Up from bondage

Hello, Christians. There's no real point to this post, other than to just check in behind the scenes. According to Sitemeter, one of my earlier posts that has made me especially popular with the perverts of the internet is Christian Housewives in Bondage, in which I lament my exhausted state from just having moved in with Jesus. It's been nine and a half months since then, and since I am inspired by the more personal style of blogging that I have been reading lately over at Nancy-Cons Mom of Three, Evidently.org, and Beancounters, I felt I owed it to the Christian women of America to give an update on what it's like to be a Bride of Christ.

Actually, it's pretty damn great. One of the more prominent messages presented to me growing up was that you should always put others' needs before your own, so that they will love you more. I've got a lot of truly horrible stuff happening in my life presently (cancer-stricken sibling and close friend -- now in remission, thank God; beloved old grampa cat with failing kidneys), so even though I thought that I was valiantly persevering in a manner consistent with my upbringing, it still felt as though I was losing ground with each step, like I was walking chest-deep in the river against a particularly strong current. Being with Jesus means that He can carry me for a change, instead of me carrying everyone else. And more importantly, I can let him. That's not something I think I could have learned with anyone else but Him, by the way.

Also, Jesus started a medical program, so despite all the fun we're having watching violence in Middle East escalate to a point where Rapture is a near certainty, don't get too happy, girls. It's a four year program, so you still have to pay your bills this month. He quit His job to start this program, and surprisingly, this transition in our lives has been nothing short of amazing in every way. You'd think not having a source of income and wondering how you were going to be paying your bills for the next four years would be a source of alarm for some people, but in comparison with all the stress Jesus took home from His job for us, it's a truly minor consideration. We'll just trust that what I make at the Beauty Palace and the student loans the Democrats grudgingly give Him will be enough to see us through.

Another of the benefits from His entering school is that I now have TWO GLORIOUS NIGHTS A WEEK TO MYSELF ALONE IN OUR APARTMENT. To put my circumstances in context: For the past nine and a half months, I have had approximately 35 minutes to myself in this apartment Monday through Friday. Jesus' job put Him out the door at 7:30 and home before I was, and if I didn't want to be late -- which I was, constantly -- I had until 8:05 to get out door and on to the bus stop.

These meagerly 35 minutes were all I had allotted to myself for performing the morning ablutions and conducting my prayers while applying makeup. Sure, we could get up earlier, but as it was, we were already getting up at 4:30 a.m. to protest the gym three mornings a week. There wasn't a lot of fat built into this regimen, at least not in the morning.

It became impossible to leave on time, as I could not resist tacking on another 5...10...20 minutes onto that little bit I had to myself. Conchita was far more gracious than I think I would have been had our positions been reversed, but since I theoretically get in before she does, it's entirely possible it never really showed up on her radar as a problem, despite the occasional pointed comment by my co-workers.

Now, with Jesus' new schedule, He's got 75 minutes to get ready by Himself once I'm out the door -- not enough to be considered luxurious, but surely enough time to get the job done. I am in a far better mood, a discovery I made shortly after getting to work that very first morning. I am also trying out this idea that radical change can, in very rare circumstances, affect things for the better.

So, how am I celebrating my new Freedom? Well, I spot-cleaned the carpet, and then I decided to blog. I waivered for a moment before doing it on Edicts of Nancy. Theoretically, this is the sort of thing that my inner selfish hedonist was all gung-ho about doing over at that shamefully neglected other blog. Well, you obviously can't trust those people with anything, so here it is. This was sort of fun, though, so maybe I'll do more of this in the future. Praise Him!