Vacuum

You've probably heard it said that when God closes a door, He opens a window.  But what about when God opens the door and shuts all the windows?

It's happening to me.  Right now.

I kind of mentioned this opportunity a couple of weeks ago in my post on ministry - it is the opportunity, finally, to enter a chaplain education program and start working my way toward the call on my heart.  Well, here's the thing: it's no longer just an opportunity; it's an open door.

I'm the kind of person who's been hanging out in the hallway, still asking some questions.  About myself, about my God, about my circumstances, about my life, about my fear, about my faith, about my everything.  Over the past many years, there have been a few doors cracked open, a few windows to peer through.  And every now and then, I've played with one or two of them only to be too hesitant, or too dissatisfied, to make any bold moves.  I've always had a reason why I couldn't or why I shouldn't.  I've often been waiting on the next door to open, that other enticing thing down the hall.  I've often been holding back, never sure whether this is the right or the wrong move to make.

This time, it's not really up to me.  (Of course, it is.  I could stand here for the next 20 years if I wanted to...in theory.)

The door for this opportunity has flung wide open.  Less than a week after I sent in my application materials, I was contacted for an interview.  The next day, I was interviewing.  The same day, they were talking to my references.  *pause* A couple of my references were out of town and there was a slight typo in an email address.  Still, a week later, my references were in.  This past Saturday, three or so weeks after my application, three weeks and two days after I even found the opportunity, a large brown envelope of acceptance materials graced my mailbox.

I should have known.  For five years, I have searched through more than 10,000 jobs per day, six days per week (I do not use my computer on Sundays because every good girl needs a Sabbath).  I have my resume splattered everywhere.  In the past two weeks?  Not one hit.  No one has looked at my resume.

I have an ePortfolio of some of my writing and design work.  In the past two weeks?  Not one hit.  My total hits number has not changed.  No one's looking at my communications/creative side.

I have a number of applications floating around, a few I have even interviewed with recently in various stages of their process.  In the past two weeks?  Rejections.  En masse. 

As you may or may not know, I despise money more than anything in the world and this chaplain program costs money.  Not a lot, but more than I have right now.  (Who knew I was going to need so much money so quickly?  I would have started saving long ago.)  But I need the money soon, and some of it...now.  On Saturday, just after reading through my acceptance packet, I sent an email to my church requesting private financial help from my brothers and sisters, knowing there were some who would step up.  Less than twenty-four hours later, as I walked out of Sunday service, I was already halfway to tuition with a few other individuals mentioning their pledge, although without specific dollar amounts.  Now, I am the kind of person who doesn't do things unless I can pay for them.  It's why I don't have a Masters.  It's why I drive a 12-year-old car that I just fixed with a junk part.  It's why three weeks ago when I ran a drill bit through my finger, I makeshifted my own skin graft and took care of it myself; emergency medical care was not in the budget.  Knowing all this about me, my God has clearly said - you don't have the money.  But I do.  It's going to be taken care of.  And though I'm not quite to fully-funded for tuition and gas money (and am still taking odd jobs, carving things, and selling junk to try to make it), I trust the money is going to be there.

I'm not normally a person to trust such things.

Two days from now, I am going to the hospital's department of associate health to verify my health clearance to begin working around patients.  After more than 5 years of being seriously ill, I'm flabbergasted that I am in a place where I could actually get a health clearance!

What I'm saying is this: Sometimes, when God closes a door, He opens a window.  And sometimes, when God opens a door, He shuts all the windows and you get sucked up in this vacuum of holy breath that just carries you into the next thing.  It's a holy thing.  And it's a good thing.  And it can even kind of feel like a perfect thing.

I know you're saying - be careful about those perfect things.  There's a trap in there somewhere.  A circumstance you don't foresee.  Something coming to trip you up.  Maybe.  But I'm going to tell you tomorrow what I think about good and perfect things and why I'm not so worried about this one.  In the meantime, I am mostly excited.  98% stoked and excited and ready to go.  2% nervous, but such is to be expected.  And 100% humbled to the point of tears, blessed beyond measure, and speechless at the way things go.

And trying to figure out what to do with my hair.  Because this holy wind that's blowing has it lookin' a little messy...