God's Worn Out Servants Read online



  God’s Worn Out Servants

  Copyright © 2013 Tattie Maggard

  Terreldor Press

  No part of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form or by any means mechanical or electronic, including recording or photocopying, without prior written permission from the author, with the exceptions of brief cited quotations in reviews, indexing for internet search engines, and brief cited quotations for use by libraries and retailers.

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  Terreldor Press

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  ISBN 9781301689446

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  Cover Design Copyright © 2013 by Marcy Rachel

  I quit teaching Sunday school the day my best friend nearly killed her eight-month-old son. My pastor said I just needed time to recover, that the kingdom needed workers like me, but I knew then I would quit forever.

  It had been unseasonably cool that April. It was one of those years when the groundhog had gotten it all wrong, and it seemed like winter would never end.

  I was in my early thirties and too busy to realize how chaotically I was living. I remember thinking being a stay at home mom would be easy. I expected to have plenty of time to clean, do laundry, run errands, and cook, with time left over to enjoy afternoon tea with my sister now and then. As my children came, first Evan, then Jessica, and unexpectedly Sarah, my life seemed to spin out of control.

  Richard was working long hours to make ends meet, and I was trying to pick up the slack at home. I already did all of the housework, but soon found myself doing the outside chores as well. I took out the garbage, mowed the lawn, and trimmed the hedges. I took the vehicles in for oil changes and inspections, and plunged every clogged toilet. Then there was all the taxiing: doctor appointments, soccer practice, ballet lessons, and after-school activities. I was the world’s busiest supermom, and that was only my weekdays.

  On weekends, I served as church secretary and Sunday school teacher for first through fourth graders. Our church was few in number, and most weren’t members. Most of the volunteer work fell to my best friend, Kallie, and me. The rest were unwilling or unreliable. We cleaned the church once a week, cooked most of the food for monthly pot-luck dinners, and were responsible for any other special occasions that came up. It was a lot of work, but I considered it an offering to God. After all, who would do it if not us? We were wearing ourselves thin and starting to dread church altogether. It was what God wanted us to do, I was sure, though I felt no closer to Him doing it.

  “Pastor had better quit giving those kids gum before church, or he’s going to have to start scraping it off the seats himself,” Kallie complained as we were cleaning the sanctuary one day. I got to know Kallie pretty well from the time we spent serving together. Over time, our cleaning sessions turned into gripe sessions. We vented about our kids, our husbands, and everything in between. It wasn’t as if we could complain to anyone else, and letting off a little steam was therapeutic for us both. Some people watch TV, others have a glass of wine, but Kallie and I had each other.

  Kallie held down a full time job, was finishing a college degree, and did most of the same work I did at church. She was the only friend I had who wasn’t a stay-at-home mom, probably because she never made me feel badly about it. I was far busier than I’d been before I quit my job. I felt like I understood why so many women chose to work outside of the home. Sometimes the jealousy worked both ways, but I’d never let that show to any of my friends. I was “living the dream.”

  “You know, I dread coming here tomorrow,” Kallie said with a painful expression. “It’s awful, I know, but just once I wish I could rest on Sunday instead of feeling like I’m going to work.” She wound up the vacuum cord onto its hooks. Her dark pony tail swayed as she worked, and the cord swung back and forth.

  “I know it. I can’t remember the last time I got to just sit and listen to a sermon or a Sunday school class. It’s probably a good thing, though. If I sit still more than a few minutes I’ll fall asleep.”

  I gathered the songbooks from each pew, and placed them neatly inside the holder on each of the seat’s backs.

  “Still staying up late with Evan?” she asked.

  “Yeah. With his practice running late and Sarah’s ballet lessons, it’s dark before we can even get a start on his schoolwork. If he doesn’t get his grades up he won’t be able to play ball. Honestly, I’m tempted to let it go; at least that would be one less appointment I have to keep up with.” I threw my hands in the air in surrender then plopped onto the red-cushioned pew.

  Kallie laughed. “Did you play ball when you were young?”

  “No way. My mother didn’t have time to take us anywhere.”

  “And you turned out okay…right?” Kallie wheeled the vacuum out the side door of the sanctuary. I could hear the wheels reach the hardwood floor then roll down the hall and into the broom closet in the back. When I heard her footsteps near the door, I continued.

  “I know… I just want to be a good parent.”

  Kallie gave me the look that said, come on.

  “I need to drop a few activities, but I haven’t figured out which ones yet. With college, a full time job, and kids, how do you do it? You’re the superwoman around here.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a zombie, you know? I feel like I’m just going through the motions.” She stopped and looked around the now-clean sanctuary. “I really don’t have time for this but I’d feel guilty not to help. Pastor doesn’t have any help around here but us.”

  “Do you know what Carol asked me last Sunday?” Carol was our church’s oldest and most contrary member.

  “She asked you where in the Bible you’d been studying,” Kallie said flatly.

  “How’d you know?” I asked.

  “She’s been asking everyone that. It was only a matter of time until she got to you.”

  “What did you say?” I turned around with my knee in the seat to face my friend.

  “I told her I was too busy to study anything other than my college books right now.”

  “That was…honest. What’d she say?” Carol had a way of being very direct with people.

  “She said she’d been asking everyone in the church that question and so far only pastor, and apparently herself, study the bible on a regular basis outside of church. She said that was a shame.”

  “I would…if I had the time.” I tried once again to decide if I was doing something wrong. “It’s ironic, you know. I don’t have time to study the Bible because I’m too busy working at church.”

  “It’s crazy. We’re too busy for Jesus. There’s something seriously wrong about that, but for the life of me I don’t know how to fix it.”

  She chuckled half-heartedly, but I could tell her thoughts made her feel the same way they did me: confused. How could we be working so hard trying to do everything right, but still be wrong?

  “I’ve got to get out of here. Jason has to leave in a bit and our usual sitter just quit. See you later, Melanie.”

  “Take care, Kallie,” I said as she hurried out the double doors in the back of the sanctuary. With the cleaning done, I turned out the lights and locked up, but my mind was still full of clutter.

  My worries plagued me throughout the week. I began to see all the unnecessary things I was doing—all the busy work that
was my own choosing. It was time to cut something out, but what? How could I tell Evan he couldn’t play ball, or tell Jessica she had to quit ballet? What would Sarah want to do in a few years? I was already teaching the children to pick up after themselves, and we ate too much fast food for lack of time. How could I make more time for God and would there ever be any time left for me?

  “What about question twenty-two?” I asked Evan at the kitchen table late that evening.

  “It’s extra credit. I don’t have to do it.”

  “If it’s extra credit, it could help you get your math grade up.”

  “But Mom, I’m so tired. Can’t I just go to bed?” His brown eyes pleaded with mine.

  “Evan.” I paused. Could he be looking for a way out as well? The thought had never crossed my mind before. “What would you think about giving up some of your extracurricular activities? Then you could sleep longer.”

  His face fell. “Fine. I’ll do it. Give me the book.” He held his hand out.

  “Don’t you get tired of all the running?” I asked.

  “I said I’ll do it, okay?”

  I gave him the book and watched him meticulously work out the math problem.

  “Is the answer seventy-eight?” he asked at last. I punched in the numbers in the calculator and nodded my head.

  “Goodnight, Mom,” he said, then quickly disappeared down the hallway. Playing ball was what he wanted. He was even willing to do extra credit math problems and lose sleep to do it. I