all i want is a job. a full-time one. that matters.
i know that may seem silly–and it feels a little silly in this world full of hurt and anguish and despair, the day after tornadoes, when the skies cleared and the sun broke through, and all anyone could see was loss.
but maybe that’s why all i really want is a job. i want to be able to do something, to take those people, the ones who are suffering, and alone, and scared, whose whole world has been shattered, and they can’t seem to find equilibrium, into my arms and home and life, and to love them and to say, this is terrible. and awful. and painful. and yet to proclaim hope, even while there’s such tangible hurt.
i want to use these words and organization skills and details and knack for language and my listening ear and even the weird salesperson skills i’ve acquired at my current painful part-time job to bless other people and to make a difference in their lives. to invest. to speak truth. to bring comfort. to change the world. to point to the hope of Christ.
and sitting, aimlessly, with nothing to do, but apply for jobs and wait to never hear back from them, that can be overwhelming. and sad. and stressful. all at once. and coming home to a house with people who really love their jobs–even when they’re hard–can be difficult too. and trying to figure out how i’m going to pay for my student loans, or my grocery bill, or even the clothes to wear to a new job interview, that i’ll probably never get…those are hard things too.
i thought i had my life figured out. and while i knew that i had gotten some parts wrong, and that some things are better off not happening, holding out hope that things can change…that something can work out…that eventually i will get a job somewhere, doing something i love…that maybe there will be another boy one day…that this is not the end of the story…that’s hard, after a while. after you’ve held out hope so many times to have them dashed away on the rocks with another rejection letter, and another ending, and another morning of sitting and wondering what to do next with your life.
some days, i need you to hope with me. and some days, i need you to hope for me. help point me to the truth of the gospel, the beauty of what is ahead, and the goodness of my savior, because some days i can exegete those things, but i have a hard time seeing them through the foggy lenses of my doubt. help remind me that i’m not in control, and someone much better is. help remind me that this world isn’t my home.
help me to hope. and maybe hope for me, too.