I spoke with Clarita today. Clarita is one of the cafeteria staff that work and serve the foremen and engineers at the plant i manage. She has probably the cutest spanish accent i’ve ever heard. Partly due to the fact that she’s slightly speech impaired. Clarita behaves like a baby. I mean that literally. She pouts when she doesn’t get her way, she smiles with all 32 teeth (probably less) when she’s happy, and she skips around the facility singing old time spanish folk songs. She literally makes me smile everytime i see her.
“Good morning Martin!”, Her high pitched voice would shreik out as she beams a smile that lights up the room. Always cheerful, always singing.
Guess what i learned today? She’s 31 years old.
I stayed in the cafe with her and the other service staff for about 1 hour today. I helped them carry the supplies when the truck got here. You need to see the look on their faces. Utter shock. That’s the rest of them though. Clarita kept handing me stuff like it was my job. lol.
I sat through the weekly management meeting today. I’m the only black guy in management. To make matters worse? I’m 23 and a couple of people know it. The foremen, derrick-hand, and other staff take orders from me. I have also had to give out a verbal warning to a field engineer who left a valve at 3/4 instead of 1/2 pass.
Sometimes while at my desk or on the feild, my spirit leaves my body and i take a panoramic view of where i am. As usual, one question comes to mind. How in the world did i get here. I sit at design meetings and Ham Zat meetings with graduates of Duke, Texas and other IVY league schools in the world. At these meetings i sit back and remember the name on my own university degree.
E reach to laugh.
I havn’t done my masters yet. So i still ask myself everyday, if i’m really worth these small blessings. Went out to my Boss’ ranch last weekend. On his private plane. Chill guys, Nugwa was on a private jet? I didn’t take a picture so i wouldn’t spur anymore “African caveman” jokes. But it’s still not hit me yet. God has been so good that a part of me feels guilty for receiving these blessings. I did not work for this. I have not been lazy but a part of me knows that the work i have put in is not commensurate to the blessings i have gotten out of life. Why does He keep blessing me?
It’s this conundrum that makes me feel like i still have to “work” a little bit. Look, don’t get me wrong. I am a minister of Grace. I probably can teach far greater a sermon on grace than you can. But this grace don pass be careful. I’m too young, too African, too inexperienced, too unqualified and too unworthy to recieve this grace.
I guess thats why i love hanging out with Clarita and the crew. The hard work these people do reminds me of this grace, because i’m not that much better than them. I’m just blessed. My classmates from back in school are mostly just starting up careers. I’m in management. I did not burst my ass in school. Did things at my pace. I’d love to say i “worked smart not hard” but i know people who “worked smarter” than i did yet they have different results.
“I will have mercy on whom i will have mercy”
The original greek word was “Charis” – Grace.
Creepy that He chose me. Humblingly creepy.
And as i got off my boss’ private jet on sunday, God said something to me.
“And all this is still your prison stage”
I’m officially fucking scared of what the palace will be.