I hit a few rough spots yesterday... like when my husband dropped me off for work and when I had to delete his work email from my address book and when my colleague gave me a big hug (I only work once a week, so the last time I saw her was before everything happened).
When people ask me how I'm doing, if I'm not doing well, I usually respond with "OK" before my lip quivers and my eyes well up with tears. But those moments have decreased a bit over the last few days, and the Lord has given us much to be happy about.
...like the fact that we were able to enjoy a breakfast date at Starbucks after we dropped our exchange student off at school this morning, because today is free pastry day! (Thank you, Starbucks!) We even got our drinks for free, because a very kind friend decided to bless us with a gift card.
So instead of responding with "OK," I can smile and answer, "Right now... I'm good."
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
"a wonder to many"
One of the "luxuries" of unemployment is the feeling that everyday is like a Saturday. In fact, it was difficult for me to remember which day of the week it was, because we spent this first week regrouping-- sleeping in, working on projects that had been on the back burner for too long (such as unpacking the boxes in the garage), and spending time with friends.
A couple days after my husband was laid off, we were doing just that-- we slept in and read the Bible together before getting up for the day. That morning, we read Psalm 71:
As I told a friend at church today, "God's grace has been so great this week. We are in a good place-- a very hard place, but good. It was just a job-- not our security."
So allow me to try paraphrasing again...
___________________________
"Let my mouth be filled with Your praise and with Your glory all the day." (Psalm 71:8)
A couple days after my husband was laid off, we were doing just that-- we slept in and read the Bible together before getting up for the day. That morning, we read Psalm 71:
"I have become as a wonder to many, but You are my strong refuge." (Psalm 71:7 NKJV)I wondered what the word "wonder" meant. I wasn't so sure it was a positive term, especially if "You are my strong refuge" immediately followed it. If I were to paraphrase it, it would have sounded a bit like this:
"Everyone is talking about me (behind my back?), but I will seek protection from You."Not exactly encouraging. So I looked up the words "wonder" and "refuge" in the Strong's Concordance, and this is what I got...
WONDER [4159]: wonder (as a special display of God's power), sign, token (of future event). (Used in Exodus for the plagues against Egypt.)Hmm... danger of falsehood? Why falsehood? The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized that my greatest struggle this past week was the fight to believe what is true. When my emotions were hard to control, it was a constant battle to remember Who God is and where we as believers find our true sense of security.
REFUGE [4268] from rain or storm, from danger of falsehood
As I told a friend at church today, "God's grace has been so great this week. We are in a good place-- a very hard place, but good. It was just a job-- not our security."
So allow me to try paraphrasing again...
"You have chosen me to be a living demonstration of Your power. You will shield me from the lies of the enemy, because You are the Truth."Not a bad reason to be talked about.
___________________________
"Let my mouth be filled with Your praise and with Your glory all the day." (Psalm 71:8)
Saturday, March 20, 2010
"do something fun..."
Post-employment advice #1 (from Papa): "Do something fun."
What Papa had in mind when he gave me this bit of advice was that we go out for a meal or take a trip somewhere fun. So Friday afternoon, we packed an overnight bag and drove out to the "sticks" of Oklahoma, where my husband dropped me off at the home of one of his former colleagues (one of the directors in the company), while he took our exchange student to motorcycle safety school.
It wasn't the typical weekend trip, because we ended spending much of it apart from each other. While my husband sat through lectures on horrible bike accidents and practiced doing figure eights in a church parking lot, I got a taste of life with eight kids. We spent hours in the kitchen, talking about their perspective on the week (and how they braced for possible lay-off), swapping stories about our families, making homemade ice cream, playing games, and cutting hair (they were brave to hand me the scissors).
It was therapeutic to live life with someone else, to hear how they survived unemployment in the past, and to recognize that one of life's most precious resources is not money but the people who weather the storms with you, who not only cry with you but help you to trust and to laugh no matter what the circumstance.
And laugh we did-- even after they begged my husband to perform some of his songs for the fifth time. As I watched him play "one last time" with just as much gusto as the first, I couldn't help smiling-- and thanking God for blessing me with a man who knows how to trust... and laugh... and love.
What Papa had in mind when he gave me this bit of advice was that we go out for a meal or take a trip somewhere fun. So Friday afternoon, we packed an overnight bag and drove out to the "sticks" of Oklahoma, where my husband dropped me off at the home of one of his former colleagues (one of the directors in the company), while he took our exchange student to motorcycle safety school.
It wasn't the typical weekend trip, because we ended spending much of it apart from each other. While my husband sat through lectures on horrible bike accidents and practiced doing figure eights in a church parking lot, I got a taste of life with eight kids. We spent hours in the kitchen, talking about their perspective on the week (and how they braced for possible lay-off), swapping stories about our families, making homemade ice cream, playing games, and cutting hair (they were brave to hand me the scissors).
It was therapeutic to live life with someone else, to hear how they survived unemployment in the past, and to recognize that one of life's most precious resources is not money but the people who weather the storms with you, who not only cry with you but help you to trust and to laugh no matter what the circumstance.
And laugh we did-- even after they begged my husband to perform some of his songs for the fifth time. As I watched him play "one last time" with just as much gusto as the first, I couldn't help smiling-- and thanking God for blessing me with a man who knows how to trust... and laugh... and love.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
the wall
A unique characteristic of the company my husband worked for was their strong sense of community. It wasn't just a work place. It was a family. That's what made the cuts even more painful.
I know that most people don't work in that kind of environment. Perhaps for most people, what follows the cut is alienation and therefore an intense sense of loneliness. I must confess, however, that even with the tight-knit community at my husband's company, it was just as easy to project the same kind of wall in my heart.
When my husband's supervisor-- and our good friend-- dropped him off at work that fateful day, the last thing I wanted to do was see someone who hadn't been cut. Why my husband? Why not you? Yet I knew in my mind that it wasn't his decision. It wasn't even what the company wanted to do. So when he looked at my swollen eyes and asked, "So...are we still friends?" I blinked back tears, swallowed hard and answered, "Yes, of course."
Yesterday evening, we had several friends over, because our exchange student wanted to cook them a Chinese meal. That group included my husband's former supervisor, his wife and child. When we introduced them to our friends from church who didn't know about the lay-off, I found myself struggling to switch from the usual, "He's my husband's supervisor" to-- to what? My husband came to the rescue with "Actually, we didn't want this to be too awkward, but we worked together-- until yesterday."
Sometimes embracing awkwardness is the best step towards normalcy. Because my husband has an amazing ability to shrug things off, we had our friends over last night, he encouraged me to go watch a movie with another friend this afternoon, and then we spent the evening watching an amazing Round 1 of March Madness.
By engaging deliberately with people who also felt that same awkwardness, but from the other side, I am finding the courage to step out of my natural protective instinct and restore that sense of community we valued before.
I know that most people don't work in that kind of environment. Perhaps for most people, what follows the cut is alienation and therefore an intense sense of loneliness. I must confess, however, that even with the tight-knit community at my husband's company, it was just as easy to project the same kind of wall in my heart.
When my husband's supervisor-- and our good friend-- dropped him off at work that fateful day, the last thing I wanted to do was see someone who hadn't been cut. Why my husband? Why not you? Yet I knew in my mind that it wasn't his decision. It wasn't even what the company wanted to do. So when he looked at my swollen eyes and asked, "So...are we still friends?" I blinked back tears, swallowed hard and answered, "Yes, of course."
Yesterday evening, we had several friends over, because our exchange student wanted to cook them a Chinese meal. That group included my husband's former supervisor, his wife and child. When we introduced them to our friends from church who didn't know about the lay-off, I found myself struggling to switch from the usual, "He's my husband's supervisor" to-- to what? My husband came to the rescue with "Actually, we didn't want this to be too awkward, but we worked together-- until yesterday."
Sometimes embracing awkwardness is the best step towards normalcy. Because my husband has an amazing ability to shrug things off, we had our friends over last night, he encouraged me to go watch a movie with another friend this afternoon, and then we spent the evening watching an amazing Round 1 of March Madness.
By engaging deliberately with people who also felt that same awkwardness, but from the other side, I am finding the courage to step out of my natural protective instinct and restore that sense of community we valued before.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
crying for two
For the past couple of weeks, we've been hearing rumblings of "budget constraints" and "work force reduction." When my husband came home on Monday with news that the inevitable would take place over the next week, it began to hit me for the first time.
So when I kissed my husband good-bye yesterday morning, I didn't know if he'd come home with a job or not. Even so, he turned before he got in the car, smiled and waved at me optimistically... and then he was gone.
I went about my business trying not to think about what could happen. But when I heard the song I had chosen for his ring tone in the late afternoon, my heart sank.
I answered as cheerfully as I could and asked how he was doing. "OK," he responded before breaking the news to me. It wasn't long before I couldn't hold back the flood of tears anymore.
When we hung up, I braced myself against the desk and cried. Pain. Disappointment. Fear. Shame. Pride. Anger. Helplessness. The worst part was not the lack of job security but the fact that I wasn't there to hold him and comfort him when it happened.
That night, I sat on the bed playing my guitar while my husband answered a couple calls from family and friends. I was fine till they asked how I was holding up. I tried to grin bravely, while tears splashed off my face and onto the guitar.
Seventeen months ago, I made a vow to love this man for richer or poorer, for better or worse. I didn't know then how it might feel or how soon I'd experience it or what it would look like. Today, it means crying for the two of us.
So when I kissed my husband good-bye yesterday morning, I didn't know if he'd come home with a job or not. Even so, he turned before he got in the car, smiled and waved at me optimistically... and then he was gone.
I went about my business trying not to think about what could happen. But when I heard the song I had chosen for his ring tone in the late afternoon, my heart sank.
I answered as cheerfully as I could and asked how he was doing. "OK," he responded before breaking the news to me. It wasn't long before I couldn't hold back the flood of tears anymore.
When we hung up, I braced myself against the desk and cried. Pain. Disappointment. Fear. Shame. Pride. Anger. Helplessness. The worst part was not the lack of job security but the fact that I wasn't there to hold him and comfort him when it happened.
That night, I sat on the bed playing my guitar while my husband answered a couple calls from family and friends. I was fine till they asked how I was holding up. I tried to grin bravely, while tears splashed off my face and onto the guitar.
Seventeen months ago, I made a vow to love this man for richer or poorer, for better or worse. I didn't know then how it might feel or how soon I'd experience it or what it would look like. Today, it means crying for the two of us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)