Just when I started to believe that it was time to get the hell out of Iowa, I received a sign.
The Universe works in mysterious ways.
A couple of weeks ago, I found out that my former home, a cute vintage basement apartment in Oak Park, Illinois, was once again available for rent.
A sign! I thought.
I promptly emailed my former property manager, who was excited about the possibility of having me back as a tenant. But unfortunately, they had already started showing the apartment, and before I even had a chance to fill out an application, it was already gone.
I have no idea who the new tenant is, but I hate them.
With passion!
“The Universe is messing with me,” I complained to my BFF (who doubles as my spiritual advisor). “Why would it get my hopes up like that for no reason!?”
BFF responded that the Universe could still be giving me a sign. Just because my old apartment wasn’t an option anymore didn’t mean I couldn’t be happy in another one, especially considering that I clearly missed both Oak Park and Chicago, and didn’t seem to be excited about Iowa anymore.
That’s why, when I was driving for a job interview in Iowa City last week, I promised myself that this would be my last interview on Iowa soil.
If it doesn’t work out, I thought, it’s clearly a sign that I’m not meant to stay here. I’m going to start applying in Illinois and maybe even in other states, because why not!? I’m single, I don’t have any kids, and my dogs and my cat don’t care where we live, as long as we are together and their bowls are filled twice a day.
And then I got the job.
I was very honest and upfront during my interview about my issues with my previous employer. In fact, the whole interview lasted 45 minutes longer than it was supposed to, because the program manager and the HR representative wanted to hear the full story.
It felt good to be finally heard.
I’m grateful to have a job again, and I’m especially grateful it’s at this agency. I can’t explain how or why, but ever since I walked into the building for the first time, it felt like coming home.
Of course, that means that I have to forget about the sign that I am meant to go back to Chicago, at least for the time being.
Signs are a tricky business, y’all!
I believe in them, obviously, but I’m also the first one to admit that it can be hard to decide what might be a true sign and what is just a coincidence. Because sometimes shit just happens.
The irony is that a sign was one of the reasons why I ended up in Iowa in the first place.
Back in the summer of 2023, I was browsing the Internet and somehow came across the National Czech & Slovak Museum, located in Cedar Rapids. Further search revealed that Cedar Rapids was a mid-sized town in Eastern Iowa founded by Czech and German settlers.
In case you didn’t know, I’m Czech.
So naturally, it felt like a sign.
As Cedar Rapids was only a four-hour drive from Oak Park, I decided it would be the perfect destination for my very first road trip. Or, more accurately, for the very first road trip that I would take by myself, which had been on my list forever. (A confession: I’m scared shitless of driving on expressways.)
I booked a cute little cottage through Airbnb, loaded the dogs into my car, left the cat with my upstairs neighbors, and drove to Cedar Rapids, which might sound like not that big of a deal to most people, but trust me, it was a HUGE step for me!
The trip was lovely, and of course, I went to the museum. As I was browsing the shelves in the library, my eyes fell on a classic Czech poetry collection. I picked it up, opened it to a random page, and here it was: My late father’s favorite poem by Karel Havlíček Borovský, a nineteenth-century poet, philosopher, and political activist that no American has ever heard of.
What are the odds, right?
A flood of childhood memories came rushing to me. I ended up sitting on the floor with the book in my lap, crying because I could hear Dad’s voice so clearly in my head, reciting the poem.
I decided right there on the floor of the museum library that the poem had to be a sign from my dad. I had been thinking about moving out of Chicago, but couldn’t decide where to. Based on the sign, Cedar Rapids was the place to be.
Ugh, and two years later, look where that got me!
So yes, signs can be confusing. But I can’t ignore the fact that I had been praying for a sign all the way to my interview. And I was told afterward that it would take about a week before I heard back, except that the program manager called me the NEXT DAY to offer me the job because he believed I would be a good fit. That has to mean something, right?
I believe so, which is why I’m staying.
For now.
Hopefully, in the next couple of months, we will find out whether the job offer was a true blessing or whether the Universe is just messing with me, like it so frequently does.
Let us pray for the former.
How about you? Do you believe in signs, or do you think it’s nothing but a superstition? Let me know in the comments!