C is working. She's writing freelance for a friend and colleague. It's ideal work for her: technical writing on an as-needed basis, for a woman owned & staffed company that intentionally structures its operations around the scheduling needs that moms have. In other words, work from home and pick your own hours.
This on top of her own cancer book project.
She seems happier. Full-time stay-at-home Mom will not be C's profession for the rest of her life. Now that we have our youngest in second grade, and we're past cancer, and the house remodel, she has mental bandwidth to spend the pursuit of a skilled craft that contributes to the family income. Her rhythm this week has been to write in the evenings. It makes for a lovely vignette, really.
See, I come home late enough that its already dark in the winter. I pull the car into the garage on the alley, and approach the house from from the back yard. From that angle, the double-wide window in C's office frames her beautifully as she sits at her desk, writing. It looks peaceful. It looks homey. It looks...safe and happy. Each evening, I find myself stopped on the steps down to the patio, looking at her while she works. Last night, I gently tapped on her window and waved to her from outside.
There are times - over and over again, really - when we experience asking God in our prayers to PLEASE help, provide, open a door, something. It's surprising how often, when it really counts, God does exactly that. Answer our prayers, I mean. C had been asking God for something to do that paid. Two days later, she had it. Imagine.
Maybe we'll need the money. Maybe we won't. Doesn't matter. I can't speak for what happens inside C's head, but on the outside she does seem happier being Mom when she also knows she has monetary value.
I'm thinking that an increased feeling of self worth can only be good for any of us Johnsons.
This on top of her own cancer book project.
She seems happier. Full-time stay-at-home Mom will not be C's profession for the rest of her life. Now that we have our youngest in second grade, and we're past cancer, and the house remodel, she has mental bandwidth to spend the pursuit of a skilled craft that contributes to the family income. Her rhythm this week has been to write in the evenings. It makes for a lovely vignette, really.
See, I come home late enough that its already dark in the winter. I pull the car into the garage on the alley, and approach the house from from the back yard. From that angle, the double-wide window in C's office frames her beautifully as she sits at her desk, writing. It looks peaceful. It looks homey. It looks...safe and happy. Each evening, I find myself stopped on the steps down to the patio, looking at her while she works. Last night, I gently tapped on her window and waved to her from outside.
There are times - over and over again, really - when we experience asking God in our prayers to PLEASE help, provide, open a door, something. It's surprising how often, when it really counts, God does exactly that. Answer our prayers, I mean. C had been asking God for something to do that paid. Two days later, she had it. Imagine.
Maybe we'll need the money. Maybe we won't. Doesn't matter. I can't speak for what happens inside C's head, but on the outside she does seem happier being Mom when she also knows she has monetary value.
I'm thinking that an increased feeling of self worth can only be good for any of us Johnsons.
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