Doves, Bacon and Staying the Course

Provocative titles can make the difference between whether someone wants to read a book, news story or blogpost. I was about to call this Doves, Onions and Staying the Course but if you read on, you will understand why bacon also came into my mind. Anything having to do with bacon may capture one’s attention! Not that this expression is particularly worthy of attention (it is my own musings) but hey, if I’m going to write about something in my world it might be nice to imagine I have a few interested readers!

BACON!

I could have also called this Signs, Confirmations and Staying the Course also, I suppose. This really is simply a musing about how we discern God’s specific will for us and how we struggle sometimes to know whether we are generally on the right course in some thing (and how we use various measures of success either rightly or wrongly in our discernments of God’s personal direction in our lives).

Before I share the two main stories, I should overview that embedded in these musings are also discerning our gifts, callings and God’s purposes in us.

The first story I want to share is one I experienced this evening. I had seen in the bulletin of a church I’ve recently started attending that they were looking for a part-time secretary for 7-10 hours per week. In initial chat with a member about what this might entail, it seemed that it was primarily a remote position and sounded potentially feasible for me. From time to time, I wonder whether God wants me to supplement what I’m doing here with something part-time and of a regular nature. I have considered this possibility in a number of ways, but repeatedly find the reality of the idea problematic in the trade-offs and impact to other things.

But, I do keep my eyes and ears open and felt some inclination to send a resume and find out more what this position actually involved and whether it would be a good fit not only for the church but for me. Tonight, I had an appointment to meet up for an interview and deeper conversation.

Here’s where the dove comes in.

I often seem to take notice of things–especially things in nature–that seem to serve as some sign to me. It’s not at all that I am seeking a sign, it’s just that these sightings coincide in an attention-grabbing way with my own internal thoughts, musings and prayers.

I was driving to this interview tonight and actually praying that God would make it clear whether this particular position was something I should consider, should it be offered. I was praying that both the interviewer and myself would have discernment, because I really don’t want to waste someone’s time or my own or get myself into something I’m not suited for and is not God’s will for me. (It’s not that I think God’s will is a rigid thing–He gives up many choices–I just think that some choices are more in line with His specific will and purpose in-and-for my life than other others. But, how to discern and listen for God’s voice in this is no exact science.)

As I was driving along–perhaps coming to or from a stop–I happened to glance down to my right at the side of the road and immediately spotted a bird (larger than little sparrows and such) walking along the edge of this highway and poking around at the ground. I recognized the bird as a dove, and of course something about it captured my thoughts!

What was a dove doing poking along that road’s edge?–the road leading to my destination–it just seemed really out of its element, though I’m no dove expert. I would not have taken particular note of a vulture foraging along the roadside or even a black crow or a free-ranging chicken! I’ve seen all of those, and more. But my immediate thought was, “that dove doesn’t belong there…it’s really out of its element.”

When I had first come to look at the property where I now live, back in 2020, I happened to spot a nest in the apple trees that had a dove in it. It really felt like a personal sign to me, in my own methods of trying to discern and decision-make. Not that there’s any rule of thumb about the who/what/where/when/why/how God communicates with us; I just took note of the nest with doves in it. And I’ve enjoyed seeing a lot of doves around here in the past 3+ years.

But, back to the dove I saw tonight. Since this spotting came within moments/minutes of my preparations of thought and prayers concerning the exploration of this particular position, and my immediate response to seeing this dove was “that bird is out of its element…” I really wondered to myself, “hmmm…is God speaking to me?”

My conclusion was, “Maybe…maybe not.” And, maybe I won’t know or need to think about this dove again until later.

As it went, I had an enjoyable conversation within the interview context, and pretty quickly as the duties were reviewed, it was clear that though most of it could be done remotely, some critical weekly duties needed to be done at the church building and at very specific weekly times. Because of the distance of this faith community from me, and the potential conflict with my regular unpredictable gig work and travel that often occurs on weekends (especially in the warmer months), it was just clear that this position was not something I could commit to. But I was glad I inquired, and in a sense, it reminded me that many such similar (yet different) opportunities for part-time work would have similar problematic issues.

(That’s not to say that at some point, I might actually find something that would not be problematic. There’s a truth that in many situations, there are no real solutions…only actions that create other types of problems.)

So yes, I do believe that dove was a sign to me. But, did I need the dove to come to this conclusion? Well, no, not really. But, seeing the dove did some deeper and different internal work within me, and actually feels like a comfort from God–a type of assurance that God sees me and God hears me–and, God is watching over me, guiding me step-by-step, daily.

I often ask Jesus, “OK…what am I supposed to be doing now? Like, right NOW?!” In this moment…or hour…or generally in some particular day or evening…

Because, I seem to be in a confluence of a life situation that is requiring immense trust and “a lot.” A situation filled with immense joy at seeing God use my gifts, callings and sustaining me with purpose that is also juxtapositioned with a great amount of uncertainty and seeming-lack, at times. I feel like I’m increasingly learning God’s sense of rhythm in this tango of my life here with Him! It’s both terrifying and exhilarating at times–especially when I get to experience some interesting thing like seeing that dove tonight.

It seemed to say to me, “Stay the course! Don’t go poking along some other highway…stay the course!”

It makes me even wonder…I wonder what surprise may come my way in the next day even, now that I seem to be being told some personal version of, “Wait…persevere…take things one day at a time…and trust…” Like the story of Jesus sleeping in the boat while the tempest raged, or showing up to Lazarus’ grave seemingly a bit too late…God keeps me on the edge of my seat these days. I think of Old Testament stories, and Psalms…almost at times like being in some lion’s den or fiery furnace…yet…yet…I am never harmed. Shook up and anxious and otherwise, perhaps…but, still cared for like the sparrows. Though I might feel dangled to the edge of harm, yet, I keep seeing God’s faithfulness to me at just the right moment.

It’s that dance/tango I need to get in better rhythm with…but…that’s another topic.

If you’ve made it this far, you might be scratching your head…BACON…you say…I thought I might smell eat or at least READ about…bacon…!

OK. I will end with another story that I thought of tonight after the interview and after my conclusions. It’s actually a funny story (or, I will make it funny!) but seems to have the same experiential message of: “Stay the course, Eileen…just stay the course! Don’t go a wandering down along some other unfamiliar highway right now…like that dove you saw tonight…”

So this story involves both bacon and onions, and it took place around late fall 2005 or maybe early part of 2006. My first divorce was final December 2005, and I was understandably in a variety of a lot of forms of immediate post-divorce trauma and stress. Among other things, I was fearful about how I would quickly increase my income and survive, and after talking to a friend thought maybe I should pursue a part-time job at least during my initial transition.

So, with that in mind, I literally went across the road from where we lived to a little, family-owned sandwich shop (known for its crab bisque soup) and asked if they might need any help. I explained my situation, and he said actually they could use help a few mornings a week with food prep before the store officially opened. (I think they were looking for lunch time help and had had a sign out, which was my initial inquiry.) I was to work from about 8 am to 10 or 11 am maybe several mornings a week, about 10 hours or so.

It initially seemed like a good situation since I literally could walk across the street and since I worked from home and had my sons, and was homeschooling, too; it seemed like a flexible and convenient supplement. Of course, I have never been a morning person and being somewhere by 8 am (and functional) was going to present a challenge, but, I was willing to plan for that.

Here’s where it gets funny (at least in my mind). The first morning I was to show up, my watch said it was around 7:57 am. I was literally walking out my door when I got a phone call asking where I was. I had done everything possible to order my life/schedule and other responsibilities (including need for proper sleep, and early morning commitments are sure to provoke insomnia in me…) to show up by 8:00 am.

I was oh so close to being there at 8 am on the dot…but maybe…my watch was off by a minute or two…I think, possibly…but anyway! I showed up (after a 45 second walk!) and learned that the very first thing I was to do was to fry up huge quantities of bacon. Yes, BACON. This was actually fun and aromatic…and the fried bacon would be ready not only for sandwiches but I learned that the crab bisque was made with amounts of bacon drippings–which gave it such a good, good flavor!

So, on about my 3rd morning there, I was also sent out to another area to chop onions and tomatoes. Here’s where I think it took a funny twist, and if only, I can articulate the scene to reflect the dark humor of the situation.

First of all, the 8 am gig-ness of it all was beginning already to have a negative effect on me, in the carrying out of my main responsibilities later in the day. It was exhausting for me. Also, I had never worked in the restaurant industry before (other than McDonald’s) and though I love to cook, I have my own method of chopping things and my own (God-given, ha ha) “pace.”

I remember I was trying to cut up as many onions as possible and I would carefully take the big knife and try to hold the onion still and carefully slice it. Without cutting my fingers. After doing the seemingly-tedious work of first “un-skinning” the thing! Then, after carefully slicing it in one direction, I would take the whole onion clump and rotate it, and dice it another direction. Or, something like that…

So that morning, it was getting close to sandwich-opening time and the owner came back from somewhere. He stood next to me, intently watching me cut this onion and maybe, just maybe, watching me start into the next one… I do recall I could feel his eye upon me…as though deeply scrutinizing/contemplating my onion-slicing skills!

At some point he said something to me. Something along the lines of: “You need to be much faster at that. Here’s the way to do it….” And then, he took what appeared to me a huge, sharp knife (not the little steak knives I used at home!) and took an onion and in what seemed like 7-10 rapid-fire, strong, decisive chops and maneuvers in what felt like 15 seconds…that made me feel the onion was flashing every which way before my very eyes…he finished, and then, handed me back the big knife.

I mean…I was 42 years old, ha ha, and had cut plenty of onions in my life.

I sort of looked at him, looked at the knife, looked at the onions and the tomatoes and the lettuce and the people and the sandwiches and the bacon (I smelled the bacon!) and…and…the beautifully lettered artsy price signs and…and…I felt myself in some kind of sweat or sense of a unique fear and panic of sorts…I must have smiled and been polite…but when I was finished my time I nervously went into his office and with huge apologies (he had gone to a lot of trouble with all my paperwork and such) told him, “I don’t think this is going to work out, and I’m really sorry.”

It was kind of awkward and I fully understood his frustration, but honestly, when I left and walked back home I felt a huge weight had lifted off of me.

This second story is kinda funny with the some similar thoughts to what I thought about tonight with the dove and the interview, but one main aspect of this sandwich shop story from 2005 was that ironically, between the time I sought to work there part-time and the few mornings I had worked there, I had suddenly got in an inflow of art/calligraphy work which made me wonder, “Now why am I wanting to go work at a sandwich shop instead of doing the work before me, and staying the course in seeking more of that which I am truly suited to and am already using my God-given gifts with?”