Listening

As I said in my previous post, I was totally buoyed and saturated. The theme for the conference was “Contagious Joy.” I caught that for sure. But what else?

Going to conferences is typically very difficult for me. I am a public speaker, a communicator. I have great difficulty staying focused, so I speak to others with that in mind. I work hard to read an audience to be sure that they’re with me. And I get a lot of positive feedback when I speak and teach.

I guess that is why I am having such a hard time these days. I’m not doing and even farther from being who my gifts make me. And some days, I just don’t have enough hope to see it ever happening again. I’m not trying to beat a dead horse—this is just the battle of my heart.

So I sat in this conference, fully believing that it was no accident that I was there; open to anything that would speak to me and my situation. I heard a lot—some of it I even wrote down.
Interestingly, on Thursday morning someone walked up to me at the factory and asked me how I was—simple question. Their next question was: what would you like to be doing? This guy knows my story, knows where I’ve been, knows what I’ve been, and knows what I would like to be doing. He then went on to describe a possible scenario and how I might fit into it—and be able to utilize my gifts and abilities. There definitely was an appeal, but reality came thudding back into my mind—nothing is probably going to come of this.

One thought that was oft repeated came from Patsy Claremont. She kept admonishing us to be willing to take the next step. Now, I have believed that I am always ready for the next step—when I know what it is and have been able to carefully research it. I don’t think I would have been at the front of the line there at the Jordan River “ready” to get my toes wet. For those of you less familiar with the story: that’s how the children of Israel got into the Promised Land. They stood there on the bank. The river was rushing by, full and fast. Got told them to get on over. It wasn’t until they stepped into the water that it parted, enabling them to cross.

So this morning I’m awake at 4:00. I’m on cleaning detail at work. We have worked far ahead on orders and there isn’t any manufacturing work to do. Monday I buffed the break room floor and did some data entry. Yesterday I scrubbed a machine—I have the bruises and skinned knee to prove I really got into the task. I’m feeling sort of superfluous. Lay-offs are a distinct possibility and because D is now trained in my old job and quite good at a few more than me, I feel that I’m a pretty prime target for the old pink slip.

I’m trying to prepare myself for this. I’m trying to be okay with it. I’m not doing very well. Being unnecessary isn’t easy for me. What’s the next step in all this? I’m going to go in and pack up all my personal belongings to bring home. But then what?

Yesterday I met with the director of volunteers at church. She’s looking for someone to do some writing of study guides for small group leaders. The guides flow with the text for the message on Sunday. I’m very interested in this. I would have more time to write if I wasn’t scrubbing big machines. Does a lay-off free me up to write more? Is that the next step?

My ducks are not in a row. In fact, they’re running willy-nilly everywhere. Oddly, I’m not scrambling to pull them all in. I’m sort of just sitting still and watching them run. They’re awfully cute out there just playing. Getting comfortable and okay with not controlling everything just isn’t easy.

So that’s where I am. It feels a bit like nowhere. I like that word. It’s not only “no where”, it’s also “now here.” And I guess that’s where I am: present but not certain of what that means or where that is. But here. Looking. Listening. Ready to take the next step.