Ever since we returned from Europe, my top priority each day has been job-hunting. Always one to want to identify with and fit in to my community, I’ve decided to join the 10% actively attempting to change their employment status from “un” to hired. No longer is that accomplished by pounding the pavement. Every application I’ve encountered is only accepted on-line, with an attached downloaded cover letter, resume, transcript, and three letters of recommendation. While I’ve written stunning cover letters, I’m hoping for an opportunity to meet an interviewer in person. I think that may be my best shot.

Beginning next week, a church in our town is offering a free job club (a brilliant plan to minister to the community in a practical way). Attendees will learn job-seeking skills and – here’s the reason I’m going – have an opportunity to network. Since 80% of the jobs in our area are not posted, it seems that who you know may be more important that those stellar cover letters. And being new, I don’t know so many people yet.

So far, I’ve submitted six applications. Out of those, there is only one job which I would love to have. The others . . . well, in these tough times, I may just have to accept whatever I’m offered, but they wouldn’t be my top choice. That’s a hard thing for someone who majored in art to deal with. When I attended college in the 1970s, my idea of a career had more to do with personal expression than accruing financial gain. There’s nothing I can think of that I could have done that would have been more fulfilling than the career I had with Campus Crusade. What can possibly top making an eternal impact for Christ in the lives of individuals and whole nations? Anything since then has just been a job.

Since our move, I’ve tried freelance writing, and while it provides some spending money from time to time, it’s not steady enough for medical insurance. It’s also challenging to convince people that I’m actually working when I write at home. I decided to consider my writing as my ministry and not my job. But when the two merge, and sometimes they do, it can be wonderful.