My paper, the Tucson Citizen, was supposed to be closed by Saturday. With multiple newspapers for sale and no buyers jumping into the fray (the Rocky Mountain News folded a few weeks ago and the Seattle P-I shed about 130 staffers Monday to go to a 20-person online only newspaper Tuesday) no one expected a buyer to step forward for a small afternoon daily.

But, SURPRISE! we were told yesterday that at least two buyers have come forward and the bidding is “very serious.” Should be good news, no?

Maybe. But not if the new buyer comes in, rapes the newsroom and leaves everyone out of work sans the severance our paper’s corporate parent offered. Or certainly not for the folks who’ve been lucky enough to score jobs that start in the next week, because the severance is only good if you stay until the sale closes, and they took those jobs thinking the paper would close Saturday.

So, stress is high in the newsroom. Staffers had fought the inevitable and then, in the last week, accepted they’d probably have to give up journalism and dig for jobs in the worst job market since the ’80s. That acceptance brought a certain measure of peace. Yes, it was going to suck and yes, few were getting job offers, but at least we’d have severance and wouldn’t be on the street right away. But now, with the news of a possible sale, uncertainty is rife and fear is rampant. And people are acting just a little crazy.

When you don’t know what the future holds, there are two options: you can trust (in God, the Great Spirit, positive energy or benevolent buyers) or you can flip out. There’s been a whole lot of the latter and not enough of the former in the past 24 hours. I can’t blame people because the whole living-in-a-car thing is all too real on Tucson streets right now. (It would make a great story, but investigations are rare at both of Tucson’s dailies because metro desks have been thinned to barely-there by corporate demands for profits. Not that I’m cynical or anything.)

The thing is, twisting in the wind or railing against the forces of corporate media gets you no where. I found myself almost quoting scripture in the newsroom today, Jesus’ statement about worrying not adding a day to your life. There comes a time when you have to accept that all you can do is keep going and recognize that if you stay positive, you’ll be led in the right direction. It won’t be easy, necessarily, and you may have to ask for help. But at least you won’t die of a heart attack because you’re panicked 24-7.

I’m a professional worrier, so I know what I’m talking about here. You have to distract yourself from worry about the future because it won’t change the future, and it just might kill you. (I’m distracting myself by worrying about the present: my 19 y/old is on a mission trip to Chiapas that doesn’t end for four days.)

We don’t even know if we’ll be alive tomorrow. So listen to some good music (thanks Stauffer for lending me your headphones to drown out the newsroom angst!), have a glass of wine, run on the treadmill, gaze at the ridiculous beauty of Tucson’s mountains, hug your kids, lift someone else’s load. Yes, losing a job will be horrible. Being tossed around by guys with deep pockets as though you’re a rag doll sucks. But your child didn’t die in a fraternity last week and your son isn’t facing the death penalty for killing his kids. If you’re not dealing with those tragedies, I say be grateful and put on your trust hat. And remember the motto of a journalist I know: It will be alright. I promise.

A few months ago, I told a priest I wished God would send a Post-it note with a message that: 1) proved God’s existence and 2) told me what I should do with my life.

The impending layoff, wondering what is going to happen to journalism, despair that maybe no one will notice when news is gone and democracy will collapse because of that absence (or just the local city council will get away with murder), a beautiful life marred by a few desperately painful mistakes — these things have collided to feed a crisis in faith that has been nibbling along the edges of my life for a few years, and darkness loomed. I wanted – no, needed – proof and I wanted it in a yellow sticky. It seemed such a small request. How hard could it be for the Creator of All to drop me a line?

The priest laughed and said, “But, Renee, if you got a Post-it, you would instantly question if it was REALLY from God.”

He knows me well: I’m plagued by a questioning nature. I envy those of easy belief, those whose simple faith is truly childlike. They trust, God provides. They accept mystery as part and parcel of the whole deal and don’t drown in the questions. And they are something I am frequently not: Blissfully happy. Even in the midst of pain, these folks find joy.

Since my talk with my priest friend, I’ve been trying in earnest to sharpen my spiritual tuning fork. I’ve been trying to pay more attention and take more time. And, in the past few weeks, I’ve had what I used to call “God moments,” but like the priest said, I’ve tended to question them. “Naw, that wasn’t … no, that was …. well, it was a coincidence.”

Here I ask God for a sign and I get some pretty obvious ones (even in the midst of the layoff, with despair threatening) and instead of saying, “Hey, that’s my Post-it note,” I say, “It’s not yellow.” But tonight, looking back on the past few weeks, I realize: Dang, I’ve been asking for direction and I think I just felt the hand print of God on the small of my back pushing me that way. And suddenly, in that noticing, I feel two things I haven’t felt in a long while: peaceful and happy.

Will it last? Probably not. Life, and all its feelings, are fleeting. And faith untested really isn’t much faith at all. But I sure hope I can remember this moment when the demons of doubt try to tell me Post-its only come in yellow.

I gave up sugar for Lent. Not all forms, just the obvious ones. I thought this would surely be the biggest sacrifice I could offer, and the area in which I most needed the discipline because I’m addicted to it. I’m a stress eater, I’ve discovered, and the more chocolate in the stress-reducer, the better. I’ve also discovered, in this attempt, that I have very little self discipline. In the 10 days since Ash Wednesday, I’ve broken the fast twice. (Still pretty good for someone who was eating dessert everyday, but somewhat disappointing that I don’t have the gumption to just say no to temptation.)

I’ve got company across the Atlantic I fear, because some bishop’s in Italy asked the faithful in their dioceses to give up texting and iPods for Lent, encouraging them instead to make communication “real.” They apparently are having a very hard time with it. As a mother of a 19 y/old, I can relate: If I gave up texting for Lent I’d be giving up her. So, I guess I’ll stick with chocolate… Talk on the new digital media and the community it creates (or, as some might argue, destroys) is all the rage in Rome as the Vatican called bishops and priests from 82 countries to the Holy See to study the challenges and possibilities posed to evangelization by new communication realities.

Some people might think it odd that the Vatican is looking at this. And they might also think that nothing but a new litany of “thou shalt nots” could be in the offing. I have a little more hope. I personally think some of the always-connected-but-not-really “new media” have a lot of downsides. We’ve morphed from being present to each other to “friending” each other. There are thousands of middle and high schoolers bullied online every day. Then there’s the guy I know who discovered that his wife was having an affair in World of Warcraft and the woman I know who discovered her husband had a not-so-innocent second life in Second Life.

So maybe, in our haste to tweet everyone our latest update (is ANYONE really so important we need to know his/her every thought/action?) or get Linked In with people we hope will help us find a job, we should take a minute to listen to what Rome might say instead of instantly (like an IM, which, as you surely know, is so yesterday) dismissing it because it comes from people we see as hopelessly clueless. And, if you want to hear what they might be discussing, visit the Vatican’s YouTube site.