They called me the day after I posted my last blog to offer me the job. I'm glad God reminded me to give thanks for his guidance in the past, before I got my new answer.
Sometime I hope to tell you the whole French toast and heart surgeon and mom story, but that's not what's up today. What's up today is that I'm standing on the edge of the Red Sea, and the Egyptian army is chasing me. I have three more nights left of my old job, and despite the excitement of the journey...despite that I know it's right and that it's a dream job come true and that I love to learn... I keep hearing the chariot wheels of fear.
I used to think I was brave. I took the train alone from Brooklyn to Manhattan without a fear. I planned our trip to England. I interviewed random people in tornado-ridden towns I had never visited before. But I've come to realize that fears of other kinds have been my taskmaster for many years.
I fear conflict. I'd rather smooth everything over.
I fear noise and chaos. I'd rather be reading a book wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Drinking tea.
I fear the unknown. I'd rather stick with the old familiar paths.
I fear disappointing people. I'd rather not attempt than fail.
I fear conversations. I'd rather be blogging, where there's plenty of time to think things over.
I fear switching from night shift to day shift, because I always get feel sub-par for a week or two.
I fear day shift. I like the calm and peace of the night.
I fear introductions. I have a dreadful time remembering people's names.
My new job involves everyone of those things.
I wonder how Moses kept from panicking when he heard the wheels.
Moses said to the people:
"The Egyptians [those fears!] whom you see today,
you shall never see again.
The Lord will fight for you,
and you have only to be silent."
How did Moses know?
A few days ago, I asked Christine, one of the people I will be working with: "Can you give me some calming words [about starting the new job]?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment.
"No," she said. "You just have to start."
Exodus 14, God told Moses the same thing. "Why do you cry to me? Tell the people to go forward."
God had a great point. The people had just seen all the wonderful miracles, and they were scared again. I would never be like that. Haha.
Oh, God, help me to just keep walking down the seashore. I will think of the French toast. I will give thanks for the other miracles that brought me to this moment. I will remember the other times I faced conflict, and noise, and chaos (co-worker screaming in linen closet? co-worker crying about other co-worker? mentally ill patients?) and by the power you gave me, I faced those fears. I will praise you out loud if need be to block out the sound of the wheels. God, I suspect you want to forever free me from those old fears that enslaved me and kept me from complete efficiency.
Perhaps this is the last time I will hear those wheels.
Katrina, how about a little reminder (God asked me) since you have such a hard time remembering to give thanks, even after I blanketed your life with blessings? Why don't we make your last night of work be Thanksgiving night?
I love God. He's awesome. He always thinks of the most ironic and interesting things. (Who but God would think of throwing French toast into a career decision?) So I'll be giving thanks this week, all the way up to Thanksgiving night, when I walk off of the shore, and step into the Red Sea.