Dear Pope Francis,
About a month ago, I made the decision to move back to Ontario over the Victoria Day weekend for a job I didn’t (and still don’t) know if I would get or not. Making the decision brought a sense of relief and sureness just from knowing what I was doing next, even though I had no idea if the whole plan would work or not.
Since then, it’s been a combination of excitement and trepidation about the move. I’m really excited to go home and to do whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing in the Toronto area. I don’t know if that job is what it is or not, but I feel the most sure about WHERE I’m supposed to be than I’ve felt about anything since I handed in my application for the journalism program four years ago.
I’m looking forward to being near family again, to reconnecting with old friends, and to making some new ones. I’m pumped that for the first time in our three years as friends Lauren and I are going to live in the same province AND within an hour of each other.
It’s also really nerve-wracking to be tying up all my loose ends in Fredericton. I leave in three weeks and haven’t found a sub-letter for my apartment. I’ve given notice at my jobs and started bringing home boxes at the end of every shift so in theory I can start packing. (Nothing is packed yet.)
I have a lot of friends here I want to make sure I see before I leave, and there’s a few I’m especially close with who I’m going to miss seeing every few days.
A lot of people have been asking me what I’ll do if I don’t get this job at my home parish, and frankly I have no sweet clue. Not having a backup plan is the scariest part about this. The only other time in my life I’ve not had a backup plan was when I applied for the journalism program. It was terrifying then, and it’s terrifying now.
Both times it feels like a crazy trust exercise. I know God’s going to catch me, but the edge of the cliff is shaped funny so I can’t see him at the bottom and I just have to jump.
But that was the plan. Move to Fredericton for a program I couldn’t be accepted to until I was done a year and a half of school and at no point feel good enough about another discipline to want to finish the degree if I didn’t get in.
In a stroke of genius or stupidity, I specifically asked my 16 year old sister to fly down to keep me company on the drive home. We haven’t kept in touch as much as my other siblings and my parents and I have, so I’m ensuring four days of bonding over heavy lifting and errands, at least 18 hours on the road with only each other for company, and a lot of meals in restaurants.
I’m feeling really good about my planning for getting from Fredericton to Toronto. But while I’m landing safe at home, it feels like I’ll be entering into a whole new kind of free-fall at the same time.
Please please please please please.