And so it begins. The wrestle. Every work day I wake up, open my eyes, stare at the clock on the microwave. 5am. Do I ride today? Do I keep laying in bed? I wish I could lay in bed, but riding wins today. Riding is good for me. Because of riding I lost a bunch of weight I needed to lose. It gets my brain going.
The wrestle doesn’t stop there though. It continues as I tell the Lord I don’t want to go to work today. I’m tired of this call to nurse. I’m tired of the bad hours. I’m tired of the pop music I know I’m going to hear for hours in nearly every room I walk into today. I’m tired of the small talk. I’m tired of the rushing. I’m tired of the J O B. But when I’m done writing this post, I’ll jump in the shower, get ready and go.
I wish I had a fun job. I told a co-worker I’m not afraid to be homeless. I’ll camp out for the rest of my life if I have to. I lived in Africa for a year. I am not afraid to be homeless. Please God. Let me be something else. Give me something else to do for you.
But God keeps waking me up. Get up Michelle. Get up Michelle. Go to work Michelle. I’ll go with you but you have to go.
The wrestle has been going on for years. Thirty years to be exact. I’ve cried so many tears of fear, anger, and sadness at this thing called nursing, my bottle must be enormous! I cried every single day for the first 5 years I worked in surgery. Yes. You read that correctly. Every. Single. Day. For 5 years.
So Why do I keep going back? Because somewhere deep deep down in my soul I know I’m not finished. You know? Just like when I told my favorite #1 son we should move to Arizona and deep deep down in my soul I knew it was good and I have this amazing sense of peace.
So today the Lord wins again. But I’m stubborn like Jacob. I’m gonna keep the wrestle going until I win. It’s just a matter of time.