Humblin' Miracles

            I've learned something about myself over the past year and a half. I am an extremely happy, cheerful, content individual--IF I'm working on something, be it project, job, or self. Otherwise, I feel like I'm just taking up space, and I get extremely depressed. I had no idea how much being "useful" meant to me until after we got married, and for the first time in my adult life, I struggled to find a job. Before we had gotten married, I had never had a job interview that didn't immediately result in my employment.  But afterwards (I believe it was because my of my 'job history,' because I had only worked in the job I had before we got married for a few months before we moved out to Orem together and I had to quit. But that's just my summation.), interview after interview would go by, and then the potential employer would forget about me. I've been so blessed and so fortunate in my life, and I didn't know what it was like to ever be forgotten or unwanted, by anyone.  It stinks. I've felt miserable about myself during each phase of the job-hunt as we've bounced around across the Utah Valley for various reasons, but I'm finally starting to see the pattern that I believe my Heavenly Father wanted me to see. Main point: I've got a LOT of learning to do.

            The first thing I needed to learn in Orem, was that I can't always have exactly what I want--at least not exactly when I want it. I learned a little bit about that while I was hunting down Tyrel trying to get him to marry me, but I s'pose it hadn't quite hit me yet the way it was supposed to. Coming in to Orem, I had a list of nearby Assisted Living and Rehabilitation facilities, that I guess I had the assumption that I could have my pick out of. I became a CNA when I was 17, and I must admit, I'm quite dandy at it. I assumed that any one of these facilities would take me in a minute. My husband had a genuine job lined up in Orem weeks before we ever moved, and in my mind, I was just as securely set up as he was, without even talking to these facilities yet. We knew that with the cost of rent and tuition that semester we would both need to be working, and were planning for that--neither of us worried that this would be any sort of problem. But then we moved...and no one wanted me. Two weeks went by, and I had gone through my entire list of potential employers, and had tried my absolute hardest to win their attention. I had dressed up in my "power suit," edited my resume and cover letter each time to fit the facility I was applying at, gave firm handshakes, made a point of talking directly to the manager or owner or head nurse, repeated my name several names during each conversation, and nothing resulted from any of it. One facility finally did want me, but they only needed me for Sundays, and my religion discourages working on the Sabbath. Tearfully, I had to turn them down. But they were the only interested parties out of all of these people who were "supposed" to want me. Two more weeks went by, and still, nothing. I cried almost every night those last few weeks of that month, nearly all of my self-esteem broken, asking my husband over and over why he'd ever even wanted to marry me. I felt worthless.

Then, miracles happened! I finally had given up on being able to work as a CNA, and we had to adjust our living expectations accordingly, as now, IF I was going to be able to find a job, it would most likely be several dollars less an hour than we had been planning for. I was walking down State Street (our only car was a stick-shift, and I could not drive it yet. I had walked four miles down main street in mid-August for one of the interviews earlier.) near our apartment, holding several copies of my resume and a few different versions of a cover letter, when I had a tangible impression to look to my left. I saw a Subway Sandwich joint. Nothing there of importance. So I kept walking. Another impression. Go back. I went back. What exactly am I supposed to be seeing here? Then, in my thick, thick skull, it clicked. Oh. Still suffering from quite a bit of pride, I slowly walked into the Subway shop. The shop was empty except for one man, who was busy hanging an advertisement on one of the windows. I walked up to him, asking if the manager was in today. He informed me that he was the manager. I took a deep breath, and told him that I would like to be hired, if there was a position available. He told me that a position had just opened up yesterday. He asked me when I would be available for an interview. I began to feel peace spreading through my body, slowly replacing the ridiculous arrogance that had been sitting there for so long, without my knowledge. We set up a time to meet, and when I tried to hand the man my resume, he told me to keep it, and just bring it to the interview.  I walked out of that Subway knowing that, for some reason, I was supposed to be there. It would be a huge cut in pay from what I was "used to," but for some reason, it was right. The interview took place the following morning, and I was hired on the spot. After a month of being humbled to heck, I finally felt that I had a purpose again. A sweet, $7.25 an hour, always-smelling-like-a-sandwich purpose. And I love it. I loved my co-workers, and I loved the fact that I was once again contributing to our little family.

            After three or four months of working at Subway, I got a call from one of the Rehabilitation facilities from whom I had worked so hard to earn attention. They had a position available now, and they wanted me. I spoke with my sweet manager at Subway, and he told me to go. He knew that as a newly-wed, money was sparse, and this was an opportunity that I needed to take. This was the week before Christmas, and I made sure to make or buy little stockings for all of my co-workers at Subway to say thank you. I will never forget their kindness. My Christmas present from God that year was a job that before I had always taken for granted and expected. It was like God was telling me, "Alright, now that you've learned your lesson, now you can have the job you wanted." Now, it really did feel like Christmas to me. And I finally, finally learned that I am not 'too good' for anything. Well played, God...well played.

            I loved working for that Rehab facility, more than I've ever enjoyed working for any medical facility, ever. They were absolutely incredible, and I learned so much. I had only worked there for six months before a heartbreak occurred in our family, and Tyrel's brother, after being diagnosed a second time with Leukemia, was given only a short time to live--unless they could somehow convince their insurance to help cover an experimental treatment that could only take place in Huston, Texas. Tyrel's brother has a beautiful wife, and a handsome little two-year-old boy, who they were unsure if they would be able to take with them, should they be able to go. Tyrel and I moved into their basement in Woods Cross soon after hearing the bad news, in order to be able to take care of their house and possibly their baby in the event of their leaving. Through divine intervention, and with the help of my cute mother-in-law who works in insurance, they were able to leave for Texas and get the treatment. And they were even able to take their baby with them for the second half of their stay! I had learned my lesson last time about having a job lined up before the move, and my brother-in-law happened to have an acquaintance with connections to a home-health agency, so this time, I was prepared. I got the job at home health...and I hated it. I loved my patients as always, of course, and I loved my new employer, but because I was only one CNA among many, I was very rarely listened to, and was often sent to places that were either uncomfortable, dangerous, or both, despite my requests for otherwise. For example, right during the interview, I informed my then-potential employers that I was extremely allergic to cats. I was immediately afterword assigned full-time hours to a woman who owned seemingly millions of cats (I never got the exact number...there were always less than I thought when I vacuumed, and more than I thought when I brought out the cat treats.), and needed to take antihistamine tablets every few hours in order to even be able to see straight. When this dear, sweet woman passed away, it broke my heart, and I asked not to have full-time hours assigned to any one patient again. In replace of my cute little cat lady, I instead got assigned with...(cue music)... Five chronic diarrhea/vomit patients, four groping creepers, three contagious MRSA patients, two sexist women-haters, and a con-VIC-ted raa-aa-apist!! ...in addition to many other li'l joys. I think in a future blog I'll write out just a few of my wild CNA stories, names and places of course withheld... Prepare yourself, dear reader. >:) Many are not for the faint of heart...

            I had worked for that home health agency for only four months before Tyrel and I moved again, and I couldn't stay. My brother-in-law, via dozens of miracles, was doing well, and we were no longer needed in Woods Cross. We moved earlier than we had planned, and I didn't have a job lined up this time. We went from a basement in Woods Cross to a basement in West Valley, this time belonging to Tyrel's sweet parents. It was during this time that my biggest humbling-session took place.

            At first, I went through the usual "apply for where I wanted to work," again with the power suit, personalized resumes, and firm handshakes. And again, no one wanted me. A month went by. We moved the week after our first anniversary, so in mid-August, and it was now almost October. I felt trapped emotionally, unable to help my husband with the bills, and trapped physically, hating the fact that I no longer had anything that was "mine" now that we lived in someone else's basement again, while at the same time struggling with forceful feelings telling me that because I was not contributing, I did not deserve to be happy anyway, and must therefore "suck it up," so to speak. I hated my life, and I hated myself. The only thing that could make me happy was knowing that I had Tyrel, and that he loved me--even though over and over during this time of self-loathing, I couldn't imagine why.

              Another month of this, and I was now applying for jobs that I didn't want, jobs that I even hated. After a lifetime of hating receiving calls from various sale people or credit "specialists" who wanted my card number, I was now doing everything I possibly could in order to be one of the people making these calls. And they didn't want me. Tyrel and I had decided that I would not be a CNA again if at all possible, due to some early signs of back problems and carpal tunnel that had begun to take place as a direct result of the physical stains of being a Nursing Aide. But, times were tough, and I thought for sure that I had one safety line--a Rehabilitation facility that I had worked at before Tyrel and I met, that would surely take me back. I had hoped never to come back to that particular facility, and had a dislike for the "don't care" attitude of the aides and the grouchy head nurse, and forced myself to swallow my pride down even further and re-apply. But I had left that job on poor terms with the head nurse, who had chastised me for an incident that I had had no part in, who remembered me, and made sure that my application was not processed. I felt like I could sink no lower than I was at that moment. But I kept being proved wrong, as over and over my interviews ended in the employer forgetting about me.

            It embarrasses me to say that it wasn't until this point, or near to it, that I finally hit my knees alone in prayer, and begged for a job from the one Person who hopefully still thought I may be worth something. The very next day, I received a call from a man in my ward, who told me that he had connections through two different companies who needed a receptionist. Rather than asking me to apply, and telling me that he "hoped I'd get the job," he described the two positions to me over the phone, and then asked me which one I wanted. Tearfully, and grinning like a fool, I chose the position at a local Photography Studio. He gave me the owner's phone number, and told me to call the man sometime the next day. But before I had a chance to do so, the owner of the photography studio called me, asking if I was the "fabulous, amazing" person who had been described to him by the man in my ward. I'm sure I babbled like an idiot in response, but was asked to come and interview the next day anyway. I was hired immediately, and began work the next day. I love my job. It's perfect, and it's an absolute miracle that I got this wonderful opportunity to be there. The man in my ward was and is an answer to prayer, and I made sure to bring him over some home-made caramel apples and a note telling him only partially of the dark emotional hole he had pulled me out of. I am so grateful!!!!! I wish I could describe exactly how appreciative and thankful and indebted I feel towards my Heavenly Father, who needed to teach me a lesson about patience and humility, but did so in such a kind way as to have me end up with the wonderful people that I get to work (I get to work!!!) with.

Bah--huzzah for miracles!!!!