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Content Enable editor Use plain text Code entry On my last beach walk with God, I was having a pity party about being vilified at work for most of my work life, despite always getting rave reviews on my performance. I learned not to lean on other people about it because they understandably think I'm the problem since it keeps happening. I was especially hurting because I had confided this problem to my sister in Christ at GTM, Josie, and she took the other people's side (in my eyes). When she asked how I was doing, I said I was riding the leaf God gave me in the turbulent waters of living on the edge of being fired. I confided to Josie that Stephanie and Dale want me gone, and I see no sign of Lia vetoing that because Lia doesn't acknowledge me when she walks past me at the front desk, nor did her boss, Mike Shirley, and I don't know why. I admitted it might be a culture at GTM, since ranger Kala broke down in tears with me one day saying how "the culture here sucks" and "Candace doesn't even look at us when she walks by." Nevertheless, the people who decide if I have a job here make it clear they can't stand me and throw false accusations at me almost daily, which I have given up trying to correct because they throw out their accusations while walking away. With God, I have learned to be content with whatever he gives me, even if it means homelessness and starvation. It is certainly not my first response - that is always fear. But it doesn't take long for me to replace that fear with acceptance of God's will. What I have not mastered is the resentment toward the people trying to harm me. I hear Jesus admonishing me to love my enemies. In fact, I actually value the trial because it gives me a clear path obeying the Lord. Well, it's not so clear. I clearly hear, "Love your enemies." And I clearly answer, "Yes, but how?" I made the mistake of confiding this to Josie. Her answer was telling: "Do they have to be enemies?" She followed that up with a story showing a vulnerable side of Stephanie. Ever since that conversation, I've answered silently in my head, "Yes. An enemy is anyone who is trying to hurt you." That statement was repeating in my head over and over as I walked with God at Middle Beach. Yes, they are my enemies. But Lord, I have to accept that you love them and you want me to love them. But how? The resentment was visceral. I wanted the community to know what was happening. I wanted video and audio recording of every moment of my work life. But no, only I get to see the bad behavior that seeks to send me to the homeless shelter. The illogical butchering of truth was revolting. These were the feelings in my heart, but I didn't express them to God. I didn't want to. I didn't want him to tell me how to be nice to someone who doesn't deserve it. It didn't take long. I don't deserve His niceness. "My grace is sufficient for you," he said. "Full of grace and truth," he said. My deepest desire is to be like Jesus. Jesus is full of grace and truth. Those are THE definition of beautiful to me. Are not the classiest people on earth the ones who exhibit grace? What is grace, anyway? Western culture has hijacked the word to mean something so vain. Move without jerking. That's grace. My first husband called me Grace several times a week, every time I tripped or bumped something. I don't think John was referring to smooth moves when he said, "full of grace and truth." I looked it up. John's use of the word grace means undeserved merit. GRACE = UNDESERVED MERIT It took me about a year to recite that in my head. I want to be graceful. I am eternally grateful for God accepting me into his kingdom when I ABSOLUTELY do not qualify. I am an undeserving recipient of forgiveness, unconditional love, an eternal outlook, abundant health, and abundant material provision. I am not worthy. When I set a picture of my behavior alongside a picture of Jesus' behavior, I am hopeless. All I can do is hope that His offer of grace is true. "Full of grace and truth," John said. If I don't have that hope, I have no life at all. All these thoughts floated through my head, but the only thing that formulated into words was, "Yes, but how?" GRACE = UNDESERVED MERIT Again, he said it to me. Not audibly. Just clear words that stood up tall against the whirlpool of thoughts and emotion. GRACE = UNDESERVED MERIT I knew it was God. But just to be sure, I looked down to see if it was confirmed with a shark tooth. It was. Yes sir. I must give undeserved merit to those who are trying to demerit me. What on God's green earth could possibly construe that as truth? God can. "For nothing shall be impossible with God" (Luke 1:37). It felt impossible to me. But I had faith in my Lord. I had faith that my own undeserved merit would merit me with the next answer. I went home and waited for it. It started in two days. My beach walk and shark tooth happened on Wednesday. On Friday, I was presented again with that daily reminder to come up with a new password for my work login. I use bible verses for that task. It allows me to 'meditate' on a verse for the next three months by typing it every time my computer times out. But I've received this warning for two weeks and still couldn't decide on a verse. As I sat frustrated with indecision on Friday morning, these words came to my mind. "Ask Stephanie." That could not have been me. I've been counting the minutes till Stephanie would be retired and out my life, or at least out of the position to eliminate my job. Ask that 'enemy' for a bible verse? Say what? Yes sir. "Stephanie, I have the most random question. You know how I use bible verses for passwords? I've been stumped for two weeks now trying to pick one. Do you have a bible verse that you like that I can use? I know this is completely out of place. Just say no if you don't want to." "Yes," she said. "I have a few of them I like. I'll have to think of them. I'll get back to you on that." Thirty minutes later, she handed me a piece of paper with three verses. I looked at them, got excited about them, and thanked her profusely. The first one was my first choice. "For nothing will be impossible with God" (Luke 1:37). The song Unstoppable God popped in my head, the chorus repeating, "Nothing shall be impossible, your kingdom reigns unstoppable..." My heart bounced with the memory of bouncing to that song at Celebration Church, and in my car, and in my condo, where I learned to reverse bounce so as not to disturb my downstairs neighbor. I told Stephanie I'll be singing that song for three months. She smiled. Was my enemy now my friend? Absolutely not. Was she my sibling under God. Absolutely. She just proved it. Did she deserve merit for that? Yes. Did I have to butcher truth to give her merit? No. It was all on the up and up. I happily gave merit for that with no obligation to merit her employer skills or integrity. I couldn't find what aspect of my computer life was asking for a password. I couldn't find any sign of it in the Windows Notifications panel located right where the prompt pops up. The Windows Settings password referred to it as 'domain password'. Domain? I waited till the prompt appeared again, then found myself at the 'domain password' screen. I put my creative spin on the verse till it made me grin at my own cleverness. Norton Password Manager high-fived me by estimating the time it would take to crack that password being "the age of the universe." I pulled up a YouTube video of Elevation Worship singing Unstoppable God, then carried my phone around the empty exhibit hall to let the empty building worship with me. I bounced as I walked, just as I did at Celebration Church. I went back to my desk and texted a thank you to Stephanie, and added a link to the song. Then the REAL test happened. I pulled up my task list. Time to build tomorrow's welcome screen. I looked at the calendar for the next day, which was Tuesday because this was Saturday. The only thing on the calendar was the Education team hosting a class from Nease High School for saltmarsh seining. The teacher was Jennie Fagan. Jennie Fagan. An old enemy. One who actually did block my employment. When I first started working at GTM, Josie heard me say I taught for one year at Nease High School. She asked if I knew Jennie Fagan, who was a great teacher who interacted with the reserve a lot. Yes, I knew Jennie Fagan. I did not tell her what happened with Jennie Fagan. I just smiled like I agreed that Jennie Fagan was a great person and a great teacher. Now I might see her again. Josie might try to reconnect us. Josie will expect me to be delighted and want to work with Jennie. Josie doesn't know what happened. Josie didn't know what Dale and Stephanie were doing to me, either. She actually suggested I check my facial expressions. She told a story about her mother hurting a cashier's feelings with angry body language that had nothing at all to do with the cashier. Josie seemed to think I was the problem, and that I was imagining enemies, like someone with a victim mentality, which my gaslighting ex-husband accused me of. Lord, I don't want to be here. I want to be with you, where truth reigns. This world is lies lies and more lies. Take me home where I belong. Jennie Fagan's words rang in my head from my one and only lunch period in the teacher's lounge. "The black kids are the best athletes because they grow up running from the po po." She was nicer to me at first. "We're going to groom you into a science teacher. If we like you, we'll keep you." I cannot remember a single time Jennie observed my performance as a teacher, nor did I notice any grooming. Instead, I got barked at by two of the teachers I was assigned to assist. One of those teachers, Summer Anderson, barked every single day at her classes. "Shut up and grow up!" rings through my head to this day, a decade later, and I'm sure in the memories of the students she aimed it at. I can only assume these teachers were Jennie's eyes and ears, and the reason she never engaged with me about "grooming", and did not renew my contract. That's another one I had to give to God. I can't live with the belief that humans can decide whether I have a job even when I earn high scores and accolades from my students and constituents. So that po-po comment was my ammunition. The one thing I could hold onto that Jennie Fagan's judgment of me could not be trusted. Might Jennie remember me in front of Josie? Might she discredit me? Might I bring in my high performance scores and the notes of praise and appreciation from students and their parents? Might I try to discredit the person trying to discredit me? Might I just run away from this planet as soon as Elon Musk finds a way to unlock the gravitational chains? GRACE - UNDESERVED MERIT Yes sir. But how? Jennie will be here on Tuesday. Maybe she won't even come in the building, since seining is an outside activity. But if I were still a teacher, I would not miss a chance to expose my students to the exhibit hall. What will my countenance be? Fake? Awkward? Confused? Stoic? Now is my test. Now is my chance. Now is my opportunity to exercise actual grace. But how? I'm listening, Lord. I'm listening.

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