healing in His wings

These days, I work at a job that seems unreasonably insignificant. I make zero dollars, I do all the work that no one else wants to do, and I sit in a cubicle that is unseen to, really, anyone else. And I can successfully grade 100 essays, scan 1,000 documents, and read 40 emails without anyone remembering that I came into work today.

And, you know me, I'm used to jobs that basically boost my self-esteem, self-worth, and value. I'm used to a job that matters to lots of people. It's more of a fault than a feat.

I left the last job like that because I felt unappreciated, degraded, and disrespected. I left the one before that because, well, mainly the same reasons. Truthfully, the reasons were deeper and bigger than that, and I prayed about those exits long before they took place. But now, here I am, pretty insignificant and pretty broke, (Good thing for sugar-daddies, eh?) questioning making a move like that in the first place.

But here I sit, grading a few more essays about people who are trying to be accepted into a program. Most of them spill their guts, hoping that's what it takes to be "accepted", while others poof their feathers, cluck loudly, and still, don't impresss.

Then, there's one about a three-time cancer survivor. There's another about a young woman who found her calling in a third-world country, where a bus had just crashed into a jeep and she used her bare hands to hold a man's skull together. There's one about a recovering alcoholic, one that came from an abusive mother and neglectful father, and there's a few about those that were lost, and now have been found.

And it's wildly humbling.

Here I am, all selfished-up and worried about my job prospects and financial concerns, (Which, by the way, seem to be woven into my genetics. The biggest damn tweezers can't seem to remove these worries.) while there are dozens of life stories in my lap, far worse than mine could ever be. These candidates have suffered and walked a long, long way to get here while I sit cozily in my seat, with a homemade latte, hole-free clothing, and a smart phone at my side. These people have looked evil in the eye and overcome it. These people have been near to death, multiple times, while I'm only missing a gall bladder.

This happens every year, you know. I'm putting up a tree, toting goodies to potlucks, and listening to Christmas music like it may not come back at Halloween-time next year. Then, out of nowhere, the actual meaning of Christmas lands in my lap.

So I've had writer's block for three months, so I quit a good-paying, respectful and noteable job, and so I dropped the ball on my 365 days of photos already—it just kind of opened me up for a totally humbling, totally heart-breaking day like today. And, as a co-worker mentioned in the break room, through a phone conversation I shouldn't have been listening to: "It's a nudge from God, so it's Good. It's His hand, His working--it's Good."


To the alcoholic, the life-saver, the abused, and the worried...

Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled"

Hail the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings.