Kicking & Screaming

On December 31, 2015, I fell off of a ladder and broke my very first bone- the arm. I wish this was the start of a very cool tale with ninjas and PARKOUR, but sadly it is pretty pitiful and ended with a perc-y not a pop. The good news is- it’s a mercifully short story and not really the point of this piece. Rather, I want to tell you about my very first big girl job where I had the blessing of meeting one of the next very important characters in the story of my life. How the broken wing and the big girl job come together is the real start of the story, but this job was also the start of my entire trajectory that ultimately led me home. I would intentionally schedule this first real job interview on the same day as the reparative surgery to put my wrist back together because I figured- if I don’t get the job, at least I’ll be doped up enough to dull the sting. I appreciate everyone withholding their judgement, this was over ten years ago but between us hens- I’d probably still (try to) pull the same trick today. ANYWAY, because I was only in a splint and this was pre-Hulu documdrama days on the dangers of opioids, I was prescribed enough Percocets to last me until the surgery and then there would be a fresh batch doled out for the recovery. I’m telling on myself a little bit here to set the scene for my candor and way too casual demeanor heading in to this, what would become a pivotal, life changing job interview for a (FULL TIME) Research Assistant position at the Richmond VA hospital. I walked in there, cool as a cucumber loaded with painkillers and promptly turned the wrong direction off of the elevator because I was too busy trying to schmooze the manager with the, “should have seen the other guy” line re the broken wing. Obviously, I charmed (or scared) their pants off during the interview because I remember nothing and I got the job a week later. 

Evidence #3.a - crime scene photo. Not pictured: humiliation. Too large to fit in the frame.

The woman who would become my supervisor turned out to be one of the wisest, most generous, considerate and all around rock star role models I could have had the blessing of learning from. A lady never reveals her or any other ladies’ age, and I have a bad habit of assuming everyone is my exact age with my same story (no???), but as the Lord would have it- I needed someone with just a few more seasons under their belt to show me how the world worked. Just like Cher’s dad said, two permits do not equal a license! I needed someone with their own license and at least a few close calls if not a couple of outright fender benders, otherwise I would find any reason to doubt their street cred because they didn’t understand??? Unfortunately yes, I was a classic young twentysomething who believed I knew everything and that I was suffering in ways no one else could comprehend. Enter: reality, everyone has a sob story and no one actually cares that your body hurts from having to wake up before 8 AM for the first time since ‘Nam (that’s an industry term for Vietnam). My then supervisor, now one of (count on one hand) my best girlfriends, swooped in to show me the ropes, encourage my ideas, foster my confidence, gently but firmly delivering constructive criticism on both shop and non-shop matters. I’m pretty sure everyone has worn soft stretchy pants to work before??? The difference between “sweatpants” and “business ~heavy on the casual~ pants” is in the eye of the position title holder I guess, e.g. boss vs not the boss. Apparently those are for the farmers market and not the workplace, according to the powers that be. Jokes on her because I wear lots of stretchy pants all the time nowadays MWAHA. They’re mostly covered in peanut butter and oatmeal, but still! It takes incredible talent to lead a team of different positions with completely incongruous backgrounds, including former military to PhD/MD scientists, to new grad RAs who don’t know what to do with their hands (or pants). But she took a chance on little old me and has the DELIGHT of my company even after I left the employ of our old boss, POTUS. Another lesson- the “President” refers to the actual President when you work for the FEDERAL government. Don’t worry, I taught her how to use Instagram and how many days you can go between washes. Obviously one of us outpaces the other in life lessons, but I’ll leave that mystery up to the reader to decide :) I had the privilege of learning how to navigate hard days, tackle hurdles practically and yap sessions to balance the scales, under the tutelage of someone who only wanted my growth, success, and ultimate happiness. Someone who wasn’t putting others down for the advancement of their own career, never said no when I asked for help, and always operated with integrity set such a wholesome and positive example for me and surely many others in her orbit. 

So … how do I follow THAT in my life?! Let’s start with what comes to mind when you think of good leader qualities? Since I have the talking stick, I’ll go first- obvi individual characteristics, such as courage, determination, loyalty, strength and many others that are equally important. But I wanted to yap about the other part of being a good leader of people, in the way a good coach or team captain connects with and rallies a team, in the ability to see the big picture, the birds eye view and how the players on the field can or won’t work together. I’m sure anyone with a husband (or younger sister anyone?) who watches football has heard, or gone in one ear and out the other, the agonizing situation when a coach and quarterback are at odds. I won’t pretend to dazzle anyone with football stats, I watch when my husband and sister put it on and ask them a minimum of twenty questions every time. I enjoy the matches and when I root, I fight for old DC. I won’t get into the politics of the name and as long as they win they can go by whatever they want, but all of my merch only says Redskins- so that’s the flag this house is going to fly. When the Steelers aren’t playing, of course. Now! Back to the point, who cares about foosball and I only know the basics of how that works anyway. But I imagine there is something even a quarterback, or new grad RA or vocational Head Hen™ (TM - that’s me), has in common when it comes to playing, working or living for their coach - trust. 

In keeping with the sports theme, though there will undoubtedly be mixing of metaphors ahead, I guess you could say I rode the bench for the first 32 seasons of my life. There was NO WAY I was beating Kevin down Cherry Hill, even just once. But my time would come this season, as I was thrust onto the field to play the game I should have been extremely well prepared for. I went to Catholic school from kindergarten through high school, kept up with the major holidays, and fulfilled allllllll the minimum parishioner requirements to be a parishioner. But it turns out, riding the bench only gives you a warm seat view from the outside looking in, never having to expend any effort and therefore never really knowing how the game actually works. “For just as a body without a spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead” James 2:26. There are more downsides to the IR bench club than just the aforementioned- including the critical formation of bonds with your coach, teammates, organization; lack of opportunities to learn and grow better; the rush of winning. It’s one thing to be on the team that wins, it’s unforgettable to be the one who scores the winning point. In the same way, it’s one thing to be on the team that loses, but it’s another when you experience defeat and only feel more empowered, more convicted and hungrier than before to win the next game. So not only has the bench robbed me of winning, but also from learning valuable lessons that will vanish at the sound of the buzzer (or whistle or bell or whatever sound the games make). No one wants a bandwagon fan OR consolation cryer when they didn’t help one way or the other. I needed to stop crying, get in the game and pray I make it all four quarters. For any of my fellow Washington fans, you know this is something completely foreign. But I have hope for Jayden Daniels, if this ever reaches him!!! I had to trust God, the way a QB trusts a coach, that He would not be putting me in a position or against a foe I wouldn’t be able to play. If I needed help, a TO, seventh inning stretch or just some comfort that the slaughter rule wasn’t going to kick in after chasing the chickens for 8 hours … He was and is there, always. He has already won, death has been defeated and Christ still died for me and all of us, whether we win or lose. That’s the team I want to play for and the coach I want to work my ass off for(ever).

Now, I have painted a serene picture of how my tootsies were dipped back into the faith (game), gently coming off the bench and getting a few practice shots in nice and easy. That is part of the picture! The other part of the picture, much like the direction of this article seems, is a full on Monet - from far away it’s okay, but up close it’s one big mess. But there will be a point, hang in there hens! Sometimes you’re at the ready, itching to head into the game, other times you have to be shoved out there kicking and screaming. I think from the title you can guess which was my start to this season. There was a bit of a humility curve, or litany, when I started going back to church regularly. I knew the format and flow of the mass, because it is a little bit of muscle memory and a lottle bit following the lady in front of me, but I’ve never actually spoken to any of the other parishioners at the church let alone the priest. I’ve never participated in any fellowship, mothers groups, events or charities within the church either. I had only ever been to church on Sundays (sometimes), Easter and Christmas Eve and never during the day for a daily mass, Adoration, or family faith formation meeting. So you can imagine my horror when some of the kindest, most sincere and Christ-like women, men and children started speaking to me and inviting us to every family function that was on the calendar. They absorbed us immediately, from the first mass we attended and every one since then. Even though I was comforted and blown away by their genuine kindness and earnest interest in our family, I was still well outside my comfort zone and realized I didn’t know much of anything about how the church really works. They did and do, and have shown me more in that past year than I have ever learned in my 32 season bench ride. Where I used to hope they wouldn’t see me as I hustled out of the church while the St. Michael prayer (and younger daughter) was on my heels, I now find myself hoping to catch one of these ladies so I can catch up and ask how they are, hear what’s new and just general gab fests. I can’t believe how much I’ve learned, but also how much I’ve enjoyed not only learning but practicing my faith - recognizing Scripture, experiencing Adoration, praying for my family with other women praying for their families. The first season off the bench is like the first pancake- a great first try that you’ll of course still celebrate with a trophy, but there’s a bowl of batter left for improvement. Jesus knows I love pancakes and hate new things (just ask my husband re CSI or SVU), but for Him, I will try.

St. Therese the Little Flower (aka Maeve) for All Saints Day event at church. Not pictured: me anxiously awaiting this event. Also not pictured: uncontainable joy and fun that was had at this event.

At Mass on Sunday, the gospel was about John the Baptist pwning (sp?) the Pharisees and Sadducees at the Jordan. Although I don’t think JtB would agree with that characterization, (I can pull out the Kuzco meme again if needed), this is my (re-)telling. “Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you, God can raise up children to Abraham from these stones” Matthew 3:8-10. It isn’t enough to know the rules and regs of the game, it isn’t enough to assume I’d be saved or protected because I was part of the Catholic club, and it isn’t even enough to play the game just for the sake of playing. Jesus is calling me to play for real- feel every run, catch, fumble, hit, rush, pitch, tackle, home run and every other sports or life metaphor that would fit here. It isn’t enough to play for the sake of playing on the “right” team, because that isn’t real. Jesus is the real deal and gives us what no other coach, team, sport or anything on earth can when we lose: faith, hope, and above all- love. Only Jesus, only God, only the Church can and will pick me up after I win or lose. That’s the ultimate irresistible deal in my book and how blessed are we that anyone can play for Him? 

So after all of this, you’d think I’d be under my bed hiding from the next social event or big idea that comes my way and you’d be right! I still don’t love new things or getting out of my comfort zone (present exercise included), but I’m off the bench and getting real playing time. So much so that I’m shocked to find myself asking God to put me in, coach! Where do you need me?! Who are we saving today!? But that isn’t my job on the field. My job is to live out my vocation, practice my faith, serve God and spread His gospel. He sees the whole field and knows how it ends, and wants every single one of us to be on His team. It’s never too late to sign up or get off the bench. Come on, there’s always going to be a spot for you at O’Shea Chevrolet :) See you out there!