May these poems be a blessing to you as they have been a blessing to me
In 1521, a cannonball shattered the leg of Ignatius of Loyola—and with it, the future he had imagined for himself. During his long recovery, the ambitious young soldier found himself forced into an unfamiliar place: the space between who he had been and who he might become.
That interruption eventually changed the direction of his life. As Ignatius recovered, he began paying closer attention to his thoughts, desires, and emotions—especially to what brought lasting peace and what left him restless or empty. These observations would eventually help shape the Ignatian practice of discernment.
Five hundred years later, I find myself thinking about Ignatius and his cannonball as I navigate an unexpected interruption of my own.
My cannonball was not made of iron. It came in the form of a career transition. After years of professional life, schedules, responsibilities, meetings, projects, and the familiar answer to the question “What do you do?”, I suddenly found myself without the structure of work. Unemployed.
It is a surprisingly heavy word. Career transitions create practical concerns, of course. There are résumés to revise, applications to submit, interviews to prepare for, and financial decisions to make. But there is another dimension that receives less attention. A career transition can also unsettle our sense of identity. For many of us, work quietly becomes one of the primary ways we understand ourselves. Our jobs provide not only income but rhythm, community, usefulness, and evidence that we matter somewhere. Remove the job, and unexpected questions emerge.
Who am I when nobody needs something from me by Friday?
Am I still useful when there is no organization measuring my contribution?
And perhaps the hardest question: What am I supposed to do with this time?
That is where the Ignatian Examen has become especially important to me.
The Examen has not given me a map for what comes next, nor has it removed the uncertainty of unemployment. What it has given me is a way to navigate this in-between time with greater attention and trust. Instead of measuring each day by applications, interviews, or job offers, I am learning to notice what gives me life, what drains me, where I experience peace, and where God may be present. Most importantly, the Examen is helping me separate who I am from what I do. Like Ignatius after his cannonball moment, I cannot yet see where this interruption will lead. But I am learning that the gap is not simply empty time between two jobs; it can be a place of discernment, growth, and grace—a place where God is already at work.