Found

For the third time in less than two months, a complete stranger asked me in the middle of my rushing about to ask me a question, their face pained with the sort of trepidation that usually comes along with running into a high school acquaintance whom you know you should remember, but clearly don’t.
“Excuse me, ma’am… but…” pause… “Are you… Irish?”
Blink. Blink.
Today it happened by the G3 elevators, and the visual genealogist was an elderly man – probably in his eighties – just as meek and mild as could be, and was delighted to see that he could, apparently, still detect an Irishwoman a mile away.
The only link I can determine through this strange rash of events is that each time this has happened, I have been rushing somewhere, and when my blood gets moving, my cheeks get to be that annoying pink hue I’ve always despised. It is always so obvious given my complexion, and apparently, that makes me look Irish. But the fact that was never said the first twenty-one years of my life, but so often in recent months, is more than a little weird.
That anecdote has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of my post tonight. But feel free to vote on whether or not you think I look Irish.
The rest of my post tonight is about how funny this world is. Maybe it’s the Hill; maybe it’s being a woman; maybe it’s being a twenty something in D.C.; but I tend to think this is humanity.
I had a fairly rotten day at work, which are so few and far between that it seems to accentuate the badness of it that much more. People being upset at each other, a thousand plus emails in the last four days, and all the creative energies I’ve expended this week finally catching up with me. By the end of the day, as I was sorting through said pile of mail, it was all I could do to not cry. Not about anything in particular; just a general feeling of wanting to throw in the towel. The job was too big, I wasn’t a good enough writer, I’d never be the policy analyst on par with my colleagues. Didn’t help that it was one of those days I just didn’t feel like being seen by other people in the first place. Not enough was the theme: it was in the stack of letters, it was in the mirror, it was ringing in my ears.
It didn’t help that when I dashed out of work to make it to an evening event on the Senate side – my first day of training as a summer discipler with the Center for Christian Statesmanship – I decided to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and walk above ground instead of taking the tunnels. To my chagrin, a suspicious package or substance had closed down a long stretch of Independence, making my walk a lot further than it needed to be. I did enjoy the vibrant pink tulips, the fresh damp taste of the air, and the people walking their dogs on this lovely evening; still, I didn’t feel like I was quite in shape to show up to a meeting with a bunch of people I didn’t know.
What was strange was this meeting was held in the Heritage building, where I spent the summer of 2003. Being back there was so strange, and it awoke the idealistic me that still considered D.C. fresh, new ground, as well as my willingness to work the soil. But looking in the mirror as I freshened up from my fast walk, no doubt one of the same mirrors I’d stared into years ago, I just looked different.
But then I went to the designated meeting place and started introducing myself. I’d almost forgotten this wasn’t going to be a reception or a briefing; I didn’t have to be “on.” These were brothers and sisters in Christ, most of whom had far more Capitol Hill experience than me, and they knew what it was to have had a bad day. So as we settled into discussion, I became acutely aware I was being given an opportunity to get to know wonderful people, an excellent team, on par with the Caleb Project and many of the best __Cers around, but in my new “home” environment. I also remembered that each of the people in that room had been led there for a reason, and the next months would be a very special time for all of us. I realized the mirror shouldn't have been where I was looking in the first place.
It was being found, in a small way. Enough to scour away the grime of the day and rediscover the joy that abides even when I refuse to recognize it.
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!