Edited; 9:45 p.m.; 2/28/09

Being sick is quite the leveler in life; a dose of reality, if you will.

After being unable to break a 102 degree temp for several days, I finally had to go on a high dose of steroids a few days ago.  The doctor asked to speak with whoever was taking care of me, to explain the side effects that would come along with them.  I told him I live alone, but that there were people I could call if I needed something.  He seemed hesitant as he explained that they might cause me to imagine things, even hallucinate.  He didn’t feel comfortable with me being on them without someone there with me.  I assured him that I would be fine, paid my bill at the front desk and made the short drive home.

I underestimated the effect the pills would have on me.

For the last couple of nights, my mind has played the cruelest tricks on me.  I woke up in a cold sweat several different times that first night, certain that I heard the baby crying from the empty crib that still sits in the nursery below my bedroom. I’ll fall back asleep only to wake up a few minutes later thinking he was now laying in my bed, swaddled in blankets, still crying.  I stood beside my bed, running my hands through the blankets until I convinced myself of what I already knew to be true: there is no baby in this house anymore.

And then there was last night, waking up at 1 a.m. wondering why he hadn’t called to tell me goodnight, he being the last boy I dated, of course.  “He always calls before bed,” I thought, confused as to how I had apparently slept through his call.  And then, as I picked up my cell phone to look for his missed call, it hit me: that ended three months ago, too.  Both nights it was as if I was continually waking up three months ago, back in a life that I can’t even believe I lived.

There’s nothing like having a week of laying in your bed to think about your life, to take stock of what you have and what you don’t, to find out what is important about you and what isn’t.

To find out whether you matter or not.

In some realms, I do matter — particularly Starlite, I suppose.  What I do or don’t do actually has consequence, good or bad.  My existence matters where Starlite is concerned, of that I am certain.

But take that away and I’m left with one very hard question: to whom do I really matter?

I think it’s fair to say that I’ve spent a great deal of the last seven years of my life pouring into other people, taking care of them, if you will.  I don’t regret it; it was the life I chose.  But the last few months have left me feeling shadowed by a question that I’ve been too afraid to ask God: who is supposed to take care of me?

I know this post must make me sound incredibly selfish but, if so, then that’s just how I’ll have to come across today, I suppose.  Or maybe I just am selfish.

Is it wrong to want to belong to someone?  I’m not even necessarily referring to a boy, believe it or not.   I’d settle for belonging to a boy, of course, and happily at that.  I didn’t write about my last relationship, the one that started in the fall and ended as winter showed up mainly because I was afraid that it was too good to be true.  Suddenly there was someone who I belonged to, someone who wanted to be with me.  I’ll never forget the first time I walked into his house to find a letter with my name on it sitting on his coffee table, handwritten words telling me how glad he was that I was in his life, in his home.  “You belong here,” he wrote.  And, belong I did until I suddenly didn’t one day.

Looking back, I wish I would have written about those months, just to give you a peek at what I look like when I’m loved.  I think it would help you understand just what kind of effect love can have on someone’s life, mine in particular.

I’ve realized this week that some change has subtly taken place in me over the last few months, a gradual giving up on the thought that I will have a place to belong.  It’s almost as if I’ve just finally turned in the towel, given up on the idea that I matter relationally to someone, anyone. I know that isn’t the “Christian” thing to say; I’m supposed to tell you how I’m certain that God has a plan, to even assure Him that I know He is has everything under control.  That would be the good thing to do, the thing that is expected of me.

But that’s not what I’m going to do tonight.  In a few minutes, I’m going to close my laptop and set it on the floor beside my bed.  I’ll give myself the medicine I’m supposed to take and turn off the lamp beside my bed.  I’ll put my phone beside my pillow, pull the covers up to my chest and ask God the question that has haunted me for awhile now.

How in the world did You forget to assign someone to the caring for and loving of me?

So, I caught an ugly case of bronchitis over the weekend and have been flat on my back for the last couple of days.  I’m having a hard time kicking it and have been put on bedrest for five days in order to try to prevent it from turning into pneumonia. If things aren’t better in 48 hours, my doctor told me he’ll need to admit me to the hospital on Thursday.  I’m trying to avoid that at all costs, so after writing this, it’s back to bed for me.  I’ll see you later this week or early next week at the latest when I’m back to normal.

Out of everything we had to move out of the office this weekend, this little beast turned out to be the most trouble until Honour and Mary figured out a way to tame it using only a screwdriver and their sheer strength.

Our first customer of the weekend was a lovely gentleman who purchased up about half of our available furniture in one big swoop.  He came back earlier this afternoon with a little treat for us, saying that we looked like we needed a little chocolate when he was at the office earlier.

Why, yes we did need a little chocolate, kind sir.

Well, hello again.

The sale is going very, very well.  I only have two things to say about it:

1. It is amazing how a simple yard sale will bring the crazies straight to your front lawn.

and

2. It is amazing what those people will actually buy.

We got a bit crazy earlier and made a video for you.  Please ignore the fact that everything that comes out of my mouth sounds ri-darn-diculous as my lack of sleep is apparently beginning to catch up with me.

Also, please ignore the fact that I shot the video sideways.

And the story about the knife.

As well as the story about the man touching my ba-donk-a-donk.

That is all.

Good morning, the sun isn’t up yet, I’m off to our moving sale, how are you today?

Just wanted to make sure I got all that out.

Can I just tell you what an incredible team we have?  Let me break down yesterday for you:

We did business as normal in the office all whilst: setting up transfer of utilities; attempting to set-up transfer of phone / internet; preparing for and then actually having three simultaneous middle school programs; distributing 500+ flyers about our moving sale; preparing for our moving sale; making very large delivery of items to our new office and having a private pre-sale last night.

Oh, and we drank some caffeinated beverages.  But just one or eighty nine two.

If that wasn’t impressive enough, over the next 72 hours, our team of unbelievable college girls will — in one very orchestrated weekend — somehow hold a very large moving sale; move the rest of our stuff to the new office; set-up the new office; clean the old office and — believe it or not — be ready to be back in regular business by Monday morning at which time we will hold four separate elementary school programs all in one afternoon.

My girls are amazing.  Not to mention probably on their way to the office themselves so I best get my ba-donk-a-donk there, like, STAT.

I’ll check in with you sometime this afternoon to let you know how it’s going.  Remember, you can always follow me on Twitter or add me on Facebook to hear the most up-to-date news.

I mean, why WOULDN’T you want to be the first to know when I run into my ex-boyfriend at the local coffee shop whilst he’s on a date with another girl and then proceed to be so startled by the whole ordeal that I walk into a glass door in front of both of them?  Priceless info, people.  Just priceless.

Or, you know, boring.  You decide.

We spent most of today getting ready for our moving sale which began with a private indoor pre-sale earlier tonight.  We didn’t even have price tags on more than a few items when people started arriving, but it didn’t seem to hurt business considering over half of our major items were sold within the first hour.

And the rest of it?  Well, we girls have to lug it outside before the sun comes up tomorrow unless we somehow figure out a way to get boyfriends between now and then.

For this past Christmas, my step-grandmother’s boyfriend (yep, you read that right) gave me the ultimate gift, a generous gift card to none other than my beloved Cracker Barrel. I headed there with bride-to-be Katie last night after I got out of Bible Study with Cousin Cate.

Side note: Whilst listening to the DVD lesson from our spot on the back row at Bible Study last night (my hair looked bad, so we were in hiding), both Cousin Cate and I were doodling our first names with the last names of boys we may or may not have a crush on. Please don’t judge us; you know you did it when you were 12 years old our age, too.

Anyway, so there we were, writing our potential new married names (QUIT JUDGING, YOU HYPOCRITE) when Bethie says something like “If you find yourself getting tired in a season of waiting, maybe you’re not waiting on the Lord… maybe you’re waiting on an event, like a wedding.” I am here to tell you that Cousin Cate and I snapped to attention, looked at each other and said “Amen!” (her) and “That’ll preach!” (me) simultaneously.

Anyway, back to Cracker Barrel.

So, Katie gets us a table while I go to the restroom. When I find her at our table, who do you think I saw waiting to take our drink orders?

That’s right… TREY. Also known as Boy Who Once Infamously Told Me I Was A Delicate Flower And Won Me Over Forever.

Also known as Boy Who Was On American Idol Except They Edited Him Out But He Made It All The Way To The Judges.

And now, sadly, also known as Boy Who Broke My Heart.

See for yourself, loves. But may I first suggest you get some Kleenex on standby?

Also: after breaking the bad news to us, stick around for Trey to explain why you didn’t see him when you tuned into American Idol that night.

And, you know, beg y’all not to send him hate mail once you hear his news.

Somehow, in a situation that could only have been worked out by God, Cousin Cate and I happened to have my laptop out when our good friend, Cara, found herself in an internet cafe somewhere in Ecuador.  The result?  A full 45 minutes of real-time chat, our first communication outside of emails since she’s been gone. I miss my little Cupcake Cara more than words could even begin to describe but she’s got some orphan babies that need her more, that’s for sure.

So, some big changes are coming my way in the next few months. It might take me a bit to explain it all out, so I hope you’ll forgive the length of this post.

I’ve casually mentioned a couple of times that Starlite is entering a season of transition, some of which I can blog about, some of which I can’t. The most notable thing at the moment is the fact that, this coming weekend, we’re moving out of the offices we’ve occupied for the last few years. The property was recently sold to a new owner who will be bringing in other tenants. We’ve known this was a possibility for awhile now, but the reality of it has fully hit us this week, I think.

We’ll be moving to a temporary space to finish out the semester so, this Friday and Saturday, we’re having a massive moving sale to significantly downsize some of our “belongings” and prepare for the next step of our transition. As we were going over details for the sale in our leader’s meeting this past Sunday night, several of my girls broke down in tears, with me leading the pack. I think I can speak for every single girl on our team when I say that we do not like the season we’re in at all.

But for me personally, the season got a whole lot worse one morning last week.

I had just arrived back at the office from going to buy some supplies for our programs when I heard that I had a message asking me to give one of our donors a call. It struck me as odd since it would typically be his secretary calling so I immediately called his cell and began with an apology for not being at the office for his earlier call. His reply was quick and to the point:

“Girl, if you knew why I was calling, you’d probably wish you hadn’t returned my call.”

His call was just like the various other ones I’ve received over the last six months, donors apologetic as they inform me that they’ll no longer be able to give. But while his call was similar to the other ones, it had one significant difference for me, the one who knew what the loss of our single largest monthly donor would mean at least for now.

I basically lost my salary with that call.

With the loss of that particular amount coming in each month coupled with the mass exodus of other donors who simply can’t keep giving due to the economy, we just can’t support my salary, low as it is. Without going into too many details, I receive a flat base pay each month regardless of how many hours I work. While I am extremely appreciative of even having a salary, there’s no denying it’s a very small sum of money. To put it in perspective for you, if you took the number of hours I worked last month and divided them into my base pay, you’d learn that I made about $4.43 / hr. As you’ll probably remember, I work at a second job (that I don’t blog about) in order to supplement my income so I can still work for Starlite. It hasn’t been fun to do that, but it’s been the only way so I’ve just done it. It’s been the only way I could do my dream, Starlite.

And now I just don’t know what to do.

Our programs won’t shut down this semester; I’ve always insisted that we have the money we need for that before a semester even begins so there’s no chance of us having to “pull out” in the middle of a semester, right as we’re making progress with the girls. The money we need for that is already in the account, evenly divided out to carry us through the end of April, when our programs end for the semester. I’ve always felt very strongly about having it this way and now, in a moment where it matters, I’m so glad we made those provisions ahead of time.

The money for my salary, however, comes after that, from donations that we depend on to come in on a monthly basis. I’ve known from the beginning that my salary wasn’t guaranteed from month-to-month, but God has always provided, even through just providing me with the second job that allows me to pay my student loans, among other things. Neither job is enough to live on by itself but somehow together, the finances work out — if just barely — at the end of the month.

That morning that I got the call, I went to talk to my mentor right away, mainly because I was devastated on the inside. She listened quietly before saying the very thing I couldn’t have put into words myself:

“You know, Amy Beth, the thing about your situation is that, unlike other people who have in essence lost their job, you can’t just pack up your desk and leave tomorrow morning. I know you well enough to know that you’ll show up tomorrow morning, with or without a salary. You won’t leave Starlite in the middle of a semester, but going into your office each morning not knowing if you’re going to be paid for that day’s work just increases the burden you’re already carrying.”

And she’s right. We have enough set aside to pay me for March, but I honestly have no idea where the future months’ pay will come from seeing as I have commitments with Starlite until July and need to stay on salary until then. I know my story isn’t different from the tens of thousands in the nation right now, but when it’s your story, it sure does hit closer to home, especially when you’re single, without another person’s income to depend on.

I tell you all of this for a couple of reasons.

First, if you’re the praying type, I sure would appreciate your prayers over the next few days, weeks and months.

Secondly, I’m assuming that my blogging may be a bit “different” as I go through this season. There’s a lot that I won’t be able to write about, but I’m sure my tone will be, at times, different. They’ll be laughter, I’m sure, but probably some tears, too, as I go through days where I may just not feel like blogging. One thing that God has taught me during the last three months of dealing with Roomie and Baby leaving is that I need to bring things to Him before bringing them to the blog; I’m sure this season of life won’t be any different, of course.

The last reason, however, that I wanted to tell you what’s going on is because I want you to know the truth. It would be very easy for me to just write funny little anecdotes over the next few weeks, pretending like everything is easy and breezy. I don’t feel like that’s fair, however; part of ministry is the funny, happy times and I’ll of course still be writing about those, too. But part of it is the hard, stick-through-it-don’t-you-dare-think-about-running-away times and, in an effort to be transparent, I’ll be writing about those times, too.

When I picked the name for this blog, I meant it tongue-in-cheek. The idea of ministry being fabulous all the time would make most anybody in vocational ministry laugh. It isn’t fabulous to wonder if you’re going to get a paycheck over the next few months.

But it is fabulous to know I’m getting ready to see Him as a provider like never before.