The Little House in Zachary, Louisiana and a Dream Dashed

May 28

Mom and Papa — My mom and her dad, Papa (PawPaw)

So the day came, and I went to her high rise (at least that is what it seemed like to a girl from the middle of nowhere East Texas) with her and observed as she went about her day. I observed she took calls, had meetings, made decisions, gave orders to the assistants and talked business and life with others on her floor. Details of her day mostly elude me because when given the option between a few tasks I could take part in, I chose to file papers. I had always longed to own really cool office supplies and meticulously take a stack of papers, organize them, and file them away into the perfectly neat and tidy filing system. That day, my dream came true. I used paperclips, staplers, sticky notes and file folders to organize several large stacks of paper and file them away perfectly.

She thanked me for doing such a great job and remarked on how the assistants will be grateful to miss out on the filing. And I beamed.

Well, as much as Wednesday Adams could beam.

Later that evening, as we prepared to sit down for my mom’s favorite dinner—boiled shrimp Cajun style—Papa asked me if I had liked my experience that day and what I had learned.

I think frequently about a conversation I had with my PaPa (pronounced PawPaw - he chose the spelling) when I was a young teen. His wife (my step-grandmother) was an executive at General Electric—which at the time was a booming business.

We went to visit for a few days and he decided that while I was there, I should go to work with her and see how the day of a strong independent female exec looked. Excited at the opportunity, I eagerly awaited the alarm to get ready to leave. She was a tough lady but kind to me and we got along fine.

Oddly, I still remember the following details well. I was standing in their dining room as a large pot of shrimp was being poured out onto the table—this was not a meal that required plates and cutlery—he was at the head of the table and other family members were moving around preparing for the meal. The kitchen radio—a G/E under-cabinet mounted number (state-of-the art and extra fancy in my mind) played in the background. Excited at the opportunity to talk about my day, I happily replied, “I learned I want to be a secretary”.

There may as well have been a dark cloud suddenly engulfing that little house in Zachary, Louisiana, because the look that came across his face was pure shock and indignation. I will spare us all the vulgarity that came from his mouth, but the bottom line was that anyone in all the world could be a secretary. Why would I possibly want to do that?!

And just like that, two emotions rushed in. First, my overflowing cup of fulfillment was absolutely shattered. The excitement I felt all day and even a few seconds earlier suddenly turned into a vapor and sucked back into a tiny box deep within. Second, I got mad. I went from sad to mad in about .5 seconds flat. When those two emotions collide, I typically get quiet—well, even more quiet than I was most of the time as a kid. I shut down and was done with that conversation and his ridiculousness. I remember nothing of what he said from there, because it no longer mattered to me. He had the opportunity to react in a myriad of different ways, and he had made his choice. I remember my mother being frustrated with him for his reaction, but it did little good. I loved him dearly and had several fond memories of him—but that day is not one of them.

So, why do I think about this memory frequently?

Well—because now that I am all grown up with quite a few jobs and opportunities behind me, do you want to know what I have become? A secretary. Basically anyway. Except now we call them Administrative Assistants, or in my case, a Virtual Assistant. I started my own business, set my own hours, do only the work God gifted me in and that I love, and when it all boils down to the basics, he would still call me a secretary. And that’s ok. I don’t enjoy being the head honcho. I enjoy serving those who God has called to be the movers and shakers. My calling is to help those women run their business, share their ministry, write their books, and serve Him. I have one client who regularly says, “Thank you for making me look good.” That is an honor for me. It is exciting to me I can manage the websites, automate their workflows, create the landing pages, help them with business strategy, operate the tech platforms they have no interest in learning, and still take the time to go into their accounts with 100,000 unread emails or jumbled digital files and meticulously organize them so they can have what they need at their fingertips.

These are the things that make my heart sing.

You know how people say that moms do not work, but anyone paying attention knows that they do about 20 jobs in one? It is similar to a virtual assistant. Gone are the days of simply answering phones, taking messages, and fetching coffee. I can also say that a job like that doesn’t sound bad at all—they just rarely exist these days. No, today administrative assistants have a much heavier workload—I was in that role for many years. And as a virtual assistant, my role spans from occasional basic admin tasks to detailed technical skill sets. Much like a woman who is “just a mom”, it is not always easy to define my role when discussing how a day in the life of being me looks. We could talk all day about the skills I have developed over the years or the projects I handle. Instead, I love to share that my mandate is to help female Christian entrepreneurs run freely toward the mandate God has on their lives by partnering with them to help navigate the areas that trip them up the most.

This lights my soul fire.

That fire that Papa attempted to extinguish all those years ago, thinking it was best for me. I know now that all he wanted was to see me thrive. To see me be the strong female leader I was created to be. What he failed to consider was that back home I had another grandfather—just as gruff and just as emotionally intelligent (insert eye roll here)—who allowed me to sit and watch as he worked in his home office (a small corner in their master bedroom with a metal desk, a really cool old typewriter, and a metal stapler that I thought was the absolute perfect addition to any office). I watched him create invoices, open mail, pay bills, plan jobs, and more.

So, while one grandfather offered me the opportunity to see how a female executive could look in the “real world”—another grandfather showed me that strong people also run businesses from home, do hard work, and take the bull by the horns when necessary.
I simply took the best of both scenarios and honored my Heavenly Father when He said “we are going to start a business”. Well, my first reaction was “good luck, I’ve tried that before and it didn’t work out so well.”

What I didn’t realize at the time was that I missed the “we” part of His statement and THAT has made all the difference in this beautiful thing WE have created.