When I opened a small marketing business many years ago my company slogan was “image is perception”. I’m not even sure where I came up with it idea, but the slogan has proved to play a role that deeply has ruled in my life. I guess I’ve always carried the ability of “make believe”, or “fake it until you make it”. I bought into a philosophy that if we project success we will find success. Even now, nearly two years after Josh went down, sometimes I feel like a broken record feeding the same answer every time someone asks, “how are y’all doing?”.. I say “great!”.. Then I change the subject to take the focus off of me. My Granny was like that. Right or wrong, she never wanted people to know when she was hurting.
As I write this entry with a heavy chest and a face full of tears, I ask myself what I’ve gained by pretending to be OK. Will I keep pretending I’m OK if we lose our home? – which seems to be unavoidable at this point. And I search to understand what purpose would that serve? I have two teenagers and a disabled husband with special needs. What does a homeless family of 4 (already broken physically and emotionally) look like? Why would God allow this to happen to us? Haven’t we been through enough?
I know without a doubt that by His grace and His grace alone we’ve made it this far. Josh lost his job immediately when he had the stroke – living in a hospital unable to speak or think or even raise his head up – let alone pick up his paralyzed body to drive a truck to work and support his family. Right away Perry Homes put Josh on unpaid leave, then terminated him 6 months later. They didn’t give him the bonuses he’d earned up that point – they didn’t even send a card to the hospital. It’s just business I guess. Then, they dropped our insurance. And as we were sent home with no help, I had to care for Josh 24/7 – so I didn’t have many options. But I had a wonderful idea how to make it work!
I worked fast while we were living in the med center to form a plan to keep my real estate business going – putting together a team of family to handle my clients while I couldn’t. In the following months the Lord gave us so much help – selling all of my accrued listings and giving us income to stay afloat. I re-branded my new team “79 Luxury Homes” in honor of the place where I’d found the Lord – in Josh’s ICU room (room # 79), and I had so much hope and excitement about the new business plan. I had decided that I would take all of the compassion I’d been given through our trials and truly love my customers – work from my heart, not motivated by the money, and I’d care about their lives and their needs on a level I wasn’t able to before. I’d take that the testimony of our troubles and turn it into a success story of making it through even the most impossible circumstances.
It all sounded so great, (my plan). When I got my first listing call after Josh’s stroke, my mother-in-law sat in for me with Josh so I could take the appointment. It was a referral from a previous client. The couple was really nice, they went on and on about how highly their friend had spoken of me. I got my mom to help out while I worked with stagers and photographers to get the house listed. Then, less than a week after the listing went public, the home owner called me to tell me that her and her husband had decided to fire me because of my husband’s stroke – she said that they felt I should spend my time caring for my husband, instead of trying to sell her home – despite the work was already done to list her home at that point. I tried to explain that I’d already launched everything necessary. I also told her that I was our only source of income now and I desperately needed the business – I promised her that I would work very hard for her. But, she cut me off in mid sentence and said, “I’ve prayed about this and we’re firing you.” I asked her, “What about all the money I just invested in your home? Will you at least reimburse my expenses spent on you?” She said, “Well, we never gave you back the signed contract so we have no obligation to pay you anything.”
I fought back the tears that were clearly hindering my ability to speak and whispered, “ok, God bless you,” then hung up the phone… I sat there holding my phone, crying on the floor asking the Lord why this was happening. I thought about her answer, which made no sense to me. She prayed and then decided to fire me? Was she suggesting that God answered her prayer by telling her to stiff me for $1,000 I’d spent to list her home and then fire me for no reason? She didn’t even give me a chance – how come the Lord didn’t tell her how amazing I am at real estate? Didn’t she read my reviews and research my success in this business? Didn’t she listen to her friend that had referred her to me in the first place? “No one works harder than me God. I never lose clients. Why would this happen to me now?”
That was only the beginning of a theme I would soon get used to in the months to come. I’ve met some wonderful people and had a few closings here and there – clients that are now my friends. Some of them even call me occasionally for advice and to talk about God. But the little business that I’ve been able to mustard up was just enough to tread water and buy us a little time. For the most part, I’ve painfully watched my vision of 79 luxury homes (named after Josh’s ICU room number), dwindle away to nothing.
I guess I was onto something back in my 20’s when I came up with the slogan “image is perception.” The image of what I used to be is what people wanted – to say they’ve hired the realtor that had a picture-perfect life – the successful, top of the charts lady that didn’t wear any flaws for the world to see. Now I’m the lady with a broken life that brings her husband along to showings in his wheelchair. I guess this isn’t the image of success that people are drawn to.
Folks in this community used to look at me with such respect. They’d say, “oh you’re Jodi, the realtor that sells all those beautiful luxury homes.” Now they look at me like a wounded bird to be pitied from a distance.
Jesus told the disciples “the world will hate you because it hated me first.” I used to read this and visualize people spitting and screaming and throwing stones at his disciples as they preached the Gospel. But as I sift through the ruins of our life today, His words reveal new meaning to me – I see us, as a modern day example of those rejected by a world where we just don’t seem to belong anymore.
People used to invite us to parties and gatherings. We would show up to our son’s games and parents would come sit with us (people loved to talk sports with Josh, especially as he coached many of these boys since they were little). Now when we go out in public, we just get stared at like we’re of another species. Josh tells me sometimes how uncomfortable it makes him the way everyone stares and whispers as we go by. And when we’re not in public, it’s like we no longer exist at all. None of our old friends call us anymore. No one checks in to see how we’re doing. Even our own family seem worlds away most of the time. If our phone rings it all, it’s usually our kids – with the exception of my mother. She checks on me every night before she goes to bed. I thank the Lord daily for her support, her comfort and love.
The word of God says to carry each-other’s burdens. But living in a broken world, the evidence of Christ in us isn’t always easy to see. I think about the crucifixion of Jesus and I’m baffled by it, I really am. How could all those people (even the ones he taught, and fed and healed them of sickness), stand by and watch him go through such anguish – many even cheering on his demise. Not one stood up for him – even Peter denied him 3 times. Yet he loved us anyway. He died for us anyway and He even begged the Father to forgive us in the midst of his suffering.
Jesus said to follow Him we must pick up OUR cross. I’ve heard that said so many times as a point of instruction. “Well, just pick up your cross and follow him.” – sounds so simple when spoken without context, but what does it mean really? And why did his death have to be so cruel and so publicized for all to witness and take part in the story that would be told for the next 2,000 years? What if taking up your cross is to walk in shoes of utter distress, accepting the rejection of everyone around you – while speaking the words, “forgive them Father.” What if taking up your cross is accepting that no matter how much it hurts, it’s purposed for His name’s sake? Jesus said what we do to the least of these we do to Him. I guess “the least of these” has to be someone… I just never thought it would us.
Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 25 For whoever would save his life[a] will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. 26 For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?
Paul didn’t write letters saying “hey look, I’m following Jesus and everything’s great!”… He told the truth. He told about his beatings, he told about those who opposed him and he told about his struggles and his persecution and his imprisonment. He didn’t hide his cross in some make believe fantasy that would make him acceptable to the broken world that rebuked his very existence.
As I ponder these things, I ask myself, “Who I am to pretend everything will be ok – to hide my cross from the world?” And I wonder, why do I keep making plans to fix something too heavy for me to bare? Why do I feel so defeated that 79 isn’t working out like I’d hoped? Why do I struggle to hold onto things that my hands aren’t big enough to hold?
I know there are people all over this world today hurting. There are people starving and thirsty and cold. There are people hopeless and defeated, drowning in great despair.
Lord I pray that I’m strong enough to accept your will for my life, no matter how hard this cross may to carry. I see that every plan of mine has failed, over and over again. And here I sit, reminded that I have no control over my life. You know how much we’ve hurt and how much we’ve lost. If I am to lose more, help me to do it with love in my heart. Help me to never let this world turn me bitter and to keep surrendering all of me until I have nothing left of me, and am filled with only you. Jesus you are the author of my story and finisher of my faith. In you, I will trust.
In Jesus name. Amen.