Monday, September 03, 2012
It's late on Sunday night, and I'm sitting in my favourite spot in my whole house - my recliner in my bedroom. The window is open and there is a lovely breeze coming in. I can hear the crickets outside.
I'm soaking up my family this weekend, and all the safe feelings I have whenever I'm at home with my people.
It was a hard week. Probably the hardest week I've experienced at this job so far. Lots of tears on the way to work...and lots of tears on the way home. Pretty much every day.
I work in the credit and collections department of a very large company. My workload is exceptionally heavy and there is an incredible amount of expectation and pressure to produce results.
This past week I had a customer scream at me for a half hour over the phone. I've been hung up on, sworn at, lied to repeatedly, and complained about. I had to do client site visits to pick up cheques so they would be deposited in our bank for month end. Micro managed to work harder, apply pressure to our clients, negotiate payment plans, resolve problems, hold orders, threaten, beg, plead.
It was exhausting.
And it's not me.
While I continue to remain thankful to have employment, I have to wonder why God put me there of all places. He knows I'm not hard core like that, so why would He put me there?
I don't get it.
A few months ago, when I shared that I was offered a short-term assignment at this company, someone left me a comment on my blog - anonymously of course - that really hurt me. I didn't publish it because I just didn't want that negativity on my blog, nor did I respond to it here because I didn't want them to have the satisfaction of knowing their words hurt.
But they did.
Very much, in fact. Because even though the comment was posted anonymously, I know who left it.
We call each other friend.
And to you, friend, I say this.
You judged me for taking this job, accused me of bringing darkness home to my family, and said that a good mother stays home with her children where they are needed. You even threw in a dig about my husband, asking why he didn't provide for our family instead of me.
You read my blog regularly. I see you show up in my statcounter. You know the hell we have walked through in the last year and half. You knew how battered and broken we were. You read my posts where I talked about how hard my husband was looking for work after he was laid off. Yet in spite of all of that, you chose to kick me when I was down.
Let me tell you what a good mother does, friend. She puts the needs of her family first. She willingly goes to a job that takes almost everything out of her, every day, because she loves her family. She shows her daughters that there is more to her than cooking, cleaning and changing diapers. She shows her sons that wives are equal to their husbands and are fully capable of sharing the load of providing. She is a helper and encourager to her husband. I'm sad that you don't see the benefits my husband and children reap by having him as the stay-at-home parent, and that you don't afford him the same respect you would for a mother. Fathers are equally as capable of caring for their children and homes as mothers are.
Do I bring your accused darkness home to my family? I try my hardest not to. I cry it out on my way home. I'll stop in an empty schoolyard, crying and praying that I won't bring any heaviness home. Sometimes I fail miserably, but I won't ever stop trying.
Being at home doesn't make me a good mother, and working doesn't make me a bad one. I do my very best every day - be it at home or in an office - to love and provide for my children, to let them know they are valued and precious and so loved.
I'm so sad that you felt you had to say those things - and more - to me. I would have had more respect for you had you signed your name to them.
I have something to say to you in return.
I forgive you.
I'm sorry that you felt you had to attack me. I'm sure you had your reasons. Maybe you stand by the words you wrote. It doesn't matter, because I'm choosing to forgive you. I will continue to banter with you, and encourage you and pray for you. I just wanted you to know that I know it was you and you are forgiven.
And on that note, I'm letting go of this and I'm going to bed.
Posted by Kate at 12:35 AM