My Fellowship

“I’ve been in here for far too long,” I thought while locked in the bathroom stall. “People might start talking!” My thoughts may have been trying to get me out of that stall, but my anxiety attack made sure I stayed locked inside. I’ll admit that I’m a pretty anxious person, but I don’t think it had ever gotten that bad. I did my best to control my breathing, to try to slow down my heart rate, and to wipe off all the sweat that was dripping off my forehead. As soon as my hand reached to unlock the stall, it all started up again. The pressure was just too much.

You see, for the past six months I had lobbied, organized, and planned the next step in my clinical psychology training: my fellowship. Typically, fellowships are already established training programs that require multiple application steps. But there are certain people who, like me, fancy themselves as creative and take on the task of developing their own fellowships. But it’s not enough to have a fancy idea. In order to form my own fellowship, I needed the help and support of people who were willing to lobby for me so that it would get approved.

God’s Hand

So, I hope you can understand why I was locked inside that bathroom stall. After all of this time and social capital spent trying to make this fellowship a reality, I couldn’t fail. There was no room for error!

But then I realized that there was one key ingredient that I was forgetting. Yes, my fellowship was approved because I worked hard and because I had the support of others. But I can’t neglect to mention God’s hand in putting me exactly where I am today. Why did I think his hand would suddenly leave me just because I got what I wanted?

So I opened the bathroom stall door and walked out. I was just as unsure of myself as I was when I went in. But I also left with the confidence that the One who guided me here would never leave me.

“God will make this happen, for he who calls you is faithful,” (1 Thessalonians 5:24, NLT).

If you liked this, you may also enjoy Trust In You | Trusting God In the Hard Times 

Jael Amador writes from New York, New York.

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