Smashing into the Truth

One year ago today, (October 2, 2009) I walked away from an awful car accident. I was neither texting nor talking on a cell phone when it happened.  I simply ran into the back of the minivan in front of me. I had just left the place which would come to be listed on job applications as my most recent (former) place of employment and I was on my way to what would have been my last doctor appointment while covered by health insurance. All I know is that I looked up and suddenly found myself behind the wheel of a car that was hurtling into the stationary minivan in front of me. I escaped the accident with only a minor scratch inflicted by the force of the seat belt against my breast cancer awareness lapel pin and the bruises from the lap portion of my seatbelt.

There were all manner of conclusions drawn from this event. My personal favorite is the ever-churchy-but-not-always-useful "Maybe God is trying to tell you something." In my long history of less than careful driving, God could have told me something about my driving through the oracle of a car crash long ago. No, this crash was the beginning of a new story and not a hint of the old one.  If not for the car crash and the other situations which also crashed and burned on every side...I might not be...here. (Anybody got a GPS I can borrow because I'm still not really sure where here is!) The surrounding flames included the death of a bad marriage, the loss of a church 'family' (connected to the drama of the divorce), and the sobering revelation that several of my friendships lacked a certain level of reciprocity.

I woke up on the anniversary of the crash in what can best be described as a "pissy" mood. And that's really saying something because I have an extensive vocabulary but "pissy" is the most accurate word I can find. You see, one year later, I am again wondering what I will do for transportation since my current vehicle is sitting in front of my home - unable to get into gear. (Not because I crashed into something but because it has just crashed and burned on its own. God rest the dead.) The good news is that I am still a card carrying member of the Congregation of the Talented Yet Unemployed, so lack of transportation will not keep me from getting to work. I can always walk the mile down the street to the grocery store, so I won't starve and there are the three faithful sister-friends who have already offered to take me to the store if I need anything.  I will remain faithful to my commitment to avoid using my blog as a venue for whining and will point you in the general direction of my "pissiness" which is not uniquely relegated to me. Bear with me as I show you the view through my cracked, scratched, dirt-caked yet still rose-tinted glasses.

On this, the anniversary of what I thought was a new era in my life, I am frustrated and downright angry because despite the encouragement of my friends and others who know my work, I still have not found a job. Of course, I have been accused of being over-qualified (and I ask, in this age of celebrated mediocrity, what exactly is the working definition for over-qualified these days?). I have been accused of applying for jobs that will indicate that I have somehow settled for something that is beneath me. Last time I checked, the only thing beneath me was the ground. As my father once told me, I like to eat too much to think that there is a job that is beneath me.  I will scrub a toilet for the privilege of buying fresh fruits and vegetables at Whole Foods and the local farmer's market.  What I do feel is cheated. As an American, I feel entitled to certain 'rewards'. With the debt that I have accumulated as a student, I feel entitled to a job that will at least allow me to use that education in a venue which will also permit me to live comfortably. (Just so we are clear, now is NOT the time for ye olde Bible thumpers to remind me of heavenly rewards. The only way to reap heavenly rewards it to die and go to heaven...so, I'm not trying to hear that right now.) I am painfully aware, as are many in my same socio-and-economic position, that these comments are couched in a certain level of privilege...so please don't think that I have forgotten my station. I am simply trying to point out that there are many like me who have followed the rules and are wondering why it feels like it would have been better to have played the lottery or at least to play dirty from time to time.  Some of us believe that if you do what you love, the money will come but that has not been true for me. I loved teaching, but not only did the money not come, I also had to invest what I had in my students - in the form of school supplies, food, supplemental texts, etc. I love ministry and preaching...but...err..ah...yeah, let's just put that one on the shelf for another day because as you know, it's complicated!

On this, the anniversary of the accident, I am in a "pissy" mood because there are those who are not willing to merely listen to the rant of the (relatively) disenfranchised and would prefer that we just keep looking for a new job, a new mate, a new church or other suitable replacement for whatever we have lost...and just get over it. Ah, that's the nerve I wanted to touch. Get over it? Have we become such a selfish and cold-hearted society that our only response to pain (regardless of our unqualified assessment of someone else's pain) is 'get over it'? I am by no means advocating for wallowing in our sorrows, but I am asking us to stop stealing grief from one another. Your friends and family members may be dealing with repeated rejection (in and out of the job market), feelings of low self-worth (connected to an inability to provide for themselves or their loved ones), deep-seated heartbreak (embedded in the inability to live in the fullness of their sexual identity), and spiritual psychoses (you're not really looking for a parenthetical comment here, are you?).

On this, the anniversary of the accident, I had a liberating conversation with a brilliant and caring sister who reminded me that this blog can tell the 'good news' without sounding particularly happy.  She reminded me that the mere ability to identify and tell the truth of my experience is in and of itself the good news. So, on my anniversary, I am not having a pity party. I am, however, celebrating the truth in all of its ugliness and all of its beauty. In my "pissy" state of mind, I am able to sit with the truth and see it without the aid of my rose-tinted corrective lenses.  I don't need to fix, change, or struggle against it because it is not a static reality or the final and only reality. It is merely today's reality.


Shalom!

Yes, I could have chosen the straight Beyonce version, but this is my kind of smashing - if only into myself!