Lessons from Work -- Including how to make a mayo sandwich!

I've learned a lot of things from my new job at SubAcute; things that I would call really useful skills. For example, convincing kids to go to bed when it's only 9pm, or seeing and stopping conflicts almost precognitively. This stuff will be REALLY useful if I'm ever a parent. Or a teacher.

Other things are only useful for the immediate situation I'm in. There is a child we have who refuses to eat most food and gets amazingly cranky as a result. I've found that by honoring this client's request to make a mayonnaise sandwich the correct way I can save myself a lot of grief in the coming hours. Will this ever work for any other person in the world? Probably not. But it does here, for this one child.

By the way, if you're wondering how to make a mayonnaise sandwich the correct way, here it is: onto both slices of bread, painstakingly tease the last semi-congealed ounces of mayo out of the squeeze bottle (or, if you've already run out, a mayo packet for each side will do). CAREFUL: not too much! This is the first mistake you can make. But there definitely needs to be mayo on both sides. Then find some cheese in the fridge. Not the pre-sliced american cheese - that stuff is gross, and it would be far too easy, which would lead you to possible mistake #2. Nope, I'm going to need you to reach into the bottom shelf of the fridge and pull out three (3) individually wrapped 1" x 2" x 1/2" packets of tillamook medium cheddar. Now, you can't just lay those on the mayo, because the cheese is too thick. That would be mistake #3. No, you need to slice it in half, so it's only 1/4" thick. Quick, look around the kitchen for knives...oh wait, we don't have any here. Not in this facility full of self-harmers. So grab a pizza cutter from the utensil drawer and very carefully slice the cheese. Only then can you lay the cheese on the sandwich. Is that too much cheese? Of course it is! Because the third packet is just for you. It's your reward for sucessfully completing the mayonnaise sandwich. Now you'd better make another for later when our hungry friend gets upset after a bad phone call tonight...

Nothing in the previous paragraph was even the slightest bit exaggerated.

But I really do love my job. It's a good job, and while it isn't particularly fun to hang out with whiny, entitled, adolescents who are dependant on you for meeting their entire Maslow's pyramid of needs, this is where I should be. The kids don't often show a whole lot of positive change, which is frustrating, but at least I can act in hopes that they will. So much of this job depends of hoping. If you lose hope in some sort of transformative power, then there really is no reason for this facility to exist. More on why I love my job some other time.

I had a moment of realization the other day though. When I'm working with these kids, I get a closer glimpse of unconditional love than I have ever seen before. These kids give almost nothing back. No appreciation, little respect...just more demands. And I've discovered that what they need is unconditional love. Not that I can give it to them. When the demands and lack of appreciation mount up, I eventually give up. I act out of frustration. And I may still get them their 482nd cup of water, but I will not be loving them when I do it. But to know that it is possible to get them that cup of water, even after 481 others, and still love them...that means I have more to learn about love.

I could be loving them better! That's a hard thing to think at cup 482. This job is hard.

One of my brightest consolations of working at SubAcute is that these children are Jesus, perhaps even more so than the homeless people on the streets and the wandering strangers. And that makes getting that cup of water and making that mayo sandwich quite a bit easier.