waiting...

The interviews are done. The application, submitted.
The sketch of my professional life, aka, "resume" is being reviewed by HR.
The recommendations of my colleagues are there, too.
I've done all I can do.

Now comes the hardest part: waiting for the answer. Will it be a thumbs up? a slam dunk?
are congratulations going to be in order?

I've envisioned it all! Salary, benefits, working again (I am so ready for this forced employment exile to be OVER!!!) The reduction of stress! The gratefulness filling my heart and spilling
over into all that I say and do. Yes! Yes!!

I have thought of my options if this position does not come through as well. Is it the end of the world? Nah! Will I be disappointed? Yes, but I will get over it. Will I continue the search--with enthusiasm? Yeah, I will. You can't fake enthusiasm for very long. Joblessness isn't fatal. It's financial and it's hellish inconvenient. And a job doesn't define who I am.
In reality, it only emphasizes the skills acquired to perform required tasks--for that job!

There's loads more I can say and do, have said and done, that never appear on a resume...

So I wait. Waiting's not an inactive verb, however.....there's a lot to say for waiting. It gives birth to offspring like humility and patience, forbearance and faithfulness.
Waiting's husband is Hope.

They are inexorably linked. You rarely see one without the other....

And somewhere in between waiting for the outcome and hoping for the future
is God's sovereign plan unfolding to reveal my next step.

age matters...

When I was in grade school, I remember thinking that kids who were in high school were so much older than me! As I grew up, it seemed that the "age barriers" that were so apparent then were no longer obstacles at all. Age didn't really matter.

Now as I am watching over my parents, who are 85 this year, it seems that age is once again becoming an issue. Not a big one, mind you, but it's there. They are apt to refer to a 70-year old as "still young." And I'm more apt to view a 70-year old as not so old. As I slow down my pace--slow it way down--in order to be walking with them, not ahead of them, my heart is a little bit bruised, for I realize that these footprints we are leaving are a collection of their last steps.

Make no mistake: I am honored to be walking with them. So what if it takes a little longer to get moving and to reach a destination? If I hurry, I'll miss them. If I slow enough to accompany them, what a delight! They appreciate the smallest gestures, it seems.

And I? I am accumulating a montage of memories; of slow walks and slow talks as they delight in reliving with me the memories of youth now spent. Age does matter...

How sweet that they take me into their confidence and include me in their circle of friends.

speechless

I am stunned. I received a call from a friend who is back in town. We worked together about 5 years ago. He has taken a position with a firm in the Blue Ash area and is assembling his team. He called to find out if there was any possibility I might like to come and work for him again. He didn't know I lost my job 4 months ago and was available. But God did. I am amazed. Humbled. Relieved. Encouraged.

Stay tuned!

spring notions...

Yesterday I saw the first rose of spring had bloomed. The starts I cut off my mother's peonies and transplanted last fall are thriving. I closed my eyes and listened. I heard birds chirping and tractor engines in the distance. I remember thinking,"it smells like spring." I looked to my left and saw the horses who live near me--some nuzzling hay, others laying about resting in the glory of the morning sun. How thankful I am for the beauty of the earth and the freedom to enjoy its bounty. God bless our country!