One at a time

One breath at a time, one stitch at a time.

This weekend is an SCA event that Tim and I (and possibly Ray) are going to. Tim only has one nice tunic, and it's wool; not unreasonably, he wants a nice linen one, too. So far he's done most of the work on it -- working from the old tunic, he made a pattern for the new, cut it out (with very little waste of fabric), and sewed the main seams (on a machine, which I couldn't help him with). All I've done this week is to finish the cuffs and hem by hand. Today, I'm sewing a length of pretty handwoven trim around the neckline.

One stitch at a time.

I'm using it as a meditation of sorts, and also as something to focus on that isn't the rest of my life. More and more people have posted in support of me, here and in their own blogs, and now, I hear, on the RevGals blog itself. Even there, I see people speaking in support, and people saying nothing. Nobody has spoken a word against me where I can see it.

I wouldn't reply on the blog in any case; they don't want me there, and I will respect their wishes. I do wish, now that I can think a little more clearly, that they'd given me a chance to explain, to offer to perhaps rephrase my header, to -- something. I don't know if I would have changed that one damning word in my header, but I would have appreciated the opportunity to consider it.

While I appreciate the support (more than I can usefully express, as I said yesterday) I'm also finding it very stressful. This isn't to ask y'all to stop, though I'll admit in my weaker moments I've considered asking folks to just let the Issue sink below the waters.

But it's not just me this is about -- it's about Tim and Ray as well, it's about R and C and M down in Australia working out their life together, L and L and M up in Vancouver (I think) and their menagerie; it's about J and S and J back in Pennsylvania, and it's about so many people, the ones I know and the many more I don't, people in triads and group marriages and arrangements I've never even heard of. Most of whom aren't Christian for a lot of the same reasons that many LGBT people aren't Christian -- there's no place for them at the table. For us.

That's got to give me the energy to keep on. People are fighting for me and I would be horribly remiss -- it would be terribly wrong of me -- I have to fight alongside them. Perhaps not in the confrontational end of things, at least not now (though perhaps sometime I'll have the strength for something like the Soulforce Equality Ride). There's not enough of me left, right now, for that. But in the explanatory end, living the example that I can be involved with more than one person and yet a good Christian, that really, we're all just like everyone else.

I just hope that I can manage that. It looks like my post yesterday was a good step, from the reactions I've gotten. I hope to be able to continue that. But today, everything's an effort; reading is hard, typing is hard, even breathing is hard.

One stitch at a time.

I need a job, badly, I have a part-time job working for a friend of mine, which is not quite enough to pay the rent and utilities; everything else is, for the nonce, going on the credit cards. Everything: gas, food for the cats and I, prescriptions. My car insurance is about to have to go on the card, too. This can only go on for so long.

I'm looking for a better job, of course; applying to anything within a half-hour's drive that I remotely think I qualify for. I'd be working nights at Wal-Mart right now (no shame, when it comes to survival) but I have a bum right leg and can't walk for more than a couple hours, can't stand still for more than perhaps ten minutes. I need to sit most of the time. Cuts out most of the 'cheap and cheesy' jobs.

This morning I had two interviews scheduled. The first was for a receptionist at a law office. I didn't have great hopes for it, as I don't have the clothing to work for lawyers (or, indeed, the poise). Apparently this is the kind of law office where you don't have to dress like a lawyer to work there; most everyone I saw wore jeans and a nice shirt. They also have a small friendly dog as an office mascot. My hopes rose until they brought me into the back, where, instead of being presented to an interviewer, I was instead presented with a hypothetical divorce situation, and told to write a letter to the other party's lawyer.

I melted down. Oh, I looked at the computer screen with an expression of interest and attention; no tears welled from my eyes, my hands didn't clench into fists. But after a few minutes of furious thought, I stood up and said, "My apologies, I was under the impression that this job didn't require law office experience", and left.

I haven't the faintest idea how to write such a letter. I simply don't know the industry. I don't know the code words, the jargon; I don't know how one even addresses a lawyer formally. Perhaps they simply meant to test my general letter-writing abilities, and don't realize how very much things vary from one industry to the next.

Were I (improbably) to set about hiring an admin assistant for a heraldry office, I wouldn't ask a potential hire to write a letter requesting permission to conflict, or one outlining the documentation for a name and asking for further information. I'm sure most of you are reading this going 'whaa...?' and readers, that's how I felt today.

Perhaps I ought to have tried. Perhaps, if the rest if my life weren't in such upheaval, if it had been anything but a divorce case, if I were simply strong enough...I don't know.

One breath at a time.

I got into my car and drove towards the second interview. I only had to wipe my eyes once; I can't afford to break down right now, or I won't get back up again. The second interview was a half-hour north, with a construction company. A place called Aslan Construction.

Even at my worst anti-Christian points I still loved Aslan...even knowing he was Jesus in other guise.

It's not a formal office, at all. Small, friendly-feeling. I was interviewed by a lovely woman in a hijab (I believe that's the term...the Muslim headscarf, not the face-veil or the burqa). She asked me some of the most interesting questions I've ever gotten in an interview, stuff like 'rate yourself from 1 to 10' and 'what do you wish you'd done differently in this interview'. Not 'rate yourself on punctuality or productiveness' or anything like that; just 'rate yourself'.

I have hopes. She was friendly and seemed pleased with my answers. And it's Aslan.

And I need a job so very desperately.

In the meantime, waiting, I sew. One stitch at a time.

One breath at a time.