It's official. 

I'm an Ambassador.  I even have a nametag with my new status on it.

Training went well and was very informative.  I came out of it with a crate full of materials to disperse; pens and wound measures and pill boxes and booklets and brochures and shirts and hats and bumper stickers and all kinds of other stuff. 

We also found out that each of us was hand-picked.  Out of the 100+ volunteers that the hospice has working for them, only four of us were chosen to represent the hospice as Ambassadors.  That's a hell of a compliment.

I'm going to the National Hospice Conference on Wednesday.  I get to go attend lectures for free, eat breakfast, lunch and an afternoon snack for free, have all my beverages provided free of charge, and on top of it all I get a certificate saying that I attended and credit hours for the lectures.  All I have to do is drive a 40 mile round-trip, which is a relatively small price to pay (oh, and we even get reserved parking and seating). 

I applied for a full-time job in a bookstore last month, and after the interview I found myself secretly hoping that I wouldn't be hired because it wouldn't allow me to do much hospice work.  As it tuns out, I didn't get the job - and then 48 hours later I got the call that offered me the Ambassador job.  I honestly feel that hospice is where I am supposed to be, and I'm hoping that sometime in the not-too-distant future I'll land myself a paying job either with the hospice I'm working for now or related to it in some way.  I have a feeling that's what will happen, anyway, and I'm not very often wrong about my feelings (ask my husband about the Poison Dwarf and how right on I was with my gut feelings about her).

Hospice is where I'm supposed to be, and that feels really good.