When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a helper in the kitchen. I remember when my Grandma Karla visited and we shred cheese for meals. One of us, in the midst of conversation and laughter, would nick ourselves with the grater and sullenly admit defeat to the dreaded "knuckle buster" yet again.
Today, my nerves feel like my knuckles did as a child.
I had my first job interview. High school English. One mile from our house. Ideal.
But now that it's all over, and I've re-thought and analyzed every answer I spoke, I'm a mess. I want this job more than I can quite put into words, and it's all out of my hands. That 30 minute interview is going to determine something I find monumental in my life, and I'm not handling that reality gracefully.
I ended the interview by boldly stating I am a capable and confident teacher, who would be a great asset to the staff, shook hands with the four people interviewing me, and drove the short stretch home to my awesome and huggable husband.
Now, after percolating for a few hours, I am watching "The Swan Princess," rekindling a childhood favorite for both Blake and I, and telling my mind, body, and soul they must stop churning, hiccuping, and stewing over this job, and succumb to distraction.
God is faithful, and I'm hanging onto His promises. Maybe I should get that tattooed to keep reminding myself of that.
i'll be praying for you! You're a great person and teacher> They'd be crazy not to hire you! (or God has better plan)
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