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.