fruit of our labor...

I kind of turned a corner in my life recently. I have been considering the possibility of leaving my job to stay home with Daniel. Even though I really enjoy the work I do, and value my colleagues tremendously, our research agenda is going to get very complicated in the fall (more travel, more project schools, basically more work), and it's already difficult to cover those days when I have to do site visits, as it is, in terms of getting the kids to and from daycare without leaving them in for extended periods of time.

It's not a clear or easy decision for me. I have really wrestled with it, mostly because my identity is really wrapped up in the job (I just noticed that I put my job first in my personal profile, for example). I don't make a ton of money, but the income definitely helps. (Ok, compared to the other jobs I've done, it IS a lot of money.) Plus, I get to work from home, which provides wonderful flexibility. Plus, I find the work fulfilling in many ways, in the sense that I get to write, read, and apply myself to various different types of problems.

I also think that the job provides a lot of continuity for me--anybody who has made it all the way through graduate school has something seriously wrong with them. (I have a whole theory about universities as nutjob repositories--I'll have to post about that one sometime). Anyway, I get a lot of validation about being able to spout my job title and describe the work I do (more, maybe than the amount of validation that I get from actually DOING the job, which is probably not good).

But with Dan turning 1 and Ginny growing like a weed, I've come to realize that there's one thing they can't make more of: time. We can get by on Adam's salary, for awhile. And then I heard a sermon at church the other week, based on Isaiah 55:1-3:

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me, listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.

You know how you sometimes crack open the Bible at random and put your finger on a verse, semi-hoping for the answer to a problem? Yeah, I know, it's self-serving and sort of an occult way to do business with the Lord, but everybody has done it. Well, listening to that sermon was kind of like that, except that I really did feel like the pastor's words were meant for me--at least, they were meant for me to consider. And I have. So here goes....