There He Was

"Are you there, God? It's me..." I clasp my hands together as I look at the brown female and red male cardinal on the balcony. I hadn’t seen cardinals in a very long time. “I’m sorry for always asking this, but I feel you’ve abandoned me. I feel you’ve woken up one day and said, ‘I don’t need to help Greta anymore.’ I’m drowning, God…I’m drowning in debt, I’m drowning in sorrow. I don’t know how to handle anything anymore.”

I pause. The ache in my chest is catastrophic. I don’t know how to express exactly what I want in this prayer. “You always say to trust, but I haven’t heard from you. How can I trust what I don’t hear….”

The cardinals both chirp and then turn their heads to the side. Their dark eyes stare at me as if they are trying to tell me something. I have always heard that cardinals are a way for God to tell us our loved ones are okay. But I don’t know anymore.

I turn my back on them. I walk back into the house, the feeling of defeat overwhelming. It’s weird that I was so happy just a few days ago, but now despair is all I know.

A few days ago I thought I had all the answers.

For a few days I thought I was doing what God intended for me to do.

But I was wrong.

Oh so wrong.

What caused the doubts to resurface? Well, it was when my job decided to release me of my duties. They told me that it was them, not me. The word downsizing kept coming up. They didn’t hesitate to speak about it not being about me..

It was nothing personal.

Just unfortunate.

I had an inkling of what was coming. The hints were vague at first. It then became more and more prominent as HR started shifting from alleviating our fears that it wasn’t going to be our department to handing out notices like candy. Mrs. Marks, the Human Resources Director, personally handed me my notice with a wicked smile. Mrs. Marks never truly liked me, even if I never did anything to her. We never had any interaction except maybe a few talks about paystubs and insurance purposes.

While I did get some severance pay, it was only for a week of work. One measly week that could barely pay rent and utilities. I should be grateful, but my insides are squirming. I don’t know what else to do. I live alone. My parents live several states away. And my dreams of becoming a prominent game developer have slipped through my fingers like water in cupped hands.

I moved out of the small town in my state of Ohio to California to pursue higher learning in art and game developments. It also held more job opportunities. Los Angeles was a sprawling city of diverse people, cultures, and modern architecture. What did me in when I first came here was the cool hang out spots. They truly sucked me in.

Up until recently, that is. This shifts something in me. I can’t explain how I feel. It’s a plethora of strange emotions that buzz around my head.

I know it’s sadness, anger, and confusion mixed into each other. No matter how many times I try to decipher my emotions, I hit a brick wall.

My mom always has told me to write my feelings down, pray over them, and put them toward the throne of the Most High. This time, numbness settles in my gut.

I sit on my mismatched couch. Looking around my small studio apartment, I can’t help but let a few tears well up and fall down my cheeks. What will I do? How can I call my parents and tell them that I was let go from my job. A job I had for two years. I am sure that they would be upset, but would encourage me to come home.

“You can come home, Greta,” my mom would say, a little too eagerly. “We never converted your room. It’s still the same as you left it. Your sister would love to have you at her house as well. She could have some help with her children.”

“You don’t have to stay there forever, Grets. I would love to have my fishing buddy back. Jackson would love for you to come home too. Poor doggie misses you.”

As much as I love my parents and sister, I couldn't do that. As much as I missed our family dog, I don’t have the motivation to go back to the same old life I left behind.

My calling was to do game development. Ohio can’t give me the breakthrough Los Angeles can give. My fear is that I won’t be able to find another job.

I could apply for unemployment for the time being. I could get on food stamps, but I don’t want to. I feel so embarrassed thinking about that. Too many other people need it more than I do. Especially those with children. I shift on my couch, pulling the worn quilt my grandmother made before she passed around my body. I stretched my legs out and hit something hard. Hissing as my toe throbs, I sit up and gaze at what I hit. I didn’t remember I had put my lockbox on the couch. In fact, I don’t remember why I even took it from its hiding place. I must have put it down in a hurry this morning before I left for work.

But why?

I didn’t know the answer, but I have this inkling I have to open it. I stand, throwing the quilt back on the sofa. I stretch out to take the keys from the bowl that I unceremoniously threw the keys into after coming home. Something has me hyper focused on the lockbox, as if my future depends on it.

Upon opening, the contents fall out. I curse a little under my breath. The lockbox is upside down. Silly me. I should pay more attention.

While I pick up the contents: passports, past ids, past documents of W2s and other paraphernalia and something catches my eye. A pamphlet of sorts.

It is a current pamphlet of one of my friends who decided to build her own company from scratch. My eyes go wide. Katie McClide gave me this pamphlet just last week, before this catastrophe hit my life like a sword in the gut. I flip the pamphlet over and see something scribbled I didn’t see before.

Hey girl! Just to let you know, if you want to come work for me! Just call me! We could use your talent! I heard that the company was downsizing (SHOCKER! NOT!) and so if you ever need a job, just let you know, you’re more than welcome to come aboard. Just let me know! Love ya girl!

I hear a shuffle near my balcony and the cardinals are looking at me, pecking at the glass. I open the glass sliding door and the wind blows. The two cardinals launch away as I gasp. The pamphlet falls and almost flies away until I stomp on it. Urgency hits me as I stare at the time on the clock on the wall over the stove. It was just turning six in the afternoon.

I grab my phone in my pocket and dial Katie’s number. Two rings and she answers.

“GIrl! I’ve just been thinking about you!” Her voice is cheery and it calms my spirit. “Did you finally see the pamphlet?”

I look at the phone in shock.

“How did you know I was calling for that?” I ask with caution.

“I had it in my heart that you were going to call. God doesn’t make mistakes.” Katie said with a giggle. “So are you going to join us? We’ve gotten a really good team of excellent developers and we may have someone interested in a game we’re developing. We could use your expertise!”

I gulp and then nod. Remembering she couldn’t see me, I push my weariness down and say, “Sure. I would love that.”

“Great! You can start Monday! We’ll get all the paperwork together.” She sighs happily. “Ain’t Jesus grand! See what He can do when it feels like everything is impossible.”

I smile but don’t answer, just let the shock wear off and slowly start to get my sanity back. “Thank you, Katie.”

“No need to thank me. I know you’re such a good friend and developer, you were the top of our class! But Jesus is the reason why this is happening. I give thanks to Him for suggesting and planning this awesome turn of events!”

She is a very exuberant girl who loves games and Jesus. Something I wish I could be as passionate as she is about her work and faith. I always was Doubting Thomas for some reason. But this–this only had to be an act of God…

We stay on the phone for a little longer and say our goodbyes before hanging up. I put my phone on the table, walk outside and stare out into the cloudy sky. The lights from the city distort the gray hues of the dying sun. I lean against the railings, gripping them with my fingers.

The cardinals fly around before perching once again on the balcony. They are so close, but I dare not touch them. Soon, they’re off again into the leftover sunrays.

The wind picks up again, this time harder. It's as if to say, “See, my daughter, I heard you.”

I started the day with doubts of my future, now I am certain it will turn out brighter than I ever will expect.