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| Well...I got what I asked for. I think.
I lost my job yesterday. They're letting me finish out the week, and since I'd already taken Saturday off to go to my sister's graduation, today's my last day.
The economy has not been kind to aviation, and when cutbacks come, the general rule is last one in, first one out. Despite the fact that I've been here for just over ten months, I am, in fact, the last one in.
My first thought when they sat me down and told me the news was: "Well, maybe I can just go to flight school." That thought was enough to keep me from crying, all the way up until they asked me whether I had anything to say. Then I cried, all the while trying to smile and assure them that I'd be ok. I think that pretty much said it all for me.
I called my dad, who was in the middle of deciding whether or not to co-sign for a $45,000 loan that would enable me to attend the flight school of my dreams. He sighed, offered his condolences, then told me he still needed more time to think about it.
I kept it together pretty well for the rest of the shift. Many friends sent kind words my way; one even offered to buy me dinner at Buzzbrews that night (which, of course, I took him up on).
I had a lot of time to think about all the good things...like the fact that the Lord knew even before I took this job back in July that I was going to lose it yesterday. Or like the fact that that very day, on little more than a whim, I had just gotten my medical certificate (which I have to have to fly) renewed, and my health insurance (which I will no longer have as of tomorrow) covered one hundred percent of the cost. Or the fact that I do have someone lined up to sublease my apartment for the summer, which would save me a great deal, and several friends have offered up couches and various other places to sleep. And I still had the hope that things would work out the way I wanted them to...
My dad called me this morning. He's not going to co-sign.
......
I'm not going to pretend I wasn't devastated. I'm not going to pretend that I had enough faith to shake it off and carry on through the rest of the day. In fact, at first, about every twenty minutes or so, I had to excuse myself to the bathroom, curl up on the counter and bawl.
But every time, the crying session ended with "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I have nothing but you." And eventually, the crying sessions were no longer an uncontrollable necessity. And all I could hear was God saying "Wait."
And you know, today turned out to be not so bad. The pilots who have let me fly with them on occasion had underhandedly encouraging things to say about a possible future working relationship with them. And we made more in tips (which, as of late, have become increasingly rare) tonight than I think we've made in one night since I started working here. These things in and of themselves are not enough to carry me, obviously. Thirty-two dollars in cash and vague references to possible employment somewhere down the road will not meet the needs that tower before me, will not bring me to the place that God has called me.
But that's ok, because He will meet those needs, and He will have me exactly where He wants me. There is not a doubt in my mind.
My flesh, on the other hand, is pitching a nervous fit. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to go kill my flesh. Ta.
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| I have got to get out of here.
Work is driving me nuts. I've been in some form or another of customer service now for five years and my patience for it is wearing very thin.
And you know, this isn't even the worst I've ever had to deal with. I've got stories about the dark side of the service industry that would curl your hair and make you cry for your momma.
It's just that...now I know what it is I'm supposed to be doing, and it's so much more desirable than what I'm doing now.
I need to get to flight school. Soon. | | |
| So, I didn't have much of a chance to get on the horn and call people to pray before the Lord showed up and answered. Course, I'm ok with that, but I thought I'd pass along news of the great works of his mighty hand anyway.
My cousin Jon is in the Marines; so is his wife, Dawn. Dawn is not far out of basic training, but Jon's been in for about a year and a half. He's learning to fly helicopters; once he's certified, he'll do so as part of the squadron assigned to the Presidential team. You know those helicopters that fly everywhere that Air Force One does? Yeah. That'll be my cousin.
Jon is extremely excited about this, because a) it's flying helicopters, and b) if he continues to do well, it'll lead to all sorts of exciting opportunities when he leaves the Marines. He could very easily end up working for the Secret Service, or the FBI. Adventure galore.
Two days ago, after his very last training flight, Jon was performing routine post-flight maintenance when a fuel valve broke, soaking him in jet fuel.
Uncombusted jet fuel is highly toxic and extraordinarily dangerous. Jon was left with mild chemical burns on certain parts of his body, but far worse than that was the fact that some of it got into his ear. The doctors say it partially melted his eardrum, and that immediately after exposure, his ear canal looked like it was full of "cooked meat."
An injury that catastrophic to your ear would not only affect your ability to communicate but also your spatial perception...both of which are absolutely imperative to aviation. Just like that, his flying career could have been over.
My own flying career was nearly over before it began, thanks to an irregular heartbeat. To those of us who love the sky, nothing is more devastating than being told you may never be able to bring yourself there again. I don't remember ever praying over anything more intensely than the results of those exams that would eventually clear me to fly, and I took a little of that same intensity with me when I went before the Lord to plead for Jon's ear.
Jon called me today. His doctors are astonished at how quickly he's healing and tell him he should be back in the air within a week.
Amazing. God is so good.  | | |
| Finally, after a year and a half of dreaming (and slowly amassing a good amount of places to sit), my apartment became the gathering place I always wanted it to be. I stuffed twelve Jesus-loving people into 384 square feet for a Passover dinner. And it was a smash.
I'd been deep cleaning my apartment for the last five days. I reorganized my closet, repaired furniture, scrubbed every kitchen item I owned, and dusted and swept and windexed every visible surface in my apartment. The Ayars ladies, Caitlin, Jana, and Mama Christine, showed up at 3 o'clock and we got down to the business of re-dirtying up my kitchen and transforming my living room floor into a dining room table.
All our fears about mismatched dining implements and tacky seder plates were assuaged with a little ingenuity and tradition fudging. All our challenges concerning lack of kitchen space and things to cook with were met with brave faces and lots of dish soap. All the slices in our fingers were sealed with Daniel's super tube of super glue and we soldiered on.
People began trickling in at about 5; Caleb and Eli (and Eli's guitar), Andy, Brooke and Clint. There were lots of introductions, lots of singing, picture taking, swinging on my new patio swing, and just general joviality as the whirlwind of cooking raged on.
And at 7:30 we sat down to eat the passover dinner, sing ancient songs, and remember the mighty hand of the Lord and all that he has delivered us from. We took turns reading the haggadah, and we raised our glasses time and again in praise and thanks to our God. We opened the door for Elijah; our friend Eliazar showed up instead.
Afterwards, we went outside, full and barefooted, into the dark backyard and danced all of the dances we could remember, til the boys fell down and the fire ants found Caitlin. Cat came by after her class and started applying baking soda to Caitlin's burning feet; thus, the apartment contained twelve people.
We wound down pretty quickly after that. People left in ones and twos, until the first to show up became the last to leave. We rolled up our sleeves, put on a movie, and tackled the momentous task of cleaning. We laundered linens, washed all the dishes, packed up all the (surprising amounts of) leftover food, and marveled at what a wonderful seder it had turned out to be. I finally got around to booting everyone out at about 2 am, but not before praying for Miss Catherine's eyes. Jana and Caitlin were both too tired to drive, but Catherine has problems with blurred double vision at night.
I got a text from Caitlin after they left...Catherine was having none of her usual vision problems at all. What a wonderful God we serve.
You know, many times throughout the course of the evening, I would look around and have my soul touched by how beautiful fellowship is. I loved it. I want more of it.
My home is open to you, brothers and sisters. Do take advantage of it. | | |
| He's so perfect. The Lord, that is.
On Wednesday, I got to sit right seat in the Pilatus PC-12 I've told you guys about before for a little day trip to Austin. It was to be an hour of flying, an untold (but likely lengthy) amount of time sitting around, then one more hour of flying. It was pretty last minute, but not so last minute I couldn't have called ahead and warned my numerous relatives and friends in the area of my impending arrival...alas, I did not. I made a few phone calls once I arrived, and got a lot of "I wish you'd called sooner!" sentiments, but fortunately, my Aunt Amy was home with my three-year old cousin Caleb.
Spending the day with Amy & Caleb (with my Uncle Kenny & Grandma Nadine popping in for a time) was exactly what I needed. Amy hadn't been caught up on the whole where-my-life-is-headed story, so we talked about flying, New Guinea, and best of all, the Lord, for hours.
I left with a copy of Lords of the Earth (by the same guy who wrote Peace Child; it's also about the tribesman of that area), and a renewed spirit. I'd been somewhat afraid I'd lost some of that drive for my calling, and as I'm sure you all well know, when the drive starts to fade, so does your certainty about whether or not the call was ever really yours to begin with. But the more I talk about it, the heavier it presses itself into my heart. And the more that the knowledge that I will never be able to accomplish this on my own increases, the deeper my trust in the Lord grows.
So yeah, I got what I needed. For now. And the rest is up to Him, and I am way, way okay with that. | | |
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