It seems to be a pattern: every few years, I look up and find myself mid-crisis right in the middle of Easter week.
Perhaps crisis is the wrong word. Maybe it’s more like mid-uncertainty.
Five years ago, I discovered that the cloud backup service I was paying monthly to secure all of our work computers wasn’t actually backing anything up at all. Our credit card had been compromised a few months prior, and we failed to update our automatic payment information, so they stopped the service. Somehow their email notifications never came through to us.
I uncovered this lapse, of course, because my computer crashed and crashed hard. It was dead. Every client job I had ever done, every template designed over the prior 11 years, every specialty font downloaded, the library of vintage images that I had painstakingly scanned in and made print-ready, every product design created… it was all housed inside a lifeless box of dead fibres and wires. I could not access any of it. I could not resuscitate it.
Jacob, the Computer Whisperer, took my machine home with him to try his own version of CPR. Each day was a roller coaster: It’s hopeless. It might be okay. Your files are permanently corrupted. A specialist might be able to recapture some of your files, but that will cost around $10,000. And it’s not guaranteed. Give me a few more days. Hold tight. Maybe. Probably not.
Easter week, I found myself on my knees begging that God would bring something dead back to life for me.
Two years ago at Easter, I was 6 months pregnant. Four months prior, I discovered I was pregnant. Ty and I stood in our kitchen and looked at this positive test result and laughed and laughed and laughed. I had tears streaming down my cheeks because it was just so funny. Our girls were in middle school and then THIS?!
I started out crying from laughter and then I kept on crying for very different reasons. I was scared of so much change for our family. I was afraid of being too old (not having enough energy) to start over. I was unsure of where to put this baby—I mean a literal place to sleep. I worried incessantly about how I was going to pay for childcare and how I would bring a baby to work. I was terrified that this baby would ‘undo’ all of the luxuries that Ty and I had slowly built back into our lives (like date nights, Saturday morning sleeping in, workflow at our office). I know how selfish this sounds. I mourned the loss of what I thought was ‘the good life.’
I was caught by surprise, and my Spirit and mind had to catch up with my body.
I prayed for joy. Other people prayed with me: close friends that wouldn’t judge me when I cried and said, “I just feel so guilty that I’m not happy about this! I need joy! God has got to bring me the joy!”
Easter week, I found myself just beginning to grab onto the joy, believing the good… Choosing joy in the midst of uncertainty.
And here we are again. We just signed a lease on our new Kingston Pike studio two weeks ago. Floor demolition began yesterday. We have a few months of build-out and construction before us. In the meantime, we have to vacate our current space by April’s end. This leaves us with a lapse… a three month gap is likely.
I was explaining this to a friend last week and she was agog: You mean your doors will be closed for a quarter of your year? Yes. I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.
Our big sample boards are empty. Our Moving Sale has pretty much wiped out a lot of our floor product, so empty tables and stands scatter across our sales floor. Empty cabinets, empty empty drawers, closed up boxes… it feels bare. And weird. We’re about to have computers hooked up on our dining room table at home, a garage filled with studio furniture, product in plastic tubs scattered throughout the house.
Maybe it isn’t crisis or even uncertainty. Maybe it’s just not being able to see what’s in front of me. I suppose another way to say it is that I’m feeling the the lack of control over my very own life.
How do you operate a business with the doors closed? The timing sure seems off to me.
Miraculously, the computer files were brought back to life and transferred to a new machine. Only a few were gone forever. That crisis led me (a naturally disorganized person) to change the way we manage certain systems at the studio for the betterment of our whole business.
With Eden, the joy came and it came BIG. We are besotted with Eden. Our entire family is sort of obsessed with her. Saturday mornings are now snuggle-in-the-bed-with-the-baby mornings and those date nights I was worried about are actually turning into date nights for free because she has two big sisters to babysit. We get the best of both worlds.
And the timing of this move? I don’t know… I suppose there were a lot of people looking at a dead body hanging on a cross on Friday that thought the timing was pretty terrible. Little did they know that Sunday was coming with something way bigger than they thought possible.
I’m encouraged by the words of Paul: “And faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”
Happy Good Friday. The best is yet to come.