I believe in magic. I know this is illogical, but I see magic in how my garden grows from a seed to the ten pounds of tomatoes I pulled Sunday. I see magic in how flowers evolve to reproduce best, but that means becoming beautiful. I feel magic on the cool breeze after a summer storm and smell it in the way my dinner teases my nose before my lips.
Most of all there’s magic in timing, like how when we lost our last house in pretty crappy circumstances within two months (by chance we closed on Halloween) we found another house that was cheaper, we liked it more and it had these perfect little touches, like a dog house and a basket ball pole already in the yard.
A month or so ago I got a job at Burger King. I was very pessimistic about it because of what I saw on my interviews, but after being out of work for three months I needed something. At one of my two interviews I was sitting in the car because I’d gotten there way too early. I was reading when I saw movement. A giant flipping crow swooped over me. Then it landed on my sideview mirror and stared in the window at me. After the interview there was a butterfly resting on my windshield.
Freaking omens.
So I took the job. It was a complete disaster. My schedule was changed 4 times in the 3 shifts I worked. I was left alone on the drive thru for hours on my second day. I was told I didn’t get a break because I wasn’t a minor. On the day of the 4th shift I showed up, only to find the manager hadn’t shown up to open the store, so I drove 20 minutes across town, and had to hire a babysitter (because Jason was out of town) and couldn’t work.
I called to talk to my boss about it and was told it wasn’t his problem because he wasn’t supposed to be there that morning. Then, over the next four days I called a total of seven times trying to quit (I was out of town at that point, so going to the store in person was not an option. The next day I didn’t show up, because after all that I wasn’t going to show up and get yelled at, or be guilted into working anyway.
I have never, ever quit like that before. I’ve always finished out the schedule at the very least. But at that point I still hadn’t even gotten paid, and I was in debt over $100 for uniform shoes, gas and a baby sitter for a minimum wage job in fast food where I was just another box of supplies to be used up. (In the end I still lost $30 to that job.) But, I don’t get it because there were omens.
That experience made me so furious that I lit up the job application process again. A week later I’d had an interview and landed my current job at the U of L bookstore. It was a temp job, I knew, but my manager said all the employees had started as temps and there were also reoccurring temps who worked for them every three months or so. I hoped it would turn to something more regular.
Yesterday when I left work I turned the corner to where I’d parked and this was on my car:
It’s either an American Bittern or a juvenile Black-crowned Night Heron (I’m leaning toward the latter).
Today I was told that my boss can only guarantee me two more weeks of work. Also, I found out two of my friends lost their jobs, which did in one case, and probably will in the other case, end up with them losing their home too, since the home came with (or was related to) the job.
But when I started this blog, then stared out into space thinking of how I wanted to say something I saw a hummingbird hovering in my petunias outside my window.
Birds, in almost every single mythos, are messengers of some kind. They’re really strong symbols. So I think, again, I’m being send omens. But I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why I was sent positive omens about a job that was beyond crappy and dipped several times into illegally abusive. (Crows/ravens are positive omens in the Norse religion, which figures very prominently into my life.)
I don’t understand why I’m getting so many positive omens when I’d been flirting with the edge of depression again. When the only job that wants me long term wants to abuse me, and by the end of next month I’ll have lost a second wonderful job that I really love.
In some ways I’m amazingly lucky. I have a fantastic family. I have the best support network I’ve ever had in my life. I have friends who love me and truly care about me, just because I’m me. I have a partner who works hard to support me, emotionally and in my various careers. I’ve hit two of my major writing goals this year, including selling my first novel. I have two fantastic, smart, healthy kids who are conquering school one grade at a time. I have a house I love, a working car, and currently, at least, have more hours and thus more paychecks coming.
But we’re one big bill (with a few big bills coming up) from a downward slide into bad territory. My writing career has been rocked by the change in the publishing landscape. Jason’s job has cut benefits, cut hours and cut pay and there’s a shadow growing over his job security. How can I not worry? How can I not be overwhelmed?
How can I not wonder why I’m being given such clear, positive omens when my life feels so shaky? It’s so hard to have faith (but you can’t even picture a god to give that faith to) that your life will get better, when you feel like there’s a countdown hanging over your head.
But you can’t help it, because there’s a heron on your car in the middle of the city. And a bird you’ve only ever seen twice before in your life is peeking in your window at you. So instead you wish the smell of the lavender plant your husband ran over with the mower right after you planted it, that grew back could pay your overdue water bill and that you could pay this month’s car insurance bill with some of the salsa and pickles from your garden bounty, because you’re running out of room to put it all.
