Raised, furled, & awkwardly employed

That look of bewilderment.  I’ve been on the receiving end of it lately.  I’ve witnessed the occasional furled upper lip and definitely the awkward pause inserted into conversation.  My lack of a full-time job has seemed to be culprit for causing these puzzled reactions.  Maybe more accurately the problem has been my lack of automatic desire for full-time work.  Recently I discussed with someone about different types of work.  Unintentionally my half of our conversation centered on volunteering, and by the time we finally talked about my new employment at the community college, I heard her words spoken almost in exasperation, “Do they pay you for that?”  I noticed the tilt of her head and the near-snarl of her lip and wondered if she really meant, “Surely you bring in some kind of income, don’t you?”  On another occasion with a different person, I caught the ogling eye that politely insinuated, “How can you be satisfied with volunteering and unpaid roles?”  Maybe in this case she more pointedly meant, “Why would you want to be satisfied with unpaid roles?”  When I began teaching piano at home, I asked the Lord if I should charge a lesson fee, and if so, how much.  Such joy comes in the teaching of music, yet fees can run $25 for a 30-minute slot easily, and consequently lessons for many become an impossibility.  When I told a friend I charged $15 per lesson, she responded, “Why?  You know you can charge more, don’t you?”  All I know is that I prayed and felt inclined toward $15.  I do realize I fit neither the career mold nor the stay-at-home mold.  Honestly I want only the follow-the-Lord mold, and that’s one that has many different appearances.  All across the years of my variety of jobs, whether full-time pay, part-time pay, or no pay at all, the Lord has provided abundantly for my family the necessities of living.  Yet my friends’ recent facial expressions have reminded me that we’re strangers in this world (1 Peter 2:11).  Occasionally we’re strangers among our fellow Christians, though we love them all the same.  And actually, when we pause and rethink why we do what we do, it can be a good thing—raised eyebrows and all.