I’ve been thinking.
And I think I’m coming to a conclusion.
I’m some weird ironic combination of extroverted people person who prefers quiet time in her own home.
Whenever I’m with people I’m totally extroverted.
Make a silly fool of myself.
I thrive on encouragement and friendship and getting to know others in a deep way.
When given the choice, I’m a homebody.
Plain and simple.
Always have been.
And, I guess, that’s not something I’m going to outgrow.
Here’s my life’s story in a teeny tiny nutshell.
I didn’t spend the night away from home until I was 8 or 9.
Where I spent the most time for years and years when I wasn’t home.
And even then I cried and couldn’t sleep and felt sick to my stomach with homesickness.
It was chronic.
Just ask Elizabeth’s mom. The woman is a saint.
I think I had about a 50/50 shot of actually spending the entire night away from home.
Speaking of saints, my mom is definitely a name on that list.
I couldn’t even tell you how many times she drove to my friend’s house late in the night to pick me up and bring me home.
Thank you, mom. I’m pretty sure I didn’t say “thank you” enough.
I always preferred being home to being anywhere else.
Through high school it was the same way.
Friends invited me here and there and I loved participating.
And I had great friends.
But most times, I didn’t want to risk feeling uncomfortable at the outing.
So I just declined.
Later on in high school the party planning position fell to me.
People from my “group” would call me and ask me to call everyone else and come up with plan.
When. Where. How.
Senior year was the first time I did much hanging out. Outside of my house.
College was obviously a whole different ball game.
I was away from home.
I had to be ok with it.
Sure, I spent the first three months with a knot in my stomach.
And the occasional tears in my eyes.
I called my mom for an hour every night those first few weeks.
Not sure who benefited from those calls more, me or her?
But all too soon I was comfortable in my new “home.”
But that’s the thing about college.
There’s always that feeling in the back of your mind that your really don’t have a place to call “home” anymore.
You’re in this strange in-between stage.
Living in dorms, visiting parents for weekends here and there, residing in camp trailers during the summers of counseling and worship leading and bathroom cleaning.
I loved those four years.
But even on campus, surrounded by activity and friends, I was a homebody of sorts.
I always created a sacred space for myself.
A private place.
To get away.
Listen to music.
Talk to my mom.
Senior year, for instance, I chose a desk placement upstairs.
Rather than in the study room with all the other girls.
I love those girls more than anything but I knew I would cherish my separate space.
I need that to function.
I loved the library’s quiet floor.
But even that wasn’t quiet enough.
I would hunt down one of the four study rooms and claim it for my own.
I wanted no distractions.
Peace and quiet.
Nowadays a quiet home is pretty easy to come by.
I’m thankful for that.
Some people (well, probably most people our age) would consider us lame.
But Kevin and I love it being just us.
Just quality time together.
Watching our favorite shows.
Given the choice between fun hangouts with friends and time at home, I will choose home.
99% of the time.
Most of my friends and family would tell you the same.
If life was always my way, I would spend maybe one or two days with people and the rest doing my own thing.
I love baking.
Talking with my husband.
I have the capacity to be totally responsible with my schedule.
Have a list of things to accomplish and getting them done.
So herein lies the question.
And this is probably going to sound crazy.
Don’t make fun.
Anyone have any suggestions on how I could make money…
…with limited interaction with people (no offense)
…where I can manage my own schedule.
I know, seems ridiculous.
And maybe you didn’t know any of this about me.
Frankly, I’m not sure I knew any of this about me before this.
I’m an extrovert around people who prefers an introverted lifestyle.
I just realized it may seem I totally glossed over the fact that I am a Youth Pastor.
Some of you may or may not know that.
But it’s true.
It’s what I love.
What I’m passionate about.
The lives and hearts of teenagers.
Teens who are crazy and grating at times.
Teens who I love with my whole heart.
I would give anything for any one of them.
I love doing this ministry with my husband.
Our hearts beating together for the same work of God.
The only reason I didn’t bring it up previously in this post is simply because of finances.
The lovely parsonage we’re living in is our compensation.
And for that we are thankful.
But I was looking for ideas to make a little more money.
Supplement the fact that substitute teaching is Kevin’s only form of income.
And mine for that matter.
And subbing is just not that reliable.*
Two piano students and one AVON order doesn’t cut it for me.
And I know that if I were to start a baking company, in order to make enough money each month I would probably end up frazzled and frustrated.
Which totally isn’t the point.
I want to do what I love.
And happen to get paid for it.
And I love youth ministry.
I get to keep track of my own schedule.
My own assignments.
My own goals.
Get it done on time.
Spread the word.
It rocks, really.
*Please join with us as we pray for a permanent position for Kevin come fall.
There is a teeny tiny minute possibility that if a school has a science opening he could get hired.
Because he’ll be pursuing certification.
This would take a
rather large huge weight off our my shoulders.