A Time For Firsts

Someone once said, “There is a first time for everything.” While digesting this expression, I ponder what first time event was occurring in their life to extract such a profound maxim? As I continue to dissect the meaning behind these words I find myself examining my own life.

This year has presented me with a collection of firsts:

For the first time I loved unconditionally.
For the first time I felt genuine rejection.
For the first time I became acquainted with real depression.
For the first time I met Jesus.
For the first time I accepted His embrace.
For the first time I stood steadily on both feet.
For the first time I gazed into the mirror and smiled back at my reflection.
For the first time I’m not searching.

This past Friday also posed another first in my life. But prior to Friday was Wednesday. There was some speculation concerning whether we were having Mission Nursing class that evening at 5:00 PM. While waiting for the down-low from a classmate, I had a strange urge to check my voicemail on the room phone. It is fairly out of character for me to check this system. It is always malfunctioning, and thus I disregard it as a source of communication and distribute my cell phone number as my basis of contact information. Yet I had this inclination to check my messages, and consequently called downstairs to the front desk to pathetically request my mailbox number which I had long since forgotten.

“You have two unplayed messages.” Hmmmmmm. I guess it was worth the effort. Message one was a callback from Vicky, my little sister. Message two was another callback. This one from a woman named, Sue Matthews, sporting a heavy Indian accent. I had just recently applied for a job as a nurse intern at Memorial Hospital in Chattanooga. I shushed my roommate while scribbling her phone number on the pad of PostIt notes on my desk. I promptly returned her call. Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, click. “Hello?” We set up an interview.

Friday 11:00 AM. Donning my Agent Scully high heels and most professional attire I pulled into the parking garage with 5 measly minutes to spare. Mid-morning traffic was killer as usual. Driving in circles, my eyes darted to and fro frantically searching for somewhere to park Wanda. Already slightly nauseous, this was not helping. But ah, there’s one! Whipping around, I threw the car into park and flung myself out the door. Now comes the most spectacular feat. I took off into a full run, uphill, in 3 inch heels. Squealing like a little girl as I rounded the corner, a man smoking a cigarette turned and raised his eyebrow at the sight of this little blond running and squealing, just barely smacking head first into the automatic doors that were not quite quick enough for me.

Panting, I arrived on 1 Central and paged Sue. Anxiously tapping my right foot on the tile floor, I zoned out for a few minutes to collect myself. As I began to phone-home again, Sue emerged from around the corner with another Southern student. She offered me a drink which I quickly refused and then directed me to her office. For the next half hour we discussed the details of orientation and the stipulations behind hire. She then offered to give me a tour of 1 North, the unit I applied to work on, and where I did my management practicum in January. Thus, we wandered down the hall to 1 North. Suddenly voices and faces that were all too familiar tapped into my senses. Of course the nurses recognized my laugh from down the hall and greeted me. Sue took me to Lynn’s office. I sat in a swivel chair as he pretended to “interview” me. While working on 1 North in January I had the opportunity to establish a rapport with the nurses and the charge nurse especially. Lynn, being the charge nurse, was the one who informed me about the job opening. He turned to me and smiled. “We want you.” That was all he said. “It’s that easy?” I inquired. He smiled again.

This was definitely a first. My first major job interview. My first nursing job. Johnny on the spot! What first is next? Only time will tell.