had done, by what the neighbour said.  How could i have had such a high opinion of myself, of my work?  i was just a stupid kid.  Instead i followed what my mother thought was best, and while i can't say the decisions she made were horrible, (in fact the traveling she urged was very good for me) they still weren't my dreams or inspirations. i let her live her youth through me. 

     i just wanted to learn how to draw and write.

     i haven't tried to sketch anything in years and years. i'm only just beginning to explore the possibility of writing again.  And i feel a pressure, most likely self-imposed, that if i don't do it well, then i shouldn't do it at all.  i'm afraid to embarrass myself. 

     Yet Master is offering me the opportunity of doing exactly what i've always wanted to do.  A chance to be artistic again, having the credentials to back up my interest in webpage design.   And i know the interest in doing them stems from the desire to be creative.  In some ways, the webpages enhance both the drawing and the writing. Add the challenge of computers, and i'm irresistibly drawn.

     But my soul still wrestles with the concept, pitting the years of 'having to work' and earn my keep against the opportunity i've been presented with.  It seems i have this idea in my head, that if i am not the best and can make money from this dream, then it isn't worthy.  i become the burden, the sponge, that i most dread being.  For months and months i deliberately withheld the information that i was writing from someone (a teacher), because i was afraid He'd find my work amusing, trite, and something to laugh at. 

     i have to find the place in my head that says; "it's okay if you don't make it ... so long as you tried."  i have to learn the confidence to know that even if the work never 'makes it' ... if it never gets quite good enough, that's okay too.  And i'm not being a sponge, so i don't have to feel guilty.  Or excessively clean the house to justify my existance.

     Hard lesson to learn after 43 years of living a completely different way.