hey, jude....thanks

When you have a new job, there is so much to learn. Not only the elements of the job itself, but also the culture of the organization, the operations and moods of the work environment....all the things I learned about in my classes, not so long ago. I expected that. I expected the overload of information about what it is I need to do; the excitement of using skills I already have, as well as picking up new ones--playing up my strengths and stretching my "mental muscles." I was prepared for good days and bad days. Days when I remember something I've been trained to do, and days when I just don't.

What I was not prepared for was learning so much about myself. Rather, I should say, remembering so much about myself; not all of which has anything at all to do with my work. I guess I shouldn't be surprised at remembering what I did and how I felt a lifetime ago....that's how long it's been since I had a full-time job, and some of the memories are related to putting in hours. They come in flashes, and most of them as remembered feelings, not as the third-person 'movie memories' I often have when remembering events.

Tonight, for instance, I went to Mass with Mom and Joseph. A memory hit me, but not of a time or event, but a remembered feeling (not emotion, this time). Not long after we were married, I was working only part-time. I don't remember why, but I was looking and looking for a full-time job, but nothing was panning out. It was nearing springtime, and Fr. Lynch suggested to everyone one Sunday that daily Mass might be a good and useful Lenten sacrifice. What the heck, I thought, it'll get me out of the apartment at the very least. I started going just to go. Then I started to go a few minutes early so as not to interrupt the Rosary. Then I started taking my Rosary with me. Before long, I was staying after for coffee in the rectory with Fr. Lynch and some of the other 'regulars.' When I got a full time job, I was sad about losing my new routine, despite needing the job, and enjoying it. And I thanked God every day for both the opportunity to have experienced Lent on another level, and for the job, too.

The feelings all came back tonight as I shook hands with those around me: faces, smiles and handshakes I have come to know, even if I don't know or remember all the names. The warmth that comes with recognition. But what came back most intensely was the feeling of gratefulness for the gifts that got me this job. Strength to be myself. Courage to try something new. Humility to ask for help when I am confused or feel lost. Thankfulness that I am able to work, that the work is meaningful, and that those I work with are good people. I occasionally find myself overwhelmed with joy at where my life is right now, and I celebrate even the temporary nature of 'right now.'

Over the summer, I read an autobiography by Jamie Farr (Just Farr Fun) wherein he points again and again to St. Jude as the key to his success. He prayed to St. Jude every day, and when his career took off with M*A*S*H, he promised to pass on the prayer as one way to thank St. Jude. Jamie was very convincing. St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes. What the heck, I again thought, my life feels like a lost cause. I started to say the prayer each day, reading it from the back of Jamie Farr's book.

I've been thanking St. Jude for a few months now, along with thanking God for being beside me. That's the feeling that was so similar tonight: the feeling that God is near me, beside me, in those around me. I know that what God does will not necessarily make sense to me. I also know that I can ask questions. I can argue my case. I can even get mad at God or ignore him.

He will still be there.

I needed Him, and he was there, even though it had, for all intents and purposes, been a really long time since I'd been there. I still have questions. Tons and tons of questions, and contradictions, and arguments.....but I believe that it's okay. Why? Because my mind is open to the answers, and I'm designed to seek, to learn, to inquire. I've asked for the strength to be myself, and with it, I've become me.