jenlitke
02-09-2007, 11:29 AM
It was a Friday afternoon. I left work to go for my lunch and I found myself crying at the steering wheel. I could barely make it through the McDonald’s drive through for the tears. It was becoming increasingly difficult to manage both work and home life, and above all else I missed my kids. I was also pregnant with my third child.
I pulled my car over to the side of the parking lot and I called up a dear friend. I was sobbing from tears and it was all I could do to make my words audible. All I was really seeking was prayer but I also received the best advice I had ever been given. She told me that my children were my first ministry in life. Working was a means to an end, but parenting was a life long decision. It wasn’t a matter of deciding between my children and my job; it was a matter of choosing between my children coming first or my children coming last.
The situation I had come to find myself in was unique. Most parents would never be confronted with some of the challenges I had to face. My husband, a farmer, spent every summer and every fall in a town five hours away so that he could harvest peas. He would be gone from the middle of June to the middle of October every year. I saw him very little during that time period. This left me as a single parent for approximately four or five months at a time. I was working full time at a retail store in the neighbouring town. My drive was about half an hour each way and so I would need to leave about forty-five to sixty minutes early just so that I could get to work on time. I spent at least eleven hours out of the house, five days a week. What time did that leave for my kids?
Matters were made worse when my care give had been reported to Children’s Services. The woman who I had sent my kids to for almost five years had been reported for shaking a baby. Initially I didn’t believe the alleged accusation, but once my eldest son had been questioned and he revealed that not only had there been abuse going on in the home, but it had been directed at an infant, my heart sank. Who had I been leaving my children with? Who was raising my sons? It definitely wasn’t me.
Over the weekend I took the time to assess the situation. My second son, who was nearing three, was not yet speaking. He would cry uncontrollably when I would take him to the baby sitter’s house as my eldest son had done years ago. Not only that, but my toddler would act out in such destructible ways that I spent my only time with him disciplining him. I was about to give birth to a third son, and how would my time be divided if I were always out of the house? If my husband was always gone for work, then where was my place? And the biggest question of all was; who did I want raising my sons?
My answer to prayer came in an unexpected way. On Monday morning, when ordinarily I would have gone to work, I decided to call in sick instead. I made an appointment with my doctor and she placed me on sick leave from work for the duration of my pregnancy. The next day when I went in to work, my employers let me go. They gave me a sizable severance check and dated my release papers for the day after my doctor had placed me on sick leave. I left the store that day laughing and crying. Because my doctor had placed me on sick leave I was entitled to extended benefits. I was able to spend a year and a half with my sons, fully provided for. After my benefits expired, my husband received a raise in the exact amount that compensated for what I had lost in income.
After I had been home for a week, I noticed a remarkable improvement in my toddler’s behaviour. Where he had not been speaking at all, within only a few days he was speaking in full sentences. He was no longer acting out, and I found less and less things destroyed in my home. I was able to build on my relationship with both of my sons, instead of constantly disciplining them. I was more rested and as a result I could focus more on spending time with my children and still have time for myself. My housework no longer suffered, and I was able to cook nutritious meals instead of always ordering take out. It was the greatest answer to prayer I could have ever hoped to receive.
There are times when I miss going out to work everyday and being a contributing member of society. There are times when I miss the benefit of a two-income household. Those times cannot compare though to the blessing of watching my kids grow and develop into young gentlemen. I don’t know if it is better or worse for a mother to work outside the home. I can say with all certainty though, that God blesses the mother richly who chooses to stay home with her children. The rewards in heaven are great I am certain.
It has been two years now since I left my job, and I haven’t looked back since. I have three beautiful sons all of whom I spend the majority of my time with. My sons are being raised by me, their mother. I can instil in them the virtues of a Christ centred life on a daily basis. They have the comfort and security of knowing I will always be there for them. That is worth far more than money to me.
I pulled my car over to the side of the parking lot and I called up a dear friend. I was sobbing from tears and it was all I could do to make my words audible. All I was really seeking was prayer but I also received the best advice I had ever been given. She told me that my children were my first ministry in life. Working was a means to an end, but parenting was a life long decision. It wasn’t a matter of deciding between my children and my job; it was a matter of choosing between my children coming first or my children coming last.
The situation I had come to find myself in was unique. Most parents would never be confronted with some of the challenges I had to face. My husband, a farmer, spent every summer and every fall in a town five hours away so that he could harvest peas. He would be gone from the middle of June to the middle of October every year. I saw him very little during that time period. This left me as a single parent for approximately four or five months at a time. I was working full time at a retail store in the neighbouring town. My drive was about half an hour each way and so I would need to leave about forty-five to sixty minutes early just so that I could get to work on time. I spent at least eleven hours out of the house, five days a week. What time did that leave for my kids?
Matters were made worse when my care give had been reported to Children’s Services. The woman who I had sent my kids to for almost five years had been reported for shaking a baby. Initially I didn’t believe the alleged accusation, but once my eldest son had been questioned and he revealed that not only had there been abuse going on in the home, but it had been directed at an infant, my heart sank. Who had I been leaving my children with? Who was raising my sons? It definitely wasn’t me.
Over the weekend I took the time to assess the situation. My second son, who was nearing three, was not yet speaking. He would cry uncontrollably when I would take him to the baby sitter’s house as my eldest son had done years ago. Not only that, but my toddler would act out in such destructible ways that I spent my only time with him disciplining him. I was about to give birth to a third son, and how would my time be divided if I were always out of the house? If my husband was always gone for work, then where was my place? And the biggest question of all was; who did I want raising my sons?
My answer to prayer came in an unexpected way. On Monday morning, when ordinarily I would have gone to work, I decided to call in sick instead. I made an appointment with my doctor and she placed me on sick leave from work for the duration of my pregnancy. The next day when I went in to work, my employers let me go. They gave me a sizable severance check and dated my release papers for the day after my doctor had placed me on sick leave. I left the store that day laughing and crying. Because my doctor had placed me on sick leave I was entitled to extended benefits. I was able to spend a year and a half with my sons, fully provided for. After my benefits expired, my husband received a raise in the exact amount that compensated for what I had lost in income.
After I had been home for a week, I noticed a remarkable improvement in my toddler’s behaviour. Where he had not been speaking at all, within only a few days he was speaking in full sentences. He was no longer acting out, and I found less and less things destroyed in my home. I was able to build on my relationship with both of my sons, instead of constantly disciplining them. I was more rested and as a result I could focus more on spending time with my children and still have time for myself. My housework no longer suffered, and I was able to cook nutritious meals instead of always ordering take out. It was the greatest answer to prayer I could have ever hoped to receive.
There are times when I miss going out to work everyday and being a contributing member of society. There are times when I miss the benefit of a two-income household. Those times cannot compare though to the blessing of watching my kids grow and develop into young gentlemen. I don’t know if it is better or worse for a mother to work outside the home. I can say with all certainty though, that God blesses the mother richly who chooses to stay home with her children. The rewards in heaven are great I am certain.
It has been two years now since I left my job, and I haven’t looked back since. I have three beautiful sons all of whom I spend the majority of my time with. My sons are being raised by me, their mother. I can instil in them the virtues of a Christ centred life on a daily basis. They have the comfort and security of knowing I will always be there for them. That is worth far more than money to me.