Dream Job

I park in the lot behind the shops on Main Street between 3rd and 4th Avenue. As I walk away from my car Mr. Green greets me and asks if I’ve seen his friend this morning. His friend is a black and white cat that sits on Mr. Green’s porch and meows to passers-by. I see him.

Mr. Green’s house is green and is home to his insurance business. It sits at the entrance of the parking lot. On the other side of the entrance is a bakery. Connected to the bakery is a café where I like to get breakfast or sometimes soup.

I walk between Mr. Green’s house and the bakery and look both ways before crossing. I see tree-lined sidewalks, shops to my left and adorable houses turned into boutiques to my right. Only Mr. Green’s house is not so adorable. It’s a little run-down.

Across the street in front of me is a large brick church with a parking lot bordered by a short brick wall. An alleyway separates the brick wall and the building I’m headed to. This is where I work Monday through Friday – downtown Franklin, Tennessee.

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I enter the glass door into a charmingly decorated entry way, make my way up the stairs, call out, “good morning,” and hear the same in response. I love this place. I thank God for it. How did I get so lucky? Luck? Oh, no, this was not luck.

A week before Christmas I was at a dinner party with longtime friends from San Diego – the hosting couple, my then roommate and another who was visiting for the holidays. As we were catching up with the latest happenings, someone asked me how my job was going. “You mean the temp job?” I asked. “That job ended. I was asked to stay on and I considered it because the people were wonderful, but the commute was horrible and nearly brought me to tears. And it didn’t pay well.” I explained that I was still looking for full time work.

The host-husband spoke up and said he had received a text from a friend who was looking to hire. He asked me if I would be interested, then began telling me about the job. All I heard was full time and what it paid. I said, “Yes.” Then the visiting friend asked if I thought I would like that kind of work. I didn’t pay attention to ‘what kind of work’ it was, so I asked to hear it again. It sounded like something I could do. I asked my friends what they thought? They knew me. The host-wife had even worked with me. Everyone was in agreement that this job seemed like a good fit. Immediately, the host-husband texted his friend and set things in motion.

I would have to wait until January to have my interview. I was told there was another person being interviewed as well. From the beginning, it all seemed like formalities because I just knew the job was mine.

It was not your typical interview or office setting. I sat on a purple velvet Victorian sofa opposite my potential boss sitting in a large brown leather chair. The room was cozy and showcased a large modern painting of a guitar that hung over the antique sofa. This, also, was not your typical accounting-tax firm. I learned that he and his wife had left the corporate world to venture out on their own. They wanted to do things differently, be relaxed and have fun, work with creatives and entrepreneurs. I got excited. I could do this. I wanted to do this. I told him so and practically begged him to hire me.

It was obvious to me that I was perfect for the job, but I had to wait for him to realize it and for him to interview that other person. I kept in touch through text messages and waited. Finally, I was called back for a second interview. This time it would be lunch with the team.

We walked from the office down the block to a pizza place. As we sat down I asked, “Does this mean I have the job?” Someone laughed at my boldness. The waitress took our drink orders circling around the table, me being last. Everyone ordered a beer. When it was my turn, I said, “I’m not ordering a beer until I know I have the job.” When we returned to the office I asked again, “Do I have the job?” I was told I would know soon. That evening I received a call with the offer.

It didn’t occur to me until later how this was truly an answer to prayer. Perhaps that’s why I felt certain the job was mine from the beginning from first hearing about it at the dinner party? I had actually written about this job in Early Morning Wake Up months earlier. It was a daydream turned into a prayer.

There is a Scripture that says we should make plans—counting on God to direct us. (Proverbs 16:9) I’m very grateful that God directs me because my plans of late are mostly only about getting through the day. When I dared to imagine what kind of job I would like and made a quick prayer out of it, I had no idea I would see it come to be. I didn’t give it much thought. But God was there all along directing me.

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