How Did I Get Here?

I’m short listed on a very short list (one of two) for my dream job.

Dream job, I tell you.

I know, I know, no job is perfect. But when the job description lists all the requirements and I tick them off one-by-one, and the “required experience” sounds like you’re reading my résumé? And when I’m in the first job interview and the man lists the additional parts of the job they expect and my heart skips a beat and I literally fist pump right there in front of the three of them in the interview because he’s listing things I’ve always wanted to do and loved to do and didn’t dare dream enough to even write it down but held it safe hidden away in the corner of my heart where only impossible dreams live?

I think that’s a pretty good fit for the way I’m wired.

Don’t get me wrong. I like the job I have. I have a Facebook album of photos called “I Love My Job” because many days, I do. It’s been a good three years. It was a quality of life choice in March 2011 to take this part time position to help cover the cost of my son’s university tuition.

It was a conscious, intentional choice to put myself in what I knew was a subordinate role, even though my skillsets and experience could have probably fit better in a supervisory position in a corporate setting. But God knew I was going to be wounded. And God knew I needed a safe place to be when the police came knocking that December morning that my husband took the train to heaven.

And God knew I needed people around me who could love on me and support me and extend grace to me and be patient with me while I limped along in a blinding grief fog for nearly a year, forgetting things along the way, dropping duties like pennies through the grate of the sidewalk and still they let me stay and I grew stronger. And God knew I needed the intercessory prayer team that prayed every week for my personal requests that I tagged onto the ones that were in the request box from Sunday. And God knew I needed to get to know Kim and Tina and Curtis and Sammy and Jenn and Ashleigh and Nairn and David and Sarah and most of all Jared and Awlwyn and Craig. And time and space doesn’t allow me to list all the people who are part of this little church who have loved on me – all 200+ of them. And God knew I needed to be in a place that agrees with Him that spiritual gifts aren’t gender based and allow a woman to share His word and His work and lead His worship.

But.

Even though I like my job, it doesn't cut it any more (economically), since I am the sole breadwinner for myself and my university student son. Sure, I have my husband's sports car to sell. His hockey season tickets won't be renewed, I can eventually downsize my home and invest the difference and there's a modest nest egg which is well invested for retirement, but that's got to last for my whole retirement and I plan to live a long time. So in the meantime, I have living expenses that exceed my income and the savings account is dwindling.

I have resigned my position. The people in leadership who need to know already know this. There are a myriad of reasons why I chose to do it now, and those reasons don’t belong in a public forum. If I am not the selected candidate for my dream job, then I confidently say it was not God’s dream for me and I wait again, in anticipation of what is next.

So how did I get here?

In December, we focus on the Advent, the waiting, the anticipation, of the coming of Christ. And I read and meditate and feel like I’ve spent my whole life waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

For what?

God has already shown up. I wait on the Spirit’s movement. Wait for that Voice behind me that says, “Here is the way, walk ye in it.”  The Voice that says, “Behold, I am doing a NEW thing!”  The one who is Emmanuel, God with us.

God. With. Me.

He is here. How did I get here? Through the with-God life. Holding onto God and when I had no strength to hold, God holds onto me. He always holds me. And whispers, "I am your sheild and portion; your protection and provision. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got this.”

Sitting with my Spiritual Director one cold Tuesday in November, knowing the last job search took seven months, I'm looking for discernment in how to proceed in my career shift. She asks, “What is your dream job?” I list everything off, thinking it sounds like a “Jack of All Trades, Master of None” résumé. But it would be my dream to do it all and in God’s great wisdom and omnipotence, did I dare believe that it would be possible that all these things could come together in one place? I have a tiny sliver of hope.

And so I wait.

And one month later, a friend sends me a job description for a place I’d be honored to work and I meet all the job requirements and I have the required experience and I decide to apply. In the meantime, two more friends send me the same job description. These friends don’t know each other, all three are from different social circles. They all thought the job sounded like me.

So here I am. After one interview, I’m on the very short short list, I’ve submitted requested samples of my work, provided my references, and completed the Ministry Match Assessment to see if my gifts, personality and preferences would be a fit with their current team. The next step would be a phone call booking a second interview. More in-depth, they say.

Interesting. The first interview was one of the most in-depth I’ve ever had.

As I told some friends last night, if I am not the chosen candidate, then I have to believe it was not the perfect job for me.

Every every struggle and every success in my past has shaped me into the person I am today. I will take God's hand and step into the future without fear.

Update: I was offered the job and accepted. I start Feb. 24.

Joyce Buys a Novel

I bought a novel. "A smart, subtle, funny, painful, weirdly personal novel" (Globe and Mail). For those of you who know me, this is rather significant. I never read fiction. When I was a child, I read ravenously. It was my coping mechanism in a family with seven older brothers. Withdraw to my quiet room, alone, away from the noise, and escape into fantasy. A world other than my own.

I don't remember being unhappy. But escape I did. When I hit college, reading became 1) work 2) obligatory and 3) non-fiction, so I stopped reading fiction because there is only so much time in the day. By the time I had my bachelors degree, I was burned out on reading in any genre at all.

But someone I respect recommended this book and we're entering the dog days of summer and I'm off for an extra long weekend coming up and I happened across this book wandering around Target. After I read the first couple of pages, part of one paragraph made me want to buy it:

Upstairs Maureen shut the door of David's room quietly and stood a moment breathing him in... She kept the room clean because she was waiting for David to come back, and she never knew when that would be. A part of her was always waiting. Men had no idea what it was like to be a mother. The ache of loving a child, even when he had moved on.

So, yeah, "weirdly personal" is strangely accurate.

My son called today.

"I have put a damage deposit on an apartment. It's on the west end of Vancouver, a block from the beach and I can see the ocean from the front window. It's a year long lease, then month to month."

Sigh. I'm happy for him. Truly, I am. He's very responsible and talented and happy. But, I never know when he will come back and when he does, I know it will likely never be for long... but in the meantime, I'll wait for him.

And read my novel.

--------------------------------

Update: August 18, 2015
I picked up the novel and brought it with me to camp. I finished it. Very different. Very good in weirdly personal way. I cried a little. I laughed a little. I'm glad I read it. I would recommend it.

Waiting and Letting Go

Last week I wrote a letter to a friend lamenting. "I have been waiting... (for this, for that)" and ended it with "I'm letting go." So much disappointment can come when we try to hold too tightly to something or someone we don't want to lose. I was reminding myself that holding on can do more damage and create more hurt than that which I fear. Especially when we don't really have a choice.

So I hold memories. Sweet memories of the gift someone or something has been in my life. I go to that tender, nostalgic place to visit and I express deep gratitude for that person or experience or series of experiences. But I can't stay there. I need to let go.

Lately, though, while I knew I needed to let some things and people go, I also didn't really have a clear direction in which to move. It's like letting a balloon go, expecting it to fly away and it drops to your feet instead.

That's where it requires discipline not to pick it up again and instead, wait on the Lord for what comes next. Be still and know letting go was right, be still and know that God is God, be still and trust his plans for hope and a future. Be still and do the next thing: whatever is in front of me to do.

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
.
Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
.
Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away.
.
Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Catharine Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel, 1752; Translated by Jane Borthwick, 1855

Read the words again. Dwell on them. Did you see it?

Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
from His own fullness all He takes away.

No one else completes me. No possession comforts me. No experience sates my appetite for the one God-shaped vacuum in my being. Only Jesus, in all his fullness and love can complete me (Colossians 2:10).

On Saturday my father in law sang a song for a friend's 80th birthday. On Sunday, the pastor for whom I work quoted the same song in his message on anxiety and fear from the story when Jesus calmed the storm.

All the way my Savior leads me,
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;

All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread,
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living Bread.
Though my weary steps may falter
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see;

All the way my Savior leads me,
Oh, the fullness of His love!
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father’s house above.
When my spirit, clothed immortal,
Wings its flight to realms of day
This my song through endless ages:
Jesus led me all the way.

Frances J. Crosby 

And today, in a third reminder, a friend (who knew nothing of my feelings about "waiting" and "letting go") shared a new song with me. What are the words about? Waiting and letting go, allowing myself to surrender to the love of Jesus. I share it with you. Enjoy.