Quite frankly, you
will never catch me praying for “patience.”
Here’s why: When you ask God to
make you patient, there is only one way to find out if that prayer got
answered: He surrounds you with people and situations that would make Mother Teresa of Calcutta use the F-word. He puts you in situations where St. Francis
of Assisi would begin kicking the wolf and throwing rocks at pigeons. The most frustrating of circumstances become
the very bones of your every day life and you, the perfectly patient person,
smile serenely and say, “Praise the Lord, bring it on.” And because I do not ever think it would be
possible for me to endure that kind of moral fire and come out with my usual
cherub-like demeanor, I do NOT pray for patience. You will just have to take me as is, or not
at all. And I’m cool with that.
So, I am going through a Season in life right now that is
very difficult. I left a job of 23 years
because I could not see my way clear to take one more shot of mystery serum
into my arm. Lucky that I do not play
soccer or football – I personally would prefer to not prove to the world that the
stuff causes cardiac problems… among other things, because it was NOT, IMHO,
(in my humble opinion) tested sufficiently before the medical community began
jabbing it into everyone’s arms. I have
friends all over the spectrum on this topic and I do respect your right to
disagree. Just let me know if you prefer
organ music or guitar for your Memorial Mass.
When I left that job I found out something that has made
life quite difficult. Because I left a
State job via early retirement and need to find a new job to, oh, feed the dogs
at my house and pay the mortgage, I was jettisoned into online job hunting
quite rapidly. And there is some sort of
a Rule that if you are a State retiree, you cannot work again for the State
and make in excess of $35,000 a year. (I
know, punish me for wanting to make a living wage.) So, the only options on the table, it seems,
are as follows: a) to take a job in the
private sector (which I am fine with); b) to take a job in ministry (and starve
and lose the house I worked so hard to get); c) to leave New York entirely (a
process that will throw my whole life into further chaos, should I have to
pursue it). Yeah, if anyone else out
there thinks I am missing an option, just let me know. I am scratching a lottery ticket a week and
would also entertain the idea again, albeit briefly, of marrying into
money.
So, I got hired in Job #2 which lasted six months… which I
actually really enjoyed. (Names omitted
for the sake of decency.) Primarily it
lasted six months because a crooked person was ruining the boss’ business and I
tried to encourage him to be more professional and honest in his daily
business. Yeah, that didn’t make me the
Office Sweetheart. I should have just
bought a tee shirt with a target on my back.
I would venture to say that if a business loses six employees in six
months, that is only doing a little better than … the very NEXT place I worked (for
7 weeks) which lost 12 people in 12 months.
While the math comes out even on that, the principle should have been
that at month 7 they got BETTER not worse.
And, my friends are all praying for me. My prayer is limited to an old Polish prayer
that is brief and to the point: “Jezu
Ufam Tobie.” It means, “Jesus, I trust
in You.” Not, “Here’s what You need to
do for me.” The reason I am not telling
the Lord what to do is because that would seem to suggest that I know better
than He does, and I can assure you that I do not. My job, currently, is this simple: 1) put out as many relevant resumes and cover
letters as possible; 2) be open-minded to new ventures; 3) keep the wolves away
from the doorstep. His Job: Everything Else. And since I am not God, I do not know what “Everything
Else” is, and therefore by default cannot manage that.
Another friend is praying to St. Anthony to “find” me a job,
since I have lost three since March of
2022. He is patron saint of finding lost
things. I myself am asking my new friend
St. Dymphna to pray for me. She is
patroness of people with Alzheimer’s, mental illness, and depression, all of
which seem to be stalking me at this point in the game.
And to the kind-hearted believers who feel that God must be
Teaching me Something right now, what may that be? I will tell you what it is: Survival.
“Jezu, Ufam Tobie.” Primarily it
is the lesson grounded in a concept that most people only learn right before they
die. And that is this: we, in the long run, are not really in
control of much.
Why is it that when people are hailed as saints or those of
great virtue who stand for a cause, no one tells The Rest of the Story …
namely, that after you make your philosophical or moral stand (for which I am
not sorry for doing in any case), you are now going to spend a lot of time
trying to re-stabilize your life and make a “new normal.” You may not have the doors of opportunity
flung wide to you. And, when it seems
like a new door opens by someone who is really talking-it-up on how they are going
to help you get where you need to go, get paid what you are “worth,”
etc., that person may in the end only be looking to place you into a job that
no one else wanted to stay in for some mysterious reason… a reason which takes
you only 7 weeks to figure out.
This is starting to look a lot like my life when I was doing
Online Dating. I put myself out there
with a lot of zeal and hope. I have good
faith in the other people that they are participating with the same
intentions. I sign on for some really
good-looking possibilities …. That disintegrate into toxic disasters… I leave
and say, “I am wiser now but heck that was rough.” Oh, and then the period of self-doubt… Maybe
I should have given it another chance?
Maybe I cut-bait too soon? Maybe the
problem is me? Maybe … SIGH … maybe I’m
ugly and my mother dresses me funny….
I recently had a very promising job interview, but the
longer it goes before I hear from them whether they “want me” or not, the more
the self-doubt begins to brew. Maybe I
was too folksy in my demeanor. Maybe I
shouldn’t have told them the story about the turtle and the goslings in their
pond at the business park … about how 25 years ago when I had a part time job
at the daycare there, the turtle was submarining and yanking the goslings down
under. The children in the 4-seated,
giant red plastic stroller pushed by another worker were traumatized. So, a turtle poacher had to be called-in to
do what turtle poachers do…. I thought that was an important piece of business park
history. Judging from the looks of shock
on their faces, maybe not. Yeah, I can
type 70+wpm but BOY can I tell a STORY … and all my stories are true!
On the way out of the office from the job interview I almost slipped on the sidewalk. Some sort of January central New York precipitation began falling. It was not quite snow, but not quite freezing rain either… until it was. Less than five miles from my house I hit a patch of ice. (Yes, Dad, I really WAS going the safe speed for the conditions.) My whole vehicle began moving towards the right ditch. I yelled out, “Jesus! Help me!” And the vehicle grabbed a bit of traction and moved toward – and then right past – the center lane and began to head toward the left ditch. If there had been an oncoming car, the problem of being jobless would have been completely off the grid. (Dead people tend to not need jobs.) The vehicle then stabilized and oncoming cars saw me using my flashers to them and making the flat hand down motion which means: SLOW DOWN!!! I drove into the Town office and asked the clerk to call the DOT guys and have them sand that road due to my unnerving experience. I drove the rest of the one mile home and felt like my nervous system had been dealt the final blow.
What did that teach me?
Again, a reiteration of the lesson:
We are in control of a lot less than we think we are. I have felt drained for days. This was adding insult to injury. But now a couple of days later it has me
thinking about Other Things of which I have no control. They are ordinary things, but they yank my
chain. They drain me. And I need to readjust my brain so that they
do not do any more damage to me.
For instance, this morning I went to a church where the
homilist based the last 25% of his homily on his interpretation of a
sociological situation that was, in my lived experience, Incorrect. I got more stressed-out the more he
talked. I just wanted him to STOP. I was trying to distract myself, in church,
for ONCE when it is usually the Other way around: I am usually distracted and am trying to
corral the horses of my thoughts and be more focused. Yet here I was looking at the little kid’s
red shoes next to me. I wondered if I
had a son that wore red shoes if I would tell him he could be POPE someday,
because the Pope wears red shoes. Handily,
Fantasy Mom Me, would show my kid a picture online of the pope’s red
shoes. After all, they are practically sacramentals
aren’t they? I remembered my mother
saying to me the other day, “can’t you just accept that the homilist has a different
opinion than you?” No. I cannot.
But thanks for asking. Because if
I was giving a homily, do you think people would cut me the same sort of
courtesy? Nor should they. Either it is accurate biblically, morally,
ethically, psychologically, sociologically, etc., or don’t say it. Do your homework, buddy. I guess I expect them to spend their homilies
on something else besides how they would make the historical world a different
place. Like try talking about Jesus and
virtues. That is an idea whose time has
come. But I am not in control of his thoughts
and someone gave HIM the pulpit instead of me.
Another thing I cannot control.
I am job shopping and feeling crummier with each resume I shove out there into cyberspace. Each weekly call to “certify” for unemployment makes me wonder WHY they haven’t approved my claim yet and WHY I have to feel like hurling every time I return from the mailbox with no approval letter in it. Afterall, I have worked full time continuously for over 30 years in Central New York. Isn’t the system that is designed to be a Safety Net for emergencies supposed to work for ME TOO??!!??
Then it hit me. If I
get offered a good job and I take it, will I magically be able to start feeling
good again? What am I proving to anyone
else by feeling out of sorts and helpless?
Nothing. As one of my past bosses
said pretty regularly, “No one cares.”
And what he really meant was that HE didn’t care. The question, “Why is it necessary to feel
stressed at all?” floats through my mind.
I am trying to make a home for it.
I used to tease my friends years ago when we did a 6-week Bible study called
“Walk Out of Worry.” Some of them had to
do it two and three times and STILL were chronic worriers. I did not have an issue with worry. Until now, almost 25 years later. But worry is a waste of time. It just debilitates you from being ready for
the moment of victory when it comes. If
I accept that the Outcome is not in my control, then I should just TRUST the
One who has the whole THING in His control.
Maybe the recent Job Offer that fell apart the weekend
before I would have started work (two weeks ago) was really a blessing. Maybe the One Who Searches Hearts was saving
me from yet another office trainwreck.
Or, maybe in a few months that situation will turn around and it will be
perfect and the door will fling wide open for me.
I want to move to the Land of Rejoicing, mentally. And I want to move there sooner rather than
later. I do not mean I want to be in the
Hereafter. I mean I want my brain to see
the good things in life and be really, really glad about all of them. My loving dogs. My sweet cats. My cheerful birds. My guinea hen. The firepit.
The home I live in and love. The
friends and family who have been each supportive in their own way. My health.
My talents. The future. All of it.
This morning the psalm response in church was, “I believe that I
shall see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living.” When I was a kid, I always thought that meant
in heaven. Now as an adult I realize it
means: right here, right now. I believe. I do believe.
I have utter confidence that God has got this thing. And He cares. He cares about me. He cares about you. He cares about the whole entire thing. I shall see. I shall see it unfold before me, I shall look
in the rearview mirror in ten years and marvel at how it all fell into
place. I will marvel, also, at the woman
I have become in the process. The
good things of the Lord. It is also
written that “every good and perfect gift comes from the Father above.” I do believe that. I have seen that. He wants the best for us. In the land of the living. Not some day in a galaxy far, far away, but
here and now. This is His intention for
us. This is His will for us.
Many years ago I came upon one of my favorite Bible verses
of all time. It has been a centering
point for me throughout my life. It says
this:
“Do not conform yourselves to
this world. But be transformed by the
renewal of your mind so that you may judge what is God’s good and pleasing and
perfect will.” (Romans 12:1-2)
It is this season in life – this very difficult and
challenging season – which will bring about a renewal of mind. A new way of thinking can only come when you
realize that your olde way of thinking just aint cutting it. So as I say, “Jezu Ufam Tobie,” with all of
my Polish ancestors before me, my mind is turning more towards His way of
thinking. I am more open to receive the good
things. I can let go of any strange,
self-imposed obligation to be miserable, fearful and worried during this
time. Am I perfect at it yet? Heck, no.
But at least I see what it is. I
know why it’s better for me to change my mind to this new way … if for no other
good reason than Mylanta and Pepto taste yucky – and they are what I am left
with when I have the other way of thinking, the no-good way. It turns out, I might have some control after
all, but just over ME and how I think … and maybe that’s all that matters.
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