And not only that, people. A not-teaching, totally full-time job.
Mother’s Day came early for me this year. I was offered—and accepted—an editorial job that seemed to fall out of the sky from happy little faeries. (I’m telling you: mention the faeries, good things happen. Hi faeries!)
It’s the kind of job everybody dreams of. Great people, great work, a window with a kind of view. (Even if you have to get up from your desk to see it.) An opportunity to be creative and use your talents. A million great restaurants, the vibrant city scene, just seconds away.
But I didn’t do it alone, blog readers. (Though I was the one sitting alone at the end of a long glass table last Thursday. Luckily, it was more like The Quakerly Apprentice and not the Donald-Trump-bad-combover-Apprentice, so I didn’t tremble too much.) If it weren’t for your devoted readership and encouragement about this blog over the last two years, it’s possible I’d be wandering aimlessly through my house right now, putting off laundry and dishes instead of heading into the city each morning, sipping coffee at my cozy desk in my very own office. (An f-word seems in order. Is it “fabulous” or “fantastic”?)
Now, you see, I have good reason to put off my laundry.
A job. As an editor. At Friends Journal, a monthly magazine about Quakers, who you may not know are some of the quoolest people in the world.
It meant a lot to hear that the writing on this blog mattered—not only as a small enjoyment to subscribers and devotees, family and friends—but as an example of what I am capable of on a personal and professional level. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m proud of this blog. I’m proud of it because it comes from my heart, because the title “An Attitude Adjustment” has really helped me improve my attitude over the past two years, and—dammit!—it shows off what I can do. (Are you catching these em-dashes? Very ubiquitous lately. I’m practically Emily Dickinson.)
And don’t you worry. I already asked. The Quakers won’t fire me for saying “dammit.”
So thank you for reading and sharing in my joy—and, to use a Quaker phrase—holding me in the light. You may not have realized you were doing that light-holding business, but by being here, you definitely are.
Stay tuned for what promises to be an exciting and inspiring journey. (And, no doubt, a tiring one. Once I come down from this high and am able to sleep again, I may be more than a little tired.)
(Really! I mean it!)