"Work"

God has been so evidently faithful in the past few weeks. My fingers are so excited to tell that they are moving faster than my brain at the moment. Or maybe that's just a sugar high from the brownie, ice cream, more brownie, okay, more cookie dough ice cream goodness that just took place in my mouth.

Anyways, God's goodness.

I've been working at the Tanglewilde "Recreation Center" (aka a pool with two diving boards, plastic lawn chairs, and locker rooms that resemble a barn) for a little over two weeks now. From the synopsis above, one could assume that work was well...work. Act of God's sheer grace #1: I absolutely relish the four hours I spend daily here. From the beginning of the summer and returning home from school, I was set on working at the Valley Athletic Club. I've been a member since I was a tiny tot. I'm there on the reg. I know the community. I'd be paid generously. However, this door, as well as those of the Olympia Country Club and YMCA, were rather swiftly slammed in my face. Well, not really. They all either announced that they were done hiring or they just didn't return calls. We all could use a good dose of this kind of rejection; I know my working girl pride was quickly diminished.

However, after stumbling upon (no, not literally, or through the website) an application for Tanglewilde, quickly coming in contact with the supervisor, and hearing positive recommendations from employees/friends, BAM! I was a hired woman. Like I said, I've been working for two weeks, about 4 hours a day, and I couldn't be more satisfied. Basically, I'm paid to sit up on the guard stand for 15 minute intervals, to be relieved by another lifeguard for a "break" of 45 minutes. We have one guard per 25 patrons, so on warm (er) days, I might be on the stand for 30 minutes at a time. The extent of my "job" is to yell at that kid who's sitting on his brother, testing too deep of waters, or doing 790's off the diving board. The one save I've made so far this season: successfully retrieved a plastic table and umbrella that were blown into the deep end. Gotta love Washington. Oh, and yesterday I was tipped a soaking wet dollar by some sweetie in a life vest. Today? A competition between about five high school boys to see who could get me wet up on the stand from the diving boards. And I quote, "What happens if I splash you? What happens if I drowned, will you come save me?" And I respond, "What happens if I kick you out of the pool?"

And then there's the half an hour off that I get to sit in the break room, get to know my superb co-workers, and get...fat. There's constantly pizza, cupcakes, milkshakes, burritos, fries, and the like overwhelming our small picnic table. The majority of the lifeguards are junior, senior, or recently-graduated high school males. Their...uh...vivid...imaginations support the rest of our break times: framing Sweet Maui Onion chip bags, faking a drowning to the guard on the stand, or designing eating contests with left-over birthday party food. And when I say there's never a boring moment, I mean, there's really never a boring moment. So, even amidst the chaos, I thank God that He made my last option, well, my only option. And, as it turns out, what has been the best of times.

Maybe you recall from previous posts that I was him hawing, sitting on the fence, biting my nails, and losing sleep over where I was going to be in the fall. Act of God's sheer grace #2: I'm gonna head back down to Point Loma and give it another shot. Most people that I have brought this situation up with have been like, "I thought you loved it? I didn't know anything was changing..." I just want to clear the air: I do adore Loma. I have a lot of fantastic memories, and people, awaiting me there. However, like most adjustments, it wasn't all daisies and chocolate chip cookies. I contemplated my "other options." Schemed about returning for two weeks, throwing up the deuces, and getting a full tuition refund. God clearly had plans dissimilar to my own though (shocker, huh?).

A much too long and frustrating story short, housing on campus this year has been made minimal and I was put on the sixth floor of the freshman dorm that I lived on the fifth floor of this year. Now, to anyone that is/has been a Sea Lion (uhhh...awkward), this is almost unheard of. Sophomores are moved to the nicer dorms, with the ocean views and 21st century furnishings and kitchens and open dorms hours and and and....everything that the freshman covet. So, when the room numbers 617 were glaring at me from my portal,  I wasn't the happiest of campers. Actually, and literally, I figured camping out on the cliffs might be even better at this point. But...the Lord clearly didn't give that the okay. Are you ready for this? The two most fabulous, Christ-like, gracious young ladies that I had the privilege of calling my two closest friends this past year (and also each other's roommates) are living...wait...oh yeah, NEXT DOOR. When you think about the hundreds upon hundreds that make up the female population at my school, you don't really expect really really great friends to be, at complete random, placed as next door neighbors. Praise God that we were both stuck in this undesirable situation, and yet, He chose to stick us together. I can't wait to grow and live and laugh with these ladies for another entire year.

Not once, but twice, the crumbs and the backwash of my plans God has flourished into a beautiful spectacle of His mighty hand in my life. I'm so in awe that this is my life, currently, and what I have to share with you.