Hope birthed in the desert

Sometimes, things just work out.

The past three years may not have not necessarily felt like that in my life. But the past three days absolutely have.

The past three years, I have been enduring, as Bishop TD Jakes once said of young Joseph, the favored son of Jacob, "a long season of bad going to worse." Losing Brandon two days before my birthday, grieving his extraordinary loss, then attempting to move on through life with joy again, only to have endured a year and four month search for my next vocational breakthrough while my current position dries up, has given my understanding of perseverance a new meaning. Thankfully there has been travel (Seattle, Vancouver BC, Monterey & Big Sur, Arizona), family and community and all the good foods to balance out the challenges. But the reality is the persecution I've faced has been strong.

In May 2024, I went into my performance review at the research center I work for expecting to be promoted from research analyst (assistant level) to research analyst. It was, after all, what my supervisor and I had discussed prior to the weeks leading up to the performance review. I'd joined the company as an Executive Assistant to the Director, and had been promoted to Community Engagement Manager the following year, then to the entry level research analyst role the next. By year four of my time at the company, I expected to be promoted again. I had, after all, been doing all the work of a Research Analyst: attending and contributing to project team meetings, planning recruitment for the qualitative interviews, conducting said interviews, coding and analyzing the data. At times, I did this across four projects at at time. Imagine how blind sighted I felt when my supervisor, who had previously informed me that "there was no reason I shouldn't get the promotion" entered the Zoom room and began with, "I'm not gonna bury the lead." I was told that my position was going to be cut down to .5FTE (its funding essentially cut in half) at the end of fall 2024.

I began looking for work immediately, applying to jobs online, letting everyone know that I was looking, putting in resumes in higher education institutions (where I've build my career the last thirteen years) as well as in ministry positions at churches. What began as expectancy and hope turned to discouragement, however, when I would interview for roles, get to the final round, and then be informed that the role was being canceled due to funding...or that they had decided to go in another direction.

Month after month ticked by, as I continued to apply for roles, and then another performance review came around. "Your role is going to be increased back to .8FTE of your salary," I was told. I held onto the role so that I could pay my mortgage and have health insurance. I applied for a swim instructor role, to bring in additional income. Now, working two jobs, I was making right around what I had originally been making with the one.

Then, last week, yet another review. My role, which I had been told was guaranteed until May 2026, was being eliminated at the end of the year. This, despite the fact that I had been brought into the work of helping to onboard no less than five new positions over as many of the last months. The elimination of my role, I was told, was not due to performance, but due to funding.

But if that was the case, where did the funds come from for the five additional roles we had just hired for?

I was exhausted. Fighting through grief and loss to begin to find joy in everyday living again after devastating loss is one thing. But doing so while also experiencing the negative effects of implicit bias and racism, and navigating pervasive aftershocks of a divisive and hateful presidential administration, brought me to the very end of my patience.

Before I could burrow down into defeat, however, I had a third interview for a pastoral role at the church I attend in San Francisco. The same day, I got an email from a fellow ASU employee inviting us to take advantage of free tickets to a Diversity Leadership Alliance conference being held in Tempe. I received her email a week ahead of the conference, which was short notice, but it was just two days away from my pups. My mom was a loving and willing sitter. Maybe I could make some connections amidst the job search, I thought, as I used my professional development funds to book the travel.

Sitting in the Phoenix-Sky Harbor International airport now, waiting for the plane to board, I am so thankful that I chose to come to the conference. To place my body in a new territory which has always been a kind, friendly, and informative space. To make connections with likeminded people who told me they would be happy to put me in touch with their contacts, to share their job boards, to recommend me for teaching positions in religious studies at the college campuses they teach at.

Throughout the conference, there were little signs and whispers from the beautiful one I love and lost, rainbows dancing on the walls while having a conversation with a professor about a new teaching opportunity and dancing in the waters of the hotel pool. Presentations at the conference which held his language: "Yes, there will be failure in life, but failure also represents an opportunity to pivot." Even two rams standing on top of a red rock formation near the conference center brought to mind the biblical narrative of God providing a ram in the thicket when Abraham was prepared to sacrifice Isaac. When there was no other way, God had made a way. Could it be that fruit might emerge from such a dry, desert space of my spiritual journey? Could it be that harvest could arrive, that I could be sated with sweet and wonderful things, even after such a desolate and barren season?

The Sonoran desert always awes, intrigues, and inspires me. Its sweet, undefinable aroma blows its intoxicating floral notes throughout the night. The cacti, flora and fauna which are so very different from the redwood coast from which I come grow abundantly even amidst the harsh climate. Creative energy exudes out of a place which seems unsurvivable, but somehow leads to flourishing and innovation. The Sonoran desert is a space which encourages the pivot.

Could it be that be the season I am currently navigating (I would dare to say coming out of) will lead to good fruit, to harvest, to abundance? Can goodness come from this cracked, thirsty earth? Can flourishing come out of a seemingly dry well? Can hope birthed in the desert give way to abundant blooms?

I expect so.