Boldly Bear Your Cross

I’ve been searching for work, and I’ve gone on a number of interviews. I have a specific first interview look: from each article of clothing to the way I part my hair, my appearance is the same for every first interview.

This morning, I loaded up my stuff into the car and going through my checklist: matching blazer and bottoms, check; soft blue top, check; dark blue shoes, check; contacts, check; padfolio with resumes and pen, check; spare pen, check; … necklace … where did that treble clef necklace go?

I thought I knew precisely where it was, so I checked. Nope. So I checked the next place. Nope. I furrowed my eyebrows and thought, lifting my right hand to my neck to play with the pendant currently there as I concentrated on where my accessory might have gone, but no other location came to me. And I wasn’t going sans-necklace; it’s the only jewelry I wear, and I feel bare without it.

My thumb rubbed the back of my cross as my forefinger steadied it. I try to get a feel for the people I’m meeting with before wearing anything overtly religious; it’s remarkably easy to put people off these days. At the same time, I was just talking with a friend the other day about how I’m not going to hide my faith at work: I’m not going to preach (which sounds terrifying), but I am going to live my faith. And I’m not about to hide it in an interview, either – I don’t want to end up in a situation where my co-workers are hostile to me having faith – but I’m also not going to poke the bear. It’s a tightrope I’ve learned to navigate.

I shrugged and drove off. Well, that’s that. It’s on them if they’re offended; I suppose it isn’t meant to be.

This thought was frightening, particularly given a conversation I had on Sunday about my inability to find work, but it was also remarkably peaceful. This is the necklace I wear most every day; it holds a lot of symbolism for me. It’s not the conversation starter that my standard one is, but it’s very me.

Accepting whatever was to come my way, I was off.

There are a number of things that I took from this interview, but while I was walking back toward my car after the interview, only one stuck out: I wore my cross and I found my people. We had a lot of similarities: Maine connection, trains, and Church. Not only do we attend the same church, we attend the same Mass time!

Certainly, this would have come into the conversation if I’d been wearing any other pendant, but that I was wearing this one made the revelation all the more striking. The one time I wear my cross necklace is the one time I hit it off with a fellow follower of Christ. Go figure. What a coincidence!

But that’s the thing: it’s not coincidence.

Based on the discussion, we would have probably discovered we attend the same Mass time at the same church. Probably. But my wearing that cross, despite my concerns about causing offense, was a signal to who I am. That signal was a flag to others about who I am, inviting them to engage me in a discussion about that part of me.

I’m still working on allowing people to see aspects of me that I don’t know they’ll like, but I find that I don’t connect with people unless I put myself out there. I can go just a little out there; it doesn’t have to be a mile, but I should try to step a toe length or so. And these are things that I may even like about myself! Perfect example: I sing, but I’m so nervous about singing in front of people because I don’t want anyone to have to tell me to stop mid-song. How awkward that would be for them! And how embarrassing for me. Regardless, if I don’t sing, I won’t know who I can inspire to sing with me.

What do you want to connect with others about but are worried about the response? Have you done anything particularly gutsy lately with respect to putting yourself out there?