The following experience has been on my mind a lot and is going to come up in some future posts (I think), so I'm going to share it now so you'll have it for context.
In 2005 I graduated from BYU and moved to Arkansas. A month before graduation I still thought I was going to law school that fall. But then I decided to defer for a year and move to be near my family.. How that happened is another story, for another time; but it put me in the position of needing to look for a job.
I had been assured over and over again that I would have no problem getting a job at a bank or school or something else nice in Northwest Arkansas, because I was bi-lingual. But it didn't exactly go down like I'd expected. For one thing I didn't know what I wanted; for another I didn't know a lot about job searching; and for another I was only going to be there a year and was honest about that.
I looked for jobs during the few weeks before I went to El Salvador (a preplanned trip when I still thought I would just be hanging out for the summer). But I was leaving for a month+, so not super productive. Then I came back to town, first week of July.
On day 2 or 3 of being home, my mother's visiting teachee (Sister Titsworth) called to see if I wanted a temporary job at her husband's factory. President Titsworth was the stake president who released me as a missionary two years before; plus Sis. T and Mother were good friends so I knew them fairly well.
The job required me to sew. Sister T needed to go to Girls Camp, but they were busy so needed someone in the spot where she sometimes filled in. So it was available for a few weeks. They knew I was looking for another job. With all that understood, I said yes and started working a day or two later.
What a job! The company was a small assembly line that made upholstery samplers for furniture stores. My part of the assembly was to sew swatches of fabric to the cardboard that had all the information about it. I sat at a machine (an industrial one--love the speed!) and sewed for 8 hours a day. Just sewed straight lines. Unless the machine broke or something. It was the most mind-numbing thing I think I've ever done. I sang songs, sometimes yelled over the machines to the other women there, and mostly just tried hard not to think about how bored I was. Mind numbing, I tell you. (I'm sure it was worse because I'd just come from college and MTC teaching--very stimulating.) It also killed my neck and back. I wondered how the others could stand this (especially since they'd done it for years, even decades). After a few weeks, I realized their bodies had adjusted long ago and they didn't feel that.
I appreciated the opportunity to see how others live life. A large chunk of Americans work, or worked, in jobs like that and I knew nothing about it (remember my father was a farmer, then teacher--so while not a fancy professional, also not a shift worker). I'll be forever grateful I learned. 8-4:30, M-F, assembly line, minimum wage, half hour lunch, driving 45 minutes each way. Grateful to have a job. It really was a special experience to me because of being able to understand others better.
More, it was the Lord's way of taking care of me. The job was supposed to last 10-14 days. It lasted about 12 weeks--long enough for me to pay off some minor loans I owed, to take care of myself (while living at home), and to save up enough money so that when I finally got the right job I could move there without using loans. The timing of the job is still incredible to me. And Pres. T. was so wonderful and helpful. And I made some other dear friends.
Even as it un-folded I could see the tender mercies of the Lord playing out in my life. It was a hard time, but a good time.
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