That big plate full of stuff I was talking about a few weeks ago was suddenly and unceremoniously dumped in the trash.
In its place? A crap ton of lemons.
This morning I received a job rejection after a phone interview, a face-to-face interview, a personality profile, and a week of waiting.
I wanted a positive, upbeat environment after the hell I endured for a year and a half. I wanted to actually believe I was making a difference in people's lives, in some small way. Everyone I met was so nice and I thought everything went very well. Then I got this:
"Thanks for interviewing with our company...we wanted to inform you that you were not chosen for the position."
A form email. Nice.
How is it that I don't have what it takes for this job?
I shook that off as best I could, telling myself every encouraging verse, positive quote, and cliche I could possibly think of to bolster my sagging self-esteem.
Move on. That job was not meant to be mine. God has something better for me.
I left for a meeting that had been anticipated for about a week. It had to do with an article I had pitched to Reject Apathy about the pain and suffering that still exists in post-civil war Bosnia-Herzegovina. The Managing Editor liked the idea and gave me a deadline of November 4th.
The bell rang, the starting gate flung open, and I bolted out of the chute. I thought about my angle day and night. I interviewed someone who had been to the camp this past spring. I wrote a few sentences while waiting to interview a Bosnian national via Skype.
I just knew I was doing something of Kingdom value.
At lunchtime, I met with the person that I believed would be able to facilitate donations to a refugee camp where people live in deplorable conditions, and I believed I had support.
[Looking in the mirror] Oh, the naive and idealistic. Bless their hearts.
In less than 15 minutes my article was shot down. Don't bother with 911.
Two rejections--rather big ones--by lunchtime. Ouch.
At home again, I sat at my desk to check my email. First in the stack--Your credit card statement is ready for viewing.
I tried very hard not to, but there was too much on my internal pile of "stuff". I felt the volcano start to rumble and rise in my throat, and then--tears, damn it.
Who knew that trying to help a group of suffering people in a war-torn country that is yet to recover 16 years later could be so complicated? So political? So many toes to step on?
Clearly, I need an intuition tune-up, or God just needs to simplify things by writing his plan for me on my walls. Fine with me, go ahead and mess up the paint.
How have you handled your rejections?