Faith and Fear: A Changed Reality (Part II)

So where did I leave off? Oh sure, it was nearly 7 pm; I had minutes to decide how faith plays into this very temporal, very earthly decision.

The idea of asking for more time to decide from Co.#1 came to mind, but then the reality struck me: I can’t imagine myself actually taking that job.

I knew I wouldn’t. I knew that I couldn’t take the obvious, sensible, practical option. I don’t have it in me.  Faith would win this battle.

I was crafting a very polite rejection email at 6:54 pm when an email from Co. #2’s recruiter hit my inbox.

She wanted to tell me that the man who interviewed me had decided to extend me and offer and would do so formally “first thing Monday morning.”

(Insert small dance party and a strong impulse to cry here.)

Well, I danced too soon. Monday came: nothing. 

Tuesday came and I learned that the hiring manager  wasn’t as sure as he thought he was and I’d hear from them later. Two weeks later, which means by the time I  know for sure one way or the other I could have had two paychecks from Co. #1.

This tight, worried knot grew in my chest and I had the profound feeling that I messed something up.  Remember the money? How much I need it?

I used to feel that everything that happened to me, every choice I made, every step I took had hints of the divine embedded in their core. I have countless examples of times where tiny moments sang of fate and destiny.

I used to be able to discern with almost clairvoyant clarity when the tiniest spiritual chord in my soul was being strum, but it’s been a long time since that feeling has had any real place in my life. 

Years.  Three to be [nearly] exact. 

I know it’s been nearly three years because I remember the last time I successfully felt it: October 12, 2012. That's the day that I decided to take every cent I'd ever saved, plus some more and go to school in Northern Ireland. 

It’s almost as if at some point I stepped off the path of my life and wandered into a giant open field of nothing much in particular.  My little kid instincts took over in my lost state and I must have sat down.

You really shouldn’t sit down in your metaphorical life.

Now, years later, nothing feels quite right. I don’t think anyone’s coming and I’m not sure there’s a path anymore.

But that’s probably right. I mean I’m not a five-year-old anymore. What the hell am I doing sitting and waiting for someone to come find me and tell me what to do? 

Maybe the path only extends so far and you (I) just have to stamp out a new path.

I teach Gospel Principles in my ward and this past Sunday’s lesson was on faith (how appropriate) and I decided to try and use this lesson to learn whether or not faith is even applicable to non-salvation/eternal (but entirely temporal) choices and situations. 

I studied, I prayed, I read books and talks. I pulled out all the spiritual stops I could think of.

If I be honest,  I hoped it would show me that my fear (all this temporal garbage is just that—garbage) isn’t valid. I was hoping that the collective power of my Sunday school class would somehow reveal that some things are meant to be. Or that anything is meant to be.

After some thinly veiled looks of pity and inspiring one-liners like, “God doesn’t care what choices we make, only why we make them,” I came to the conclusion that God is likely playing hands off on this one.

It’s all just another Sibiu for me. (Okay, that’s one for those in the know—ask if it’s killing you.)

But it begs the question: What would you do with your [temporal] life if you stripped away all the mystic strings and saw it as entirely yours to manipulate?

Care to comment? Any thoughts? (I could use all the insight you're willing to give).

As for my answer....

to be continued...

As for whether or not I get the job and avoid the dole...

to be continued...