I’ve always been a librarian; I just never knew it until 1992. That summer, four months engaged to Judi, and newly graduated with a degree in music, I began applying for temporary work.
I had finally resolved that music was not the direction I would spend my life, after 5 years of study and practice, I knew I was not fit with the temperament of a teacher; if anything, I loved academics, and high schoolers were anything but academic. I judged the whole pursuit useful at the time—I learned to let my emotions be what they were, to be, if possible, confident in front of a crowd. I was adequate at the piano, and had a strong baritone; my heart was not tethered to music, but I was a musician at heart. I didn’t know what it was the future had in store, but I was certain I wouldn’t be waving a baton in front of a high school band. So, yes. Temporary work. I typed 70 words a minute, had spent a few months training myself on Lotus 123, Quattro Pro and Word Perfect. I hawked my name and resume to local agencies. At first, I landed work moving things in warehouses, then I finally was hired by Borland International, where I spent the next 3 1/2 months doing order entry, taking calls from customers who needed the software company’s products. It was the perfect job, I thought. I got bonuses for selling extras to the customer, and I was getting paid a decent wage. Some days I got to sit there and enter customer stuff from cards. I enjoyed myself, and was soon pinning my hopes on being hired permanently by what was then the third largest software company in the world.
Do you remember Borland International? You probably don’t. That’s how hard and fast they fell. I was extremely lucky. Judi urged me to get a better job. This one wasn’t stable, she said. I wanted to scoff, but I listened. Benefits would be nice; so would the assurance I would have a job from week to week. Toward the end of August, a job came up at Bethany Bible College, in the library, as a Library Assistant II, replacing the circulation assistant. I moved into a Swedish-style freezing-cold cabin at the top of the Mission Springs summer camp with Craig Mosher, and accepted the job, assured of a steady income. Two weeks later, I discovered from a former colleague that Borland Intl. had released all their temporary employees, and nearly half their regular fulltime staff.
My music professor Kathy Wilson once told me that every time God closes a door, a new one opens, and that it’s not our job to stare at the door, but walk through them when we see them. 1992 was a year of opening and closing doors for me. A dazzling fiancée, a new job, a change of musicality, a change of spirituality, a close friend (Craig). I can’t claim for a moment that these items came because of something I did. Even then, I didn’t see the effects of those events. Some would call it luck, I suppose; however, that year, the dominoes really did fall for me, exactly as ordained.