Tag Archives: job

How I Got A Job – Another One of God’s Little Miracles

Sure, I can do this. Sure. Photo compliments of npclark2k http://mrg.bz/maI4Xd

I should rephrase the title. God’s miracles aren’t little. If someone gets up and starts walking again (with no medical explanation) after being in a wheelchair for years  or a person barely misses being hit by a semi-truck going out of control, people say a huge miracle has occurred. However, a miracle is a miracle. I’ve been blessed in my life with many miracles. I call them wondrous outpourings of God’s grace.

I need to get back to work again. After two years of not working because of being ill, it’s time. I’m not quite well enough to get a full-time job, and even a part-time job of 20 hours a week might be pushing it right now. So God sent me a job where I’ll be working six hours a week. This, combined with the writing and editing work I just received, will do just fine.

Here’s how the job happened. I went out to lunch at a new restaurant called “Mon Amie” in Spartanburg. For those of you who live here, it’s right across from Yanni’s on East Main Street. The place is decorated in French country style, all the ingredients are fresh, and the owners are the former owners of Billy D’s, a very popular, longstanding restaurant also in Spartanburg.

Anyway, my friend and I were talking. I gave her some advice. She had to go to the restroom. While she’s gone, the lady at the table next to me asked, “What kind of work do you do?” I told her I’ve been a writer and editor for the last 15 years, except for two years of teaching ESL in South Korea. “You speak very well,” she said. Then, “Do you do secretarial work?”

“Years ago I was a secretary and office manager, as well as being the business manager for a magazine for awhile,” I said.

“Well, we really need someone, but it’s only six hours a week.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said. We settled on the details of me going to their home to talk further (it’s a home-basied business). “Wow,” I thought, “it really does sound perfect…a great way for me to get back in the groove of working out of my house.”

Yesterday we sealed the deal. Only one hitch. Judy and Phil, the owners of the business, use an electric typewriter for invoicing. Yikes. I haven’t used one in years. As a matter of fact, I haven’t even used a regular computer keyboard for years. I use a natural keyboard, and find it difficult to type on my laptop.

Sunday night, I cried. “Have I really sunk so low as to have to work at this job?” I asked. Immediately I heard, “Be grateful and full of joy. I know your needs and will fulfill them as necessary.” My tears of pride turned into tears of joy, because I know God is taking care of me, even when I can’t take care of myself.

Also, yesterday I received an editing job from a Latino consulting engineer who is working in Vietnam. AND, I have three articles due for an online magazine this week. Life is good, so very, very good.

May you have a blessed day. Don’t forget to look for the miracles.



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Slipping Through the Cracks

plant in sidewalk
Isn’t this a wonderful photo? I found it on morguefile.com. It was taken by giulian.

Luke 10:33 (NIV) But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.

It’s hard to tell how old he is. His long, wavy brown hair is clean, and his reddened face makes me wonder if he is/was an alcoholic or just has weathered skin from being in the sun. His warm brown eyes belittle the rest of his appearance, which includes almost always dressing in camouflage.

I met him at the convenience store. Every night, night after night, week after week, month after month, he stands outside because once there was a robbery and he wants to make sure the women who work late at night into the wee hours of the morning are safe. The company doesn’t pay him to do this. He does it because it is his way of serving others.

His little red moped scoots down the road to his sparsely furnished house without air conditioning. His voice is soft and his grammar is pretty bad. He’s lived in Spartanburg all his life.

Being a writer, I’m always asking people questions. This drives my daughter nuts! She says, “Mom, you shouldn’t ask her such personal questions.”

I always respond with the same answer. “Well, Mol, I’m a writer and that’s what writers do.” If I had a dollar for every time we’ve had that short conversation, I’d probably be buying a home in the Hamptons.

Anyway, I needed an extra pair of hands and a strong back for my move in December 2010. I asked the gal at the store if she would trust him to help. She said, “Absolutely. We’ve never had anything go missing as a result of him being here.”

So I asked him if he would like to make some money, and he said “Sure” in his slow Southern drawl.

He did show up to help and did a wonderful job.

A few days later I saw him at the soup kitchen where I volunteer.

Fast forward to night before last. I had a car full of groceries and garage sale items I hadn’t unloaded yet. I was exhausted from running around, and it was getting late. I didn’t want to make 10 trips to the car, so when I saw him outside the store I stopped to ask if he would like to help. He agreed and came over, unloaded the car, hooked up my new flat screen TV (small for my office; I guess I’m finally in the 21st century now!).

Then we had dinner. I’d bought some fried chicken and potato salad. He wolfed it down. We chatted. He told me he’d had a job at a car wash in town for 20 years, but then he found a better job and then lost that one. He hasn’t had a job since and now does whatever work he can find. His friend lets him live in the house rent free.

He told me he doesn’t have food stamps, disability or any type of government assistance. Amazing. Seems like everyone these days gets that stuff, and some of them actually look like they live better than I do, taking vacations and so forth.

It used to be that when I would meet someone like him I would immediately take the person under my wing, try to fix and change them, and mostly feel self-righteous — as if I was God’s special messenger doing my part one person at a time.

I don’t do that anymore. I learned my lesson the hard way after getting ripped off by two people I tried to help…sometimes I’m a very slow learner.

He’s coming over today to do some planting for me because I just can’t get down on my knees right now. It’ll probably take an hour, and I’ll pay him $10 so he can have some money to put gas in the moped.

This man has slipped through the cracks of our society. So many have. One of my passions is helping the homeless. My dream is to renovate some of the old schools, mills, etc. around here and turn them into sustainable housing. I still have time.

Some people say you shouldn’t give people on the street money. Instead, they say you should buy them a meal. Over the years, some people have said to me, “Most of them are just alcoholics or drug addicts, OR (with a smirk) they’re mental cases, and THAT’S why you shouldn’t give them money. You can never be sure, you know? You never know what they might do to you.”

Though these people are partially correct, I ALWAYS give someting. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’ve been homeless so many times (never on the street, but very close).

Anyway, what do you do when you pass someone on the street who asks for money or you meet someone who is slipping through the cracks? Does it make you feel as good as it does me when you help someone else?

And, would you like to help me make my dream come true? Let me know what you could bring to the table (skills, money, who do you know, etc.) by emailing me directly.

Have a blessed day.

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