It’s been three months and two weeks since we left Greece with many plans and hopes for the future. We were going to come to Ireland, find work, make some money to put aside for our retirement and a little home of our own. On top of that I had a strong sense that I was coming back to Ireland to help with a children’s or women’s ministry of some sort. Broken down into smaller steps, I was going to find temporary work as a substitute teacher, as I had done in the past, look after my little one the days I would have no work and in the meanwhile try and figure out where God wanted me to help.
Three months, two weeks and some days later I have achieved NOTHING of what I had planned.
I only had three(yes, THREE!!!) days of work since we came back as a substitute teacher. In consequence I started looking for alternatives but apparently selling yourself for less doesn’t get you more in this country: I am overly qualified to work as a classroom assistant so in consequence “thank you for your enquiry but on this occasion you were unsuccessful.” I even applied to be a part-time, temporary nanny but the “potential employer” came back to me with a contract similar to the ones I imagine secret agents sign vouching total allegiance, perfectly cooked meals, laundered linen and appropriately entertained offsprings all for £6.50 an hour, after tax…
I came nowhere near finding what ministry I am supposed to get involved in, even if I volunteered in several places to work for free and get some experience. I have had countless chats with people who have teaching experience, life insight and spiritual wisdom. Inconclusive. In fact, the sky seems locked behind unbreakable glass doors and my sense of spiritual direction has seriously been going…akimbo.
On top of that, just to make my sense of failure complete I have been reacquainted with old high school colleagues who have “made it in life”, as the word goes. Appraised university lecturers, business owners, home owners. Aha, that sort of thing while I have “stay at home mum” and “odd teaching jobs” to account for myself. And no pressure there, hey, I am only 34, right, I have another 30-40 years to make it happen. Oh boy, who am I kidding???
So the question arises: what……on earth am I doing here?? Here as in my marriage: complete, childlike dependency comes to mind when I try to define our relationship. Here as in mothering: what sort of example am I setting for my little one, moping (figuratively) around all day. Here as in Northern Ireland: six years of odd employment and no hope of further makes me sour in the mouth just to think about it. Here as in spiritual journey, when I have no clue whether I am coming or going. Metaphorically speaking.
Thank you for stopping by at the “feel sorry for myself” clinic. Please feel free to return at a later date. No optimism guaranteed though.