PHOTO: “HEPATICA” by MARY VAN BALEN
Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
Is 43, 18-19
I was driving home and complaining to the One who claims to love me and watch over me, like sparrows, lilies, and hairs on my head. Most of my seventy-some job applications had disappeared without a whisper into the silence of cyberspace, and the few responses that had come back said, Thanks, but no thanks. Going to graduate school was a desirable alternative to finding a fulltime job, but that, too, was unsure.
I am sick of not knowing what to expect, I blurted out.
Tears threatened to overflow as I passed shabby billboards and last years corn fields while thinking about jobs I had done in the past and how they might help me find employment now. Maybe I could go back into the classroom, I thought. I am an enthusiastic, creative teacher, but conversations with friends working in schools were often filled with complaints about constant evaluations, excessive record keeping, curriculum determined by high stakes testing.
Would it be too much to ask for SOME idea of what is ahead for me?
God wasnt talking.
I could waitress, having put myself through school working in a variety of restaurants. I smiled wryly remembering my daughters concern about that plan, thinking I am too old to keep up the hectic restaurant pace.
In upscale restaurants, you have to remember everything, Mom. You cant write it down, one said. I guess she has doubts about my memory. Fair enough. Sometimes, I do, too. What else have I done? I rummaged through my past; Ive done lots of things: taught elementary school, worked as an enrichment teacher and afterschool program director. I have been a camp counselor, a retreat center cook, and a GED teacher.
Panic squeezed my stomach and made me sick. Being jobless and going through a dissolution was wearing me down. I picked up the cell phone and called my sister.
Hi, I need you to talk to me about having faith, trusting God, and all that. God isn’t talking to me, and I’m worried that I wont be able to afford school; Ive been holding onto that as a for-sure option if no work comes through.
Dont put all your eggs in the grad school basket, she said. God may have something completely different in mind for you. You have to be willing to let that door close.
She was probably right, but I dont think she understood. I could handle letting one door close, even a favorite door, but I felt like every door was closing. I was getting claustrophobic. Something somewhere had to let light in.
Isaiah reminds me: I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
No, I don’t, not really. Holy Mystery, what keeps me from seeing what is unfolding before me? Give me patience and faith to believe that where I see nothing, you are busy bringing forth a new thing.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
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