He works in mysterious ways.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Work has been rough, life, work-- same thing now. Things are running together, and as they run, I'm trying to walk against the deluge. By the way, it doesn't work. Fighting the waves is just as fruitless as it sounds, so I'm beginning to think that I should stop fighting. Not give up or give in, just... stop. See how long I last standing on my own two feet.

This past week was especially difficult for me. Tiny little failures keep building up to the point where I don't so much question my faith as I.. get frustrated. I have always wondered how people could "get mad at God" and have always been a firm believer of that idea that there's a rainbow after the rain, but when it rains, it truly does pour. I've been spiritually soaked this entire week and I don't know if I'm drying out or not.

When my family came to visit on Sunday, my plans didn't just fall through, they crashed. They collapsed in on themselves like a rice-paper scoop trying to hold a goldfish aloft. I don't even think I'm ready to talk about it, because the thought of it brings tears to my eyes still. It shouldn't, it's in the past, and I did have a good time with my mother and brother, but personal failures like that... they make me realize that trying to be an adult is a lot tougher than it looks. My mom was right, trying to work and play host at the same time is impossible.

I've run out of food at home, I've been staying late at work, I've had my early release requests denied. All week. But when I want to hate my job, when I'm on my last thread of sanity because I've been made to stay late, or I've seen my family from afar, enjoying the park, or when I begin to think about how I'll never get home, how all I'll have to do when I arrive at my apartment is throw a makeshift dinner together and go to bed... God throws a wrench in those plans of frustration. The anger I harbor ebbs, because He shows me something greater, and it always brings tears - of relief, of gratefulness - to my eyes.

While I may hate my job and complain about it, I can't say I hate the people I work with. I can't hate people. Ever. There is such a great, under-appreciated group of people working in Outdoor Foods. Under-appreciated by their peers and by themselves, I think.

I couldn't even form a coherent response, and it was only made worse when they followed up with 'and how long are they here for?' A day. A day is not enough for me, and I was completely denied even a day with them. It frustrates me how some people are so concerned about themselves. One of the guys I worked with Sunday was asked to stay late in my stead, and after saying 'no,' he grilled me on the 'why?' Why did I want to stay late? Family. Oh, how long are they here for? A day. I'm sorry. No you're not. I wanted to turn on him and tell him, no-- no, if you were sorry, you'd stay here for me. But did I? No. I stared out at Indy from where I was at Gertie's and waited to close that horrible place so I could cry. And I cried. I stood in there, power blasting the stupid ice cream machine and cried into the sink.

I know that Carlos, my zone coordinator, tried to get me an ER, but no one was biting. He tried, and that's all that mattered. I was grateful and in the end, he ended up tying up the loose ends of my job so that I could at least get out of work... even if it wasn't early. There was real sympathy in his eyes, and I appreciate that.

Though I don't want to talk about what happened after work, God did appear in the end of the night and with the laughter that ensued. I don't know if it was from tiredness, panic, or what-- but we laughed and laughed and laughed until we all fell asleep.

I had a rough day following the debacle that was Sunday. While I went into work with a high head, the day quickly wore on me. Whenever someone asked be about 'time with my family,' all I managed was a sad smile, tears just a step behind them. The only thing I really remember from that day is that I spoke with one of the full-timers, Karem; she's from Puerto Rico. And we just talked about food... and somehow, that made me happier. Sometimes I'm astounded with just how well God knows me. He knows just what to do to get a smile on my face and how to ease my suffering, just for a bit, even though He's putting me through some trials. I'm supposed to be learning a lesson here, I've come to realize. Karem was like a taste of home though, and the Lord knows how I love simply talking with people, getting to know them.

The next day was the same deal. It started out good. I had to open one of the kiosks and when getting my pretzels for my area, I got to talk to Luis, this older guy that usually works in the pretzel kitchen. He's intimidating, walks with a limp, seems to always be in a foul mood... but he's always sweet to me and seemed real concerned over my well-being. He's like an uncle, real gentle and calls me mami. For some reason, that made my day. My friend Carlos (a different one from the above mentioned-- this one's Portuguese) walked me out to my kiosk and helped me set up. That made me happy; I really like Carlos. The day was relatively unhurried. However, it soon got tiresome as the day progressed and my coordinator forgot that I needed a break. I saw Luis periodically throughout the day when he had to deliver pretzels, and we would chat for a bit, but after the fourth or so hour, my feet were beginning to give out on me. While it wasn't busy, I was getting tired. I finally got my break at 3:40 when I'd been in that kiosk since about 10:30 that morning.

Later, I had to close Icon Nut... which is fine, but I'm notoriously slow at counting bottles and cleaning. I thought I'd never get out of work at a decent hour. After doing my counts, I went to the kitchen to clean the pans for the stand and saw Luis again, and he walked me through where I would clean and whatnot. I like him a lot, I really, truly do. He's such a nice man. Anyway, when I was finally done with all of that, I practically ran back onstage to my kiosk so that I could clean...

...but when I got there, the light was on, and my coordinator, Cindy, was cleaning the area for me. It was done, all of it. I was so speechless, I could have cried. She turned and said: "Well, I saw you put in for an ER and didn't get it, so..."

Thinking about it still brings tears to my eyes. God was at it again. Little things, small kindnesses. He knows me too well.

Yesterday was tough again... just because it was long. I asked for an ER, planning on heading out early so I could go to Wal-Mart. I'm literally out of food. By 5:30, however, I realized I wasn't going to get it. I felt like my insides were wilting. I was so tired, so very tired that I couldn't even keep the corners of my mouth up in a smile. It's terrible, really. I'm an awful liar and I couldn't even feign happiness for our guests. I just wanted to go home. I had to close a combo cart, which included counting and restocking, which I abhor because I'm so slow at it. The guy that helped me close (I don't know his real name because he wears a nametag that says 'Craig -- Jamaica' and he's clearly Hispanic), he'd helped me close before, and I was under the impression he hated me. He looks so serious, so mean. As we were getting ready to go, I asked about a Petco coupon and headband someone left behind, told him I'd feel bad if we threw it away. He laughed and asked if I had a pet.

I said yeah, a dog, to which he responded that I could use the headband as a collar and just use the Petco discount card. I laughed and told him the sparkly, green headband wouldn't exactly fit around my 95 lbs. Doberman's neck. He was surprised I had a Doberman-- apparently that's his favorite kind of dog. He told me how his aunt had two, she had to put them down, then we headed out on our way backstage.

We met up with another stocker and the three of us moved our carts backstage. On our way there, 'Craig' asked if I knew how much stock goes in the cart, and I told him no, I hadn't memorized it yet and that I'd never get out of work on time because of it. He told me the numbers and then let me take my cart in first. And I made it past the corner without crashing! THAT was a feat! He humored me by telling me I deserved a fanatic card.

Well, anyway, I went into the office to return my money and sort through my cards, then I had to plug a bunch of undocumented spoils into the machine I'd been using. Ugh, time consuming. When I FINALLY got outside for reload, my cart was gone... and around the corner, 'Craig' and another guy were doing the counts for my soda and reloading for me. I ran over to help, not without being stunned to silence, of course, and tried to get some work in. After I'd parked the carts, we were walking back and Craig said 'See? And you said you wouldn't get out on time.'

It was something like 7:49 P.M. Let me tell you what a feat that is. When I close, I usually have to stay 45 extra minutes afterward because of how slow I am. I don't even know what to say....

Just when I want to hate where I work, God throws a wrench in my plans. Just when I want to give in and throw a tantrum, when I want to be mad at Him like a child, not understanding the sacrifice and the lessons that their parent is trying to teach them, wants to scream and stamp their feet, that parent kneels down on their level to coax them to silence. Like Daniel told me last night, you don't throw your anger at God, you throw it at His feet.

I drew a picture a while ago, of a girl lying on her face in a giant palm, and with it, I wrote:

She falls-- but there is no bottom. When she hits those open palms, warmer than love itself, she will sleep until she is strong again.

And she is strong because He gives her strength. He will hold her in His palms until she is strong enough to get up again, and even when she does get up, His hand, His arm is there to hold her up-- just in case.

I have lessons to learn and they're tough, but I know I can get through these trials.