Jealousy

As I was cleaning our front bathroom I could hear J (my husband) talking to some coworkers. He had been asked to talk to interns of the IT department about how he got to where he is in his company.

He’s brilliant. He’s kind. He’s hardworking. He’s dependable. He’s Godly.

Those are the real reasons why he got where he is, but he’s moved within the company and done things that nobody else has. They wanted him to show others or talk to others about how he has done what he’s done. Proud doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about what he has done. He’s found himself in a seemingly stable company and has worked to a role that he didn’t even really know he wanted when he started out. Now he’s being asked to tell others how to get where they want to be one day. It’s impressive to say the least. So, as I was cleaning and thinking about how amazing he is and how impressed I am by him-I also had these beautiful thoughts.

“What are you doing?”

“Why are you just cleaning a bathroom?”

“Have you done anything really great lately?”

“Clearly not because you’re about to trade out a bathroom scrubber for a duster.”

“Your husband is in there coaching other people about how to become what they want to be. You could’ve done something like that…”

Ugh. Can you even stand satan? I mean. I’m tearful. I’m irritated. I’m just, ugh. My excitement for him started to be overshadowed by words that weren’t from God. Not even from me. Not fully at least. Yes there are days where I wonder what happened to my life. I’m smart and could’ve done anything I wanted to, but here I am picking up toy cars and scrubbing toilets for a living. Except that’s not all I’m doing. I’m training a child. Day in and day out I’m teaching a tiny human how to be a kind tiny human. How to share. How to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. How to be kind no matter what situation he is in. How to stand up for himself and what is right. How to fully love God. While J is at work it’s on me to teach a little boy how to be a loving, kind, generous, brave, strong, tender, godly boy. So while those little thoughts swirled in my head about what I’m really doing, I had to think about what I’m really doing.

Do I enjoy cleaning and cooking every single day? Sometimes. But most of the time no I don’t. I have to do it.

Do I sometimes wish I had a job where I got to talk to other adults and seemingly do something “more” important? Absolutely. But that’s not the season I’m in.

Could I maybe get to do that one day? Yes. Why? Because frankly, I know this isn’t all that God has for me. One day my kids will grow up and leave the house. One day my life won’t completely revolve around them. And one day I will be doing something else.

I know not all of you are moms. I don’t even think this applies to only moms. Go ahead and imagine the jealousy you feel at times when someone else is getting something you wanted. Instead of that-celebrate them. Celebrate their victory. Yours is on the way. Keep working hard. That way, those people will want to celebrate you when you have your moment. I mean honestly, who doesn’t want to be celebrated?

And to my mamas. The next time you’re cleaning up someone else’s mess, scrubbing a toilet, or listening to your husbands amazing achievements at work. Remember, your achievements right now may not be recognized or even seen. They are there though. God sees you. God sees your hard work when no one else is watching. Be patient. You will see the fruit of your labor and prayers. It’s not easy, but it’s one of the best jobs out there. Keep your head held high because you are doing a great job.

And to J. You are amazing. There aren’t enough words to describe how incredibly impressed I am by you. You have proven yourself time and time again at work and at home. I can’t wait for the next meeting I hear through the door and get to think about how far you’ve come, how hard you’ve worked to get there, and how you’ve loved and supported your family through it all. You’ve got even better things ahead and I as always will say- I have high hopes for you. And so does God.

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