Murmurings along the trail

I just haven't felt much like writing lately. I've been sick for a couple weeks with a horrible chest cold, coughing at night and croaking by day. But if that were all of my excuses, I would be so lucky. I've been sullen, too. I've been applying for government assistance, and I've seen the face of the poor. ("How much longer until I'm one of them?") And the side of my new car got backed into in the parking lot at the Department of Economic Security. (Unbelievably, the woman with all the tattoos and piercings actually had insurance... shouldn't that be a sign someone is looking out for me?)

I should be using my blog as a way to vent my anxieties, and yet I've been holding it in and seeking other diversions. The job trail has been winding up and down, mostly down, and I'm tired of it. My knees hurt, and not from kneeling too much in prayer, but in stumbling down the path. I want to whine, "Are we there yet?" to my Heavenly Father. It's been over a month of unemployment, lots of phone interviews and still I have yet to get a face to face. I knew I was a prime candidate for a couple positions with major companies, and yet they both fizzled without so much as an invitation to get on a plane. One company restructured their department, eliminating the open hire position; the other company enacted a hiring freeze until next year.

"But wait, don't you see how valuable I could be? Come on, guys."

I wanted options to choose from. I wanted them to compete for me with ever increasing offers. I wanted a little respect for my long distinguished career. I wanted them to want me, badly. I wanted my dreams to come true about promptings I felt came from the Lord. Surely, 'This is the Place,' wasn't it? Aren't we there, yet?

"O Pride, O Vanity, canst thou not mask thy leering face?"

Yesterday (Sunday) I started the day on spiritual 'EMPTY.' I should have had at least a quarter of a tank; after all, I've not really gone that far from my front door for several weeks. I guess I've used up a lot of spirituality on 'IDLE.' So anyway, yesterday was our ward's Primary Program, "I'll Follow Him in Faith." I was asked to help out with a couple of the musical numbers that needed a second conductor for the kids to follow. So we got through about forty minutes of the usual darling one-liners, earnest effort, songs of faith, and then it was my turn to join them in 'Love Is Spoken Here.'

Mine is a home where every hour
Is blessed by the strength of priesthood power.
With father and mother leading the way,
Teaching me how to TRUST and OBEY,
And the things they teach are crystal clear,
For LOVE is spoken here.

And there it was, my answer. I knew it all along. My own voice was simple and clear, floating above the young crowd of sweet boy voices so full of faith and believing. Trust in the Conductor, He's telling you the truth. You know it. His voice is rich, confident and inspired. Several people came to me after the program to compliment how lovely the song was ("I just love to hear you sing!") and I wanted to tell them I have a cold, it wasn't really my voice, but I just meekly said, "Thank you. The children were lovely, weren't they?"

And if that wasn't enough, then the second number a little later, a round, 'Listen, Listen.'

Listen to the still small voice!
Listen, Listen.
When you have to make a choice,
He will guide you,
ALWAYS.

The cacophony of children's voices singing at odds with one another in a controlled chorus of echos, eventually resolved and caught up with "ALWAYS." Another answer.

Doing yard work on Saturday I flushed a gecko out of hiding and picked him up as he was scurrying up the wall to find new cover. They're only about 2 - 3 inches long, fully mature. They are soft and tender and gentle; they don't bite. They like the humus of the earth and crevices to hide in. They sport mottled colors that blend in, and you only see them when they move. The gecko did not like being held. He looked furtively around for escape, licked his lips with a tiny tongue and in an instant flung himself out my hands back into the rubble of twigs and leaves I was raking up. I let him be.

"Just have faith, little Gecko. You are in my hands. Don't jump away so fast. "

So this is the week for hope. Doors have closed, but others have opened. There is a food company in Phoenix, and their R&D Manager just moved away with a spousal relocation. The phone interview went well last week, and I'm supposed to interview face to face this week. I'm hopeful that I won't have to move and leave my children and grandson. I hope this is the job for me. The Lord will guide me, always, if I can but stay in his hand.