Whole World in His Hands

     For those 2 months following Pentecost weekend, we prayed fervently only that God’s will be done.  Never once did we ask God to give him the job.  Never once did we pray that he would NOT get the job.  We just simply prayed that whichever road would glorify God, whichever road would lead us, our children and those we came into contact with to Christ…that God would remove all obstacles in THAT path.  During those 2 months, I went to adoration in front of the Blessed Sacrament at least once a week.  I would gaze at the Body of Christ in the beautiful monstrance, and pray over and over again, “Lord, thy will be done.”  My own trembling Fiat. 

A few days before the interview, as I was standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast, Don said to me “I really don’t think I’m gonna make it.  I give myself maybe a 10% chance.”  Feeling a twinge of disappointment at the possibility of losing our chance to travel the world, coupled simultaneously with relief at the possibility of being able to remain in my safe bubble, I shrugged.  “If God wants this for us, you’ll pass.  If He wants us to stay here, you won’t.”  After reading the description of what he had to do in the interview, I knew he was right about the 10% chance.  It was a grueling process.  First he would have to write a timed essay on the spot, THEN sit through an oral panel, where he would be grilled on what choices he would make during crazy hypothetical scenarios—what would he do if the leader of an African tribe wanted to present the ambassador with a ceremonial dagger as a gift?  Allow the dangerous dagger near the ambassador or refuse to allow it and risk damaging diplomatic relations with the African tribe?  Ummm, yeah, I would’ve failed.  If he failed any portion of the day, say for example the essay, he wouldn’t even be allowed to attempt the oral board.  You had to pass each piece to progress.  If this path was NOT God’s will for us, it sure would be easy for Him to shut that door.

     The day before Don was to make the 6 hour drive to Atlanta, where the interview would take place, I went to adoration again, intending to spend an hour with Jesus, yet again placing this interview in His hands.  As I pulled into the parking of St. Dominic Catholic Church, a certain song came on the radio.  The refrain of this particular song is “Everything will be alright.  He’s got the whole world in His hands, the whole world’s in His hands.”  I sat in the parking lot for a couple extra minutes, letting the song echo through my empty minivan, tears flowing down my cheeks.  In that moment, I felt that I knew what the outcome was going to be.  10% chance or no, God was indeed leading us down this path, and no matter where we ended up, everything would be alright.  The whole world is in His hands.  Still, I went into adoration and continued to pray only that God’s will be done.

    Don drove to Atlanta.  The day of the interview, I took our three kids to play at a water park, desperate to keep busy and keep my mind off what was happening.  Soon after we got home, I got the call from Don. 

By the grace of God, he had done it. 

He had accomplished what 99% of the tens of thousands of applicants to this job are never able to do. He had received a conditional job offer from the U.S State Department following the interview, conditional upon him also obtaining a top secret security clearance, medical clearance, and passing a physical readiness test.  After talking with him a few minutes in stunned disbelief, I put my 2 year old down for a nap, sat my 4 year old and 6 year old in front of a movie, and hid in my room to try and process the news.  I stared at a beautiful piece of artwork hung on my wall that my talented sister had made for me, a scene of cliffs with powerful ocean waves beating against their base, and the Bible verse “Be still and know that I am God” written in intricate calligraphy over it.  I took a few moments to be still, to revel in the fact that the Creator of the entire universe willed this for our little family, and prayed a Rosary in thanksgiving for the graces he had given us that had brought us this far. 

     Over the next few months, my prayer changed from “Thy will be done” to “Change my heart, Lord.  Give me the strength to follow this will, to accept the hardships and changes coming my way with peace and joy.”  At that time, I was 8 months pregnant with our 4th child. I knew Don would be leaving sometime in the next few months for at least 7 months of training, and I would be raising our children alone. Here I was, yet again, about to deliver another baby while also facing massive life changes.

I attended a women’s retreat at St. Dominic Catholic church in August, just over a month after Don received the conditional job offer.  I couldn’t believe it when one of the talks at the retreat was entirely on Luke 1:26-38, the part of the gospel where the angel Gabriel appears to Mary to announce to her that the Holy Spirit would overshadow her, that she would conceive and bear the Son of God.  The exact verses in the Bible in which Mary utters the words “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.  May it be done to me according to your word.”  (Luke 1:38).  Her Fiat.  The exact same concept God had been gently trying to get me to understand during the hurricane, the same words I had been meditating on over the last few months.  I smiled at the persistence of our Father…whether through the words of a nurse in a Chicago hospital or the words of a priest at a women’s retreat in Florida, He never ceased to find ways to remind me of who I was, and what I was created to do.  I was a handmaiden of the Lord, and I was called to proclaim an unconditional, unwavering, complete and total “yes” to His will for my life. 

     Blessed Carlo Acutis, an Italian teenage boy with an immense love for the Eucharist who is currently in the process of being canonized a saint, once said “The more Eucharist we receive, the more we will become like Jesus.”  Over the next few months, I tried to go to daily Mass several times a week.  I knew that in order to face the hardships coming my way, I had to receive Jesus as much as I could, so that in becoming more like Him, I could learn to accept suffering as He did.  At daily Mass one day, as the priest held high the Eucharist and proclaimed “This is my Body, given up for you.  Do this in remembrance of me”, my eyes wandered to the crucifix above the altar, and the meaning of these words suddenly struck me in a whole new way.  Yes, we are literally called to “do this in remembrance of Him”, meaning participate in the sacrifice of the Mass, but we are called to do THIS in remembrance of Him—to offer ourselves as sacrifices on the crosses that our daily lives bring us.  I came to realize that every time I attempted to run from one of the crosses in my life, I was rejecting Him.  It was as if I was saying “I can’t, I WON’T help you carry it Jesus.”  Running from my crosses was, at its core, a failure to love.  Dear Jesus, give me the grace to love you.  Though the outpouring of all my love will be but a speck of dust compared to the mountain of your love for me, help me Jesus.  Help me to take up my cross, and in so doing, help you to carry yours.

At daily Mass, a couple months after our sweet Isabel joined the family.