No is a word I’ve been hearing a lot lately—whether in job rejections, my plans with God, or even from my own mouth as I raise my son.
Before learning about my second pregnancy, I was applying to administrative jobs left and right. Most of my work experience is in that field, and it’s where I’ve always felt comfortable. Frustration with Branseats, my catering business, had already set in, and I felt unable to carry the same responsibilities as before. Having children meant I wanted to contribute more to our household’s stability alongside my husband, Mario, and while Branseats gave me that at times, it wasn’t consistent enough. So, I decided it was time to transition back into employment, and I naively believed it would be an easy journey.
Instead, job searching felt like walking through a storm—both literally and figuratively.
I had my sights set on a dream administrative role in a culinary arts department at a technical college in Georgia, where Mario and I had once lived. It felt like everything was lining up perfectly. We wanted to move back. Mario’s roots are in Georgia, and we agreed it would be a good place for our growing family. We made plans to relocate, traveled for the interview, and even started considering housing options. But then Hurricane Helene hit, trapping us in chaos. As the interview process unfolded, I felt conflicted—I knew deep down this wasn’t part of God’s plan for me, but I wanted it so badly.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t get the job.
Looking back, I can see how many “no’s” were protecting us from rushing into something not meant for us. Our plans weren’t set in stone, and I thank God for that. But at the time, it stung. Between August and the day Mario and I decided to pause my job search, I faced rejection after rejection. My resume, though packed with experience, was outdated and scattered. It reflected someone interested in everything but settled in nothing. I was willing to take less than I deserved, but even then, the answer was “no.”
Now, I realize those “no’s” weren’t rejections—they were redirections.
Just as I say “no” to Jaxon when he’s testing boundaries, God says “no” to prevent me from settling for something that isn’t His best. Telling Jaxon no isn’t easy—especially when he flashes those long lashes and starts to whine. But I know it’s necessary to protect him, shape his character, and remind him he’s always safe under my watch.
For me, those recent no’s have done the same. They’ve kept me from settling, shifted my focus to what’s right in front of me, and reminded me to appreciate the safety and stability I’ve found for the first time in my life.
I pout when Mario tells me no, too. But even in those moments, I’m reminded that not every answer will be yes. And when I bring my desires to God, His answer—even after a long period of waiting—may still be no because His plans are greater than mine.
I’m blessed. Life hasn’t skipped a beat just because I’m not working. Mario often reminds me that his priority is taking care of our family, and all he asks is that I take care of things at home. I gladly do.
The hardest part of this journey has been accepting life as it is now and who I am now. As a mom and wife, I often come in last place in the order of the day. My priorities have shifted from “me” to “we.” It’s not always easy, and I struggle with this new balance of power in my marriage where I’m no longer holding the pillars of responsibility.
But I’m learning to remind myself: no, you’re doing enough. No, you don’t have to do it all. No, you don’t need to rush. Be present. Be grateful. Be still.