Thursday, May 7, 2009

Work, work, work. Wait--what?

After 33 years as a stay at home mom, I find myself working and living the life of a career woman purely by accident. How? I wonder myself. It can only be by divine intervention that I am given this opportunity.

Not quite two weeks ago, I went in for an interview to be a stringer for a new newspaper coming to my town. The man who called me wasn’t the man who interviewed me. I was told that I didn’t need to bring any clips to the interview but I could if I wanted. I brought two.

The interviewer glanced at them briefly and asked if I’d be the Managing Editor. I about fell onto the floor. I am a writer, yes, but I haven’t ever worked an 8 to 5 job—never aspired to the newspaper world. My husband asked me a year ago why I didn’t apply for a job at the local paper. I told him it was because I had no interest in writing about wrecks on the highway or drug busts in remote locations.

The first few days of my job, I cried every morning when I woke up being careful not to let my husband see, then I’d cry a little at night before bed. To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement. I keep wondering why. Why am I being given this opportunity? The reasons that come to mind scare me. I feel as though I’m being prepared and strengthened for a task I’m currently unaware of. And I have to ask myself, why does the Lord have so much faith in me?

Learning as I go, I’ve started feeling just a little better. We got the first paper to the publisher and lived through the ordeal. I was happy—until I saw our competitor’s paper. They were all better than me and I knew it. But, this was my first effort, I told myself, and I can be proud of that accomplishment. After all, until this week I didn’t even fully know the responsibilities of a managing editor. I’m still learning that, too.

So, this is my second paper. It’s interesting stuff. I find myself comfortable at work. I’m still not totally happy with working until 5pm, but I enjoy writing and I’ve started hoping that they don’t want to find someone better—someone who actually knows what’s going on to be their managing editor.

Today I wrote about a crazy inmate at the hospital who was trying to escape and was threatening everyone. Then I followed the police scanner to an accident. The driver apparently had a seizure and drove into a building. Shaking in my boots, I got out of my car to take a picture and talk to someone. No one wanted to talk to me, and my camera was dead. I called the office and was told to take a picture with my company phone. I don’t know how to use a camera phone, so they had to get in their car and come take pictures for me.

It’s a sad, sad story I know, and I just have to shake my head, smile and move on. I pray for strength—this job is bigger than me.

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