The Steadfast Heart

I have a feeling as I sit at my kitchen counter to write out my thoughts tonight that they are not going to come out super polished or pretty. As I’ve thought about writing what’s on my heart as of late, I’ve continued to push it off because all I have going on in my head is a legitimate whirlwind, squirrel moment-esque, giant potpourri bowl of thoughts.  And I’m not even sure they smell all that pleasant. 

I normally am able to find some sort of silver lining in whatever I’m going through as I write out my thoughts.  I fear that for some of these thoughts, I won’t arrive at any answers and I hope that isn’t a let down. No one wants a negative Natalie.  But I did kind of say a while ago that I’m learning to be okay with not being okay. 

Nevertheless, the external processor in me has mentally internalized long enough.  Maybe the New Year has me subconsciously reflecting on my 2017.  Maybe you can chalk it up to pregnancy hormones. Or, the weather might actually work towards valid reasoning here.  What I’m trying to say is, my perception may not be reality and I am highly aware of that.  But if you want, you are invited to join me in “whatever this is that I’m trying to say” feels like. 

It’s My Pleasure

Shall we talk about chicken? The restaurant that I work at was the first free-standing restaurant for our company in the state of Wisconsin. There are now 8 locations across the state that have come to be in the last three years, but even still, chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is like a super new thing up here.  I hear “Chick-uh-fill-ahh” and “Can I try your Chipotle sauce?” on the regular.  So you could say that I am in the business of guest education in a state that is dominated by Culver’s and Canadian accents. 

It would take me quite a bit of time to fully explain what I do, because essentially the role that I fill was made up.  I literally came up with my job title, Executive Coordinator (which is legit if you google it.  Accurate, too.) and most of my responsibilities have been things I’ve accumulated along the way.  Most of what I do is stuff that you’d never know or never see as a guest because I assist people like our operational managers or our owner/operator, but I also help with serving food every day, too.

You know that game called Never Have I Ever?  If 23-year-old Natalie would have been asked a question about dreaming of a career in fast-food, I would have never-have-I-ever’ed that so hard.  But here’s what I’ve learned.  I thought doing hair was challenging.  Serving chicken can certainly hold its own candle to that.  Part of my job is to respond to guest complaints, not just in store when they happen. I’m the lucky one who gets to call the people that write to corporate with an incident or post nasty reviews to our Facebook page.  Remember, our little chicken chain is super new to Wisconsin.  So to the lady from the drive-thru calling back because she didn’t get her “Tahitian sauce” and had to put her own mayo on her “burger” and oh yes, was ticked that her fries were weirdly shaped like some sort of a net or grid—it’s okay.  You will figure us out eventually.  But sure, we’ll replace your entire meal for you and your family because you are convinced that the lemon seed you found in your hand-squeezed lemonade was in fact an intentional act from us to give you food poisoning.  Thank goodness you are now miraculously healed! 

So that wears over time. Thankfully I also have positive experiences with super pleasant guests who really did have a bad experience that we need to absolutely recover and that always helps balance the scales. But lately, as I drive thirty-five minutes back to my apartment I just find myself asking the question, “What am I doing?” 

For the record, I assist some really great people.  But off of the record, I struggle with being content with my job status and wanting recognition for the things I do that I feel like no one sees or finds value in and I definitely ask myself if what I do really matters.  And listen, I know that I could Esther the living daylights out my situation and “for such a time as this” myself into thinking otherwise. But for whatever reason I feel like I’m supposed to just sit in this mess for a while.  Find a way to not just see the silver lining, but believe it and own it and live it out. 

The raw truth is that I’m just not there yet.  I fully understand that my lackluster feelings is way more about how I’m tuning my heart to see God’s grace over my life and a whole lot less about what assignments land on my desk every morning.  So here is my first step to getting over myself: My name is Natalie and I sell chicken for a living.  I don’t have a high-end corporate job.  I receive hourly pay and clock in and out just like the high schoolers that I help hire onto our team.  I come home smelling like a poultry farm.  Hi.  Will this be for dine-in or carry-out? 

Motherhood.

There’s a word I am in the process of embracing.  I have been pretty quiet from a social media front on this one.  Part of me never wants to be flashy about it, knowing that some friends haven’t been able to experience this, or they’ve experienced a miscarriage, or they’re not even married yet.  Maybe they’re just newlyweds and the thought of kids is so far removed from their mind, they can’t relate. 

But if I’m allowed to share, I am overwhelmed with all of the feelings.  The excitement, the nervousness of not knowing what we’re doing the first time around, the planning process, the fun in picking out clothes and things for the registry.  I am honestly grossed out about a lot of the stuff that comes with a baby like the whole breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and snacks in between thing that I will physically be responsible for, what happens to your body after you essentially push a bowling ball through a straw, the whole “try not to poop when you push” recommendation I keep hearing about and oh, be sure you stock up on like a lot of Depends for after birth—LIKE WHAT?!?! I need to get off of the internet like yesterday. 

But even with all of those “pack this, not that in your hospital bag” type blogs and pregnancy Pinterest posts I read when I can’t sleep at night that quite frankly freak me out, I am truly loving that this baby is a part of my life.  It’s also quite underwhelming with how few of people I feel like I can share that with at times.  Maybe that’s on me—I am of course, the over-thinker. 

Not to continue to be Johnny Raincloud tonight, but here’s the depressing truth.  Last New Year’s Eve, Hunter and I sat on on our couch, bored and sad that everyone but us was racking up a bazillion likes on their party posts.  And I remember in trying to find the positive, we said that next year would be the year that we too, would be out with friends.  We’d be the ones with Instagram stories and the glasses that said 2018 over the eyes.  But we weren’t.  We sat on the couch and essentially relived Groundhog Day from the year before. Except this time there were three of us. 

And while it’s easy to attend social events and be around people, it’s a lot harder to make friends. Real friends.  People you can do life with and share your heart with and double date with.  It’s even more challenging to find people that are going through the same life events as you are or that can at least try to put themselves in your shoes and share in the excitement.  I will sprinkle this with the fact we have no family remotely close.  So we can’t even be the cool kind of lame people that hang out with their parents or siblings to cover up their lack of other kinds of friends. In a lot of ways, in the last year and a half of living here, we have felt orphaned and we wonder if our old friends still remember us or miss us.  Social media has a way with leading us to believe that’s a solid no. 

With that being said, I am extra, extra thankful tonight that I married my best friend.  Most of the time, we have figured out a way to be content on Friday nights when we come home from work just to watch The Office and drink hot chocolate together.  I would still argue I’m living my best life being married to someone as intellectually deep, as ambitious, driven, and as side-stitching hilarious as Hunter Price.  So feel free to put your umbrellas away now.

Out of all of the moments and thoughts that have consumed me in the last few weeks as I’ve been reflecting on 2017, Christmas Eve has taken up most of my time.  As I sat shoulder to shoulder with family back home at the Cherry Hills service, I had such a moment with Jesus that I’m not sure I will ever be able to forget.  As Scripture was being read about Mary and the message that Gabriel gave to her, that she would give birth to a son and that he would be Emmanuel, God with us, I felt the silent kicks of my own son as I listened.  And for the first time in my entire life, I finally understood just how deep Mary treasured up God’s gift to her in her own heart.  

I’m not sure if I could ever sing Silent Night with the same kind of reverence that I had on that night. The candle that I held felt extra bright as I resonated with Mary and the gift that she beheld.  On Christmas Day, the 25th, as I turned 25 years old at 25 weeks pregnant, that’s what I spent time thinking about over everything else. That in part to Mary’s faithfulness, I have received this everlasting relationship with Jesus that carries on long after Christmas is over.  I have never been more grateful that he can completely make sense out of and identify with my potpourri of thoughts.  He totally gets what it’s like to be forgotten by friends.  Or to feel overlooked, unrecognized, and uninvited. 

I think the place that I’m trying to get myself to here is that I want to continue to tune my heart to what matters and most of all, to who matters.  I’m not super sure how to close out an open-ended thought, so here is my best effort:

There is a lot of life left to live in 2018 and I promise that if I ever get into Johnny Raincloud mode again, I’ll at least share the silver lining with you.  

Take care & take heart,

Natalie

Originally written January 2018