Valjean

I saw a family friend yesterday at work. When I got to work I was hit with this horrible feeling of, "I don't want to be stuck at Kroger forever." And while I tried to fight it and remind myself that it would be for a little while longer, I walked around on the brink of tears for most of the day, until they finally came when I admitted to one of my co-workers that I don't know what to do. I'm the one who messed up the game plan of my degree - I chose teaching before I even knew I hated it - and now I'm stuck with a degree that I supposedly can't use. And that scares me to death. My co-worker said that everybody feels like this at some point, and that most of the jobs he did started with friends calling him up saying, "Hey, let's go do this." He squeezed my wrist and said I would find something, and I felt a little better.

After I finished talking to him, I left the back dock and ran into our family friend. And when she asked what I was up to, I somewhat explained where I was in this post-graduation funk. She said that this is a time of rest, where I should focus on cuddling up to my God and taking advantage of this time of peace. He has a plan, and she said I should enjoy this rest, because when He shows the next step I'll be off and running to go do what He has for me. How she knows that I don't know, but the point is that I never considered this as a period of rest. I've been so focused on running around worried and angry that I haven't seen this time - where I am relatively secure and at least I have a "this step" - as a time to rebuild the strength of my faith in my God. Because, my friend said, that's what faith is: the belief that God is working, even when we don't see anything in motion. It's like the Ohio River: you go down to the Montgomery Inn and stand at the edge of the river on its calmest day, and it doesn't look like it's going anywhere. But you get in it and float on your back (which, I don't know why you would, that thing's filthy), and you'll end up somewhere else, if you only relax and let the current do its thing.

It's easy to think about being peaceful, when I"m drinking coffee in my pajamas, listening to Glen Hansard and looking out on the first snowfall of the year. The tricky part is when I go into another work shift later today and get fed up with doing the same menial task that I started yesterday and am still sore from this morning. And I get really worried that I'll get stuck in the rat race that I'm already sick of. But then I remember to feel my Father's arms around me. He has a plan. But He's whispering to me, "Not yet, My child." And I must be content to stay in His rest until it's time for me to move.