Guest Post: Craig

I had written a page and half about the plot of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I love Star Trek and DS9 is my favorite series in the canon. It was good writing—in my opinion. But I scrapped it all. It wasn’t making the point I wanted to make with this piece. Which begs the question: what is the point I want to make? Well, if I knew, then I’d tell you.

Recently, I had finished watching Deep Space Nine (again), and in a little texting convo with Sara, I mentioned that I like Star Trek and that particular series so much because it speaks truth. This being on my mind, when she asked my to write for her blog, “Speak Truth” was what I thought I should write about. Sara suggested I write about hope. So, now I’m stuck trying to mix “hope” and “speak truth” together into something meaningful. Here’s the deal: I’ll speak some truths. These truths are meaningful to me. If they’re meaningful to you, then I’m glad. If you find hope in my words, then I’m grateful.

One year ago, I had my resume up-to-date and many other needed documents ready to apply for jobs. I’m a high school English teacher. I spent seven years working at a small school in a small town out in south eastern Utah. I’m not a small town person. That seventh year I faced some the hardest days, weeks, and months I had yet experienced in my life. And so I sought for a new job. Interview after interview, rejection after rejection. I was discouraged before this process began, but discouragement kept rising.

One more school in St. George called. They called on a Thursday afternoon wanting to set up the interview for the next Monday. These people have weird timing. I had applied for that position, wanted a new job, but not that one. I didn’t know if I wanted to call back and schedule the interview or not. I asked advice from a colleague friend who knew about my efforts to find a new job.  He said to me: “Did you pray about it?” Umm… no. No, I hadn’t. “I guess you know what to do then,” he replied.

That night, I knelt beside my couch and began to pray—or rather, I began to rant. I ranted about how unfair it all was. I even accused the Maker of not caring if I got a new job or not—not caring if I was happy or not. Then I ended and went to bed. Just a few hours later, I stopped my alarm from making noise early Friday morning and went straight to my knees beside my bed and tried to apologize for all the dumb things I said the night before. I said that I decided not to schedule the interview at that school in St. George, then asked if that was okay. I didn’t know what I expected, but peace was a welcome surprise. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt peace. Calming, quiet peace, and I knew I would be okay.

Later that day, when I pulled my phone out of my desk drawer at the start of my prep period, I saw a missed call and a voicemail from a high school in Utah County that wanted to interview me the next Wednesday. This one interested me. I set up the interview. I went to the interview. I nailed it—apparently, because the next week they offered me the position. I accepted the position.

Life was going to get better.

Life did not get better.

Life simply became different.

I don’t know how to explain that. Perhaps a contradiction: Life is still basically the same. All that was difficult before is still there. All the stress and anxiety I felt before is still there. The last two months have been long and hard. However, the experience of a totally different teaching gig has been quite enlightening. Talk about professional development! At that small school, I was a dang good amazing teacher! At this big school, I suck. But it will get better. It did before, and it will again. As for now, I’ve said I hate this job countless times. The workload is nearly unbearable. And then the kids—I’m pretty sure Satan is in my class. Teaching is a big part of my life, but it isn’t my whole life. I don’t think my life is very well balanced. But that’s okay because every night I tell the Universe about it. Every morning the Universe hears about what I want for that day. Most of the time, I wonder if my words actually reach the Universe. One day about a year ago, they did, and I have to believe they will again. I may die before I feel that peace again, but perhaps, lasting peace doesn’t come until after death. I’ll wait, and in the meantime, I’ll watch Star Trek.