Thank You?

Today I had an interview for my dream job. I think it went well. I've interviewed with them before - and been their patient and featured in their fundraising video. So it's a lower-key interview since they know my story and they called me to interview for this part-time opening.

But I'm second-guessing the interview: Was I too casual? Too confident? Too informative? Did they walk away thinking I was far enough removed from treatment and professional enough to use my experience therapeutically? Or not?

Now, I'm trying to write a thank you note.

My mom raised me to write a proper thank you note. Trouble is, as grateful and gracious as I strive to be, I am horrible about writing thank you notes. I try to be thankful in person or via email or text when someone does something for me or gives me a gift, knowing that the likelihood of me writing a thank you note later is about 0.5%.

But after an interview for my dream job, I think it would be a nice touch.

I got out my professional notecards and a couple index cards for practice, and I made a good start:

"Rosemary, Wilma [her name's Wilma, right? I'd better double check], and Mary,
"It was a pleasure to speak with you today about your open nursing position."

(What did the job posting call the position? The manager said nurse navigator, but I'm not sure that's what they called it in the interview...)

And then... writer's block. 

I just need two sentences. Something to charm them further, to show them I'm smart, insightful, even witty, and perfectly suited for their team. Some example of my fabulousness that we didn't cover in the interview to close the deal by convincing them of my undisputed suitability for this position. 

I could remind them that I'm an eager, ready-to-be-trained pup of a nurse: a blank slate to indoctrinate, without preconceived notions or other ways of doing things. Plus I have all that business experience: I can make things happen and guide persnickety execs and artists onto mutual ground, so stressed patients and grumpy doctors don't scare me. Not to mention my cancer survivor status, giving me a unique window into the patient experience that everyone says is so valuable... but I secretly wonder if that's actually a barrier.

Or I could tell them about what a great patient advocate I am. But that would require admitting to my somewhat ballsy middle-of-the-weekend-night emails to doctors and directors, passing along patient requests or providing gentle comment on the lamer aspects of new policies or botched patient communications. Emphasis on gentle because, of course, I was much more fired up when berating the issue with my co-workers earlier in the night.

There's also the possibility of highlighting my strengths as a team player. Which would require revealing that I potentially, albeit politely, step on my busy boss' toes by sending more middle-of-the-weekend-night emails to my fellow nurses, letting them know what I learned that day. [This is valid, I believe, because otherwise one of us learns something and no one else knows. I hoped others would follow my example, but, alas, no one else is sharing their nuggets of knowledge with the team. So we stumble along, making things up as we go.]

Alternately, there's my habit of using quiet night shift hours for helping the team by tying up loose ends. But this would uncover my best Minnesota passive aggressive tactics. For example, the other night I left an anonymous note asking "Whose pants are these?" on the yoga pants sitting on top of the shredder. [Since I'm the only one who uses writing to convey information, it's only semi-anonymous because I'm assuming they recognize my M.O. and my handwriting.] Undoubtedly these pants belong to a patient, since they include a forbidden drawstring (potential self-harm/suicide tool). But the underlying questions are, "Do we have ESP?? How is anyone supposed to know what's going on here?? How hard is it to put a patient label on the pants and maybe even put them in the closet [two doors down] where we store contraband belongings??"

Well, none of these ideas seemed suitable for my formal thank you note. Fortunately, we had dinner plans with friends tonight, one of whom is a very savvy businessman with lots of hiring experience.

I asked his advice, thinking he surely would provide a guiding light and practically write two inspired sentences for me.

But no.

He dismissed the thank you note, saying it would never influence his hiring decision. It might, he admitted, help someone stand out from the crowd, but that was it.

So much for my magic answer. And now I wonder... should I even bother? Is this a silly, antiquated tradition?

But these are nurses. Who communicate benign or malignant results to scared, anxious women. Who work in a small, tight team. So, however worthless, a handwritten note will probably say important things like "thoughtful" and "thorough" and "sweet." Which might make all the difference. If they haven't already made up their mind.

At least the negligible effectiveness of a thank you note takes some pressure off. I think this goes into the "It's the thought that counts" category.

Alright. As my clock speeds toward midnight, I'll give it one more try:

"Rosemary, Wilma [her name IS Wilma!], and Mary,
"It was a pleasure to speak with you today about your open nursing position. I would love to join your team and learn to provide essential support and education to women who are navigating a stressful diagnostic process. As I have participated in survivor groups, it has been a privilege to listen to women share their stories and to validate their experiences. The breadth of these stories creates a rich behind-the-scenes perspective that I believe will be an asset to your team and your patients. I look forward to hearing from you.
"Warm Regards,
"Lynne"

Too cheesy? Probably. These "Hire Me PLEASE" communications always feel like a bunch of BS to me - just a lot of schmoozing. But it's the acceptable way to say: I really, really want this position, you're gonna love me, please-please-please hire me right now because this schmoozy letter makes me sound irresistible. :)

Stay tuned - they said they'd make a decision "soon." Which could be big-corporation-speak for two months from now, even though I think their intention is the next couple weeks. When I find out, I'll be sure to let you know how effective my thank you note is.

Red Sea Rule #10 - And A Recap

We did it! 10 rules, 10 days... if only application were so easy!

To review, here are all 10 Red Sea Rules for navigating life's challenges:

#1: Realize that God means for you to be where you are.

#2: Be more concerned for God's glory than for your relief.

#3: Acknowledge your enemy, but keep your eyes on the Lord.

#4: Pray!

#5: Stay calm and confident, and give God time to work.

#6: When unsure, just take the next logical step by faith.

#7: Envision God's enveloping presence.

#8: Trust God to deliver in His own unique way.

#9: View your current crisis as a faith builder for the future.

And... DRUMROLL, please...

#10: Don't forget to praise Him.

Sometimes, I think this is the hardest one. When we are delivered out of our situation, sometimes it's gradual and we don't realize the difficulty is resolved until it's been awhile and it dawns on us that we're not struggling with that issue any more.

Other times, the problem is solved, we heave a sigh of relief and move on to the next thing - whether it's a new challenge or another shiny distraction our world offers.

I'm certainly guilty of this. Even with my last CT scan. There was so much tension and prayer and talk about the scan, and when I got my results - which my doctor delivered very nonchalantly - I don't feel like I gave proper praise to God. It's pretty awesome to get a clean scan, and for me, chances of a cure are so small that a clean scan is undoubtedly due to God's grace. You'd think I'd be doing spiritual cartwheels. On the inside I am awe-fully rejoicing, but as I look back, I find my outward expression lacking. Maybe it's the reserved Minnesota Scandinavian in me, maybe it's a cautious let's-see-what-the-next-scan-says, but this was a big deal and probably merited a spiritual parade with confetti and a marching band. And fireworks. Definitely fireworks.

BUT I don't think this rule is just about praising God after we're delivered from a trial.

It's even more important to praise Him DURING the trial. Sound impossible? One of my favorite songs for facing difficulty is "Broken Hallelujah" by Mandisa. She says, "When all that I can sing is a broken hallelujah, when my only offering is shattered praise, still a song of adoration will rise up from these ruins, and I will worship You and give You praise." What I love most about this is the idea that, when we can't form a coherent phrase because we're so stunned or so scared about what's going on, shards of praise are still acceptable. 

I do a lot of processing in my car. It's where I cry, where I lift my hands in praise, where I mentally wrestle through my problems. There have been times through this cancer journey when I couldn't even sing well-known song lyrics because I was too upset. Those are the times when I trust Mandisa's theology, and I open my hand as a symbol of giving the problem to God, even though I can't put any words together. 

Most days, though, I can put a LOT of words together. (As you can tell!) And finding things to be thankful for has been a life-saver for me. It changes my perspective for the better and helps me cope. We can go through our difficulties focused on the problem and how awful and hard it is, or we can keep our eyes peeled for silver linings, and be thankful for those. It could be as simple as sunshine, or as big as a friend calling at exactly the right time, or something you need showing up in the mail or on your doorstep. It's a skill: the more you look, the easier it is to find the blessings. Truth.

2+ years of cancer treatment has changed my perspective on difficulties. While I don't want anyone to have a hard time, I also hesitate to pray a bed of roses and a path of rainbows for everyone. Because we grow better when things are tough. Our roots go deeper and we become more resilient and more beautiful. So now I pray that when trials come, we will meet them graciously and rely on God to bring us through.

Remember the lesson from the fiery furnace I mentioned a few days ago? One of the coolest things about the story is that the guys who survived the fire didn't even smell like smoke. And we all know how easily smoke from a campfire permeates our clothes and hair. These guys got tossed into a raging furnace and not only were they not burned, but they didn't even SMELL like smoke. WOW. AND the only thing that burned: the ropes that bound them.

May you use these rules to come through your own challenges unbound and not even smelling like smoke. xoxo