So I’m back.
I didn’t realize that my tribute to Travis would be my last entry for 20 days, because if I had, I certainly would not have allowed the picture of me and my pesky, tag-along friend Mr. Dubble Chen, to remain front and center for such a long and unnecessary period of time.
For the three of you still reading my blog, I apologize for the disruption and making you wonder if some travesty had fallen upon my family or if we had been kidnapped and taken to Timbuktu to serve as slaves for heathens wearing bone fragments through their nostrils and wooden toothpicks through their bellybuttons.
In a previous post, I mentioned that big changes were in store for our family. Changes that are exciting, yet uncomfortable; energizing, yet at the same time physically exhausting.
For some time my husband has felt led to start his own medical practice. He has been practicing medicine for about fifteen years, in different settings and environments, and through provisions and details that only God could have masterminded, found himself in a position that made this long term goal possible.
We purchased a small building back in December, and thus began the task of furnishing, organizing and supplying an office in order to be able to start serving patients at the beginning of February. Because John continued to see a full load of patients through the middle of January at his previous practice, a larger amount of the “setting up” landed on the shoulders of yours truly.
(This of course, makes perfect sense seeing how I am so very qualified. Considering that this time last year I was teaching a softball course at a local college, it is strikingly clear that I am exactly the type of person one needs when opening a medical practice.)
The learning curve has been steep, both from a small business owner’s perspective and most importantly, from one that is spiritual. I have been out of my element, completely out of my comfort zone, for the past two months, which is a stomach-clenching and frightening place to be. But at the same time, experiencing God’s provision repeatedly through this process that at times can seem like a free-fall has been an extraordinary journey that has stretched and challenged my faith.
There has not been a single area of personal strength I have been able to rely on because I’m not strong in any of the tasks required of me. Complete trust in God during this process has been the only way I have survived in an arena that I never intended to enter. However, as proven again and again in my life, make a plan and watch God laugh.
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)
We are entering week three of John’s new practice, and things are starting to settle somewhat. A sweet girl has been hired to take my place, allowing part-time hours for me which is a blessing to my family, especially considering that our dirty laundry had begun to spill over into the streets and situations requiring diet coke as a breakfast beverage for young children is just plain wrong.
(Also, it seems that hiring someone who is actually experienced in the medical field is advantageous to the patient schedule. Apparently, a morning full of geriatric pap smears for my internist husband is not how he prefers to roll. How was one supposed to know?)
So for now, I hope that I am back on track bloggin’ about joy, with maybe a few more anecdotes from my new work environment.
Of course, only after I procure clean underwear for my family and purchase milk for breakfast. I do still try to exercise a few priorities.