Every other Wednesday morning, we open the door to Room 108 to men and women between jobs – victims of this national crisis who wake up wondering how they might muster enough money to pay the mortgage. We offer a devotional, hot coffee, biscuits or doughnuts, a speaker, and the chance to commiserate with others navigating the same difficult path.

Our job support group has been quite successful. Career Connection, as we call it, typically draws 25 or so to each meeting from the congregation and community. About half are regulars, though I know they’d rather be anywhere else on a Wednesday morning. How bittersweet it is to hear them rise each time and introduce themselves to the group, sharing the same brief biography, and the same unanswered hope. Speakers on such topics as writing a resume and taking good care of yourself have been valuable. The meetings start at 10 and are supposed to end at 11, though I saw a few folks lingering well past noon this week. I believe they take great comfort in the quiet, relaxed conversation, even if they wish they had a job to rush back to.

I find myself offering the same fond farewell each time, but I don’t know if it’s appropriate: Hope to see you next time.

I share this to let you know the good taking place at this church, and at other houses of worship that have created or resurrected job support programs. As we share God’s love with those in distant lands, we share it as well with neighbors who yearn only for the chance to grab a piece of toast as they rush off to the office. Any office.

I share this for another reason: I want you to know what a blessing it is to be in the midst of people who refuse to let this get the better of them. At our Career Connection meetings, a fighting spirit rages, a grace, a sense that while these days pose a problem, they also present an opportunity.

Many people talk about using this as the chance to find a new career, a new direction in life. They relish making new friends, even if it’s at a gathering of the jobless. They eagerly compare job-search notes, having turned this not just into a personal challenge but a righteous crusade to make life more meaningful. They laugh at self-deprecating jokes, as in “You think you’ve got it bad…” And while I know that tears are shed in the shadows, in the light of day at the church, I still see smiles.

Tired smiles, but smiles just the same.

The other day, as we went around the room introducing ourselves and sharing our interest in landing a job at a bank, store or construction site, each one of us shared a personal blessing.

Near the end, one fellow gave his name, told his story and cut to the chase. “My blessing,” he said, “is I have my health and I still live in Charlotte, North Carolina.”

There were nods all around. In the midst of a crisis, thankfulness abides.