Fresh back from 3 weeks in Thailand, the job search doesn't worry me. A Masters in Social Work guarantees I'll find some kind of work, even if not financial gain. I cast my search far and wide, sights set on either coast.
It doesn't matter where, really. So long as it's away. I love Chicago but get me out of Illinois, get me out of these suburbs, get me out of myself.
24 years old and morally superior to my hometown. Time to spread my wings and fly to a fresh start.
A hurricane in Florida costs me a second interview and then the funding for the hospice social work position. Out of state jobs call my name and let me down not so gently. Again and again.
Medical social work jobs are highly coveted and once gained, rarely relinquished. Instead of working with hospice patients, I work at the Christian Bookstore and babysit. I brush off the difficulty at first. Then reality sets in, along with an attitude.
I question my calling and training. I question my identity. How can I call myself a social worker? I dread meeting new people and answering "what do you do?"
Because what do I do, other than send out more resumes, consider jobs in HR and admin, rail at God.
My church announces a mission trip in Ecuador. A mustard seed plants and I sign up without hesitation. Surely I'll have a job by September.
I nanny for a family while their nanny is on maternity leave. I move into an apartment with two dear friends. I'm still in the land of suburbs, but this is progress.
The nanny extends her maternity leave; bonus work for me. But still, all's quiet on the social work front. I know my time with the D____ family is ending. I don't know what to do next. I don't know whether a new employer will allow me time off for the Ecuador trip. I don't know how I'm going to pay my bills.
All the while, God chips away at me, my vision of happiness, my wants, my entitlement. Me.
One night I drive to Praise in the Park and yell, "what do I have going for me, God? Nothing!" I want to goad Him into action.
A still small voice whispers, "you have Me. Let that be enough." Chastened, I relent. I wrestle. I cry. I try to let Him be enough.
Not my timing but His.
Almost a year and a half passes. A year and a half.
The nanny job ends July 31. August yawns hot and fierce. There are no prospects. I pick up odd babysitting jobs and whatever else I can find. My savings account lends itself to bills.
One day my phone rings. The local hospital asks if I'm still interested. "Yes," I gasp, racking my brain to remember what I'd applied for. A hospice social work position has opened up, the office one town over.
I don't want to get my hopes up. But...God?
I interview. Most of the team comes in to meet me. Is this a good sign? Another girl comes in after me. I think snarky thoughts about her abilities compared to mine.
I wait. I send thank you cards to the interviewers. (Always send thank you cards.) And then one day, and not a moment sooner, HR calls and offers me the position.
Offers me the position at my desired salary. Offers me the position at my desired salary and the start date is exactly one day after I return from the mission trip.
I hang up the phone and cry, breathing thanks to my Creator. Then I call my parents. All the while, the Hallelujah chorus resounds.
***
Most of the Harvest Bible Chapel Ecuador team, September 2005
The Ecuador team gathers in the living room of the house we're staying at and the missionaries break the news: Hurricane Rita is headed toward the Gulf coast and the Houston airport has shut down. Houston, where we have a layover before returning to Chicago.
Tomorrow we fly from Loja to Quito. Now we don't know whether Sunday's flight will leave or not.
Charles, our team leader, looks into other flight options. Everything points to splitting the team up, which we don't want to do, and even then, likely not getting back home before Monday or Tuesday.
Monday. Monday I'm supposed to start my job. The job I waited for.
Panic should rise but peace passing all understanding settles on my heart and mind.
We will make it home Sunday. I don' t know how I know it but I do.
Hurricane Rita notwithstanding.
Here is my chance to show Him I've listened; I've learned. I share my confidence with my teammates and we decide to move forward with our plans.
We fly to Quito and spend the day exploring the city and posing at the equator line. We check weather reports and airline updates. Fingers crossed, Sunday morning we rise early, board the plane, and fly to Houston. Perhaps the first or second flight allowed to land.
{I don't believe God redirected the hurricane on my behalf. Rita still unleashed devastation, after all. I know only His reassurance grew my faith exponentially.}
The next day I walk into the hospital board room to start orientation. The same girl as before, yet not. Thanks be to God.
I’m sharing My Hazardous Faith Story as part of a synchroblog connected with the release of Ed Cyzewski and Derek Cooper’s new book Hazardous: Committing to the Cost of Following Jesus. Check out the synchroblog here.
