I never, EVER thought I'd end up in this job. Never EVER. And in less than a year after the worst heartache/beautiful moments of my life? Nuh uh. Not me. Please, Lord, not me. Send me anywhere else.
But where did He send me?
A nursing home. Better known as the SNF (pronounced "sniff" by those in the know). Three weeks after moving to Florida, I was offered a position at a nursing home. But, as fate would have it, that would be my only job offer. It's a very long commute for only part-time hours, but in the few weeks I've been working, I've learned so much. I've learned that I am, indeed, a social worker. I've learned I love being around the elderly. I've learned to separate my personal heartache of loss and grief from the life and spirit still vibrantly shining from my patients. They have taught me so much just by living their everyday routines.
By far the best part of this job is the undercurrent of faith. By no means is religion or spirituality at the forefront of my vocabulary, but it is also not discouraged. How does the Lord do it? How does He place me in the one Christian company for 50 miles that was hiring social workers? Call it divinity... I call it grace. I work in a place where it is common for my boss to pray with nurses; for emails to be echoing praise to the Lord for a blessing; for Catholic priests, Protestant ministers, and volunteers from churches to be wandering the hallways day in and day out. Even the music activities leader oozes love and faith and devotion to the staff and to our patients! My work in the field of social work is my ministry. It is how I show God's love to others - by listening, by helping, by striving to make a change... all without usually ever speaking the Lord's name. It is a small job, but it is my ministry right now. I listened, followed, and found blessing beyond my imagination.
I am blessed. I have been humbled. I am healing.
All this and a paycheck, too? Yes, Lord, send me. Here I am. Send me.