I think somehow I believed that they would change their minds. If I just kept going, the end wouldn’t come. But there I was packing up the boxes. It was really happening. I mean the lady who was taking my office already told me they promised it to her. No one was going to change their mind. It didn’t matter how many people agreed that it was a bad business decision and that they would regret it. I think that is part of the reason why I didn’t tell a lot of people. I was hoping it wouldn’t actually happen. I guess telling people made it real. If I am honest, it was also a little embarrassing. As much as I was told that it had nothing to do with me and that it was strictly an issue of money, being laid off feels incredibly personal. Maybe if I had somehow been more valuable, my position wouldn’t have been on the chopping block. But here I was, loading the boxes in my car. I would have to wait a few days for my husband to help me get my furniture out. My heart was broken. I had such high hopes for this job.
I was guidance counselor at a small private Christian school. I was able to minister to kids all day. It was a blessing. It came with some challenges. It was never the kids, they were great. But there were some challenges with my administration. Communication wasn’t great, and I knew I was being underutilized. It wasn’t a great feeling. I guess even with the challenges, I had hoped that things could improve. Plus, I got to work down the hall from my daughter. Getting to see her was such a blessing! I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her yet. I am too sad, and I didn’t want to ruin the end of her school year. I will know when the right time is to tell her.
When I found out they were not renewing my position for the next school year, I was devastated. I had a few months left to finish out. I had to figure out how to keep going. I decided that I needed to finish strong. I didn’t do that for the people who let me go. I did it to finish strong for God and for the kids I served. I decided to keep my personal struggle to myself, so that I could still serve the kids I was working with. They didn’t need my pain on top of their own struggles. So I pressed forward. I cried a lot when I was on my own. You see, this happened during the single most difficult season of my life. Not only were these people my bosses, but they were my long time friends and they knew what I had been going through personally. For them to take my job during this season felt cruel. Plus this staff praised themselves for being a “family”. This didn’t feel much like family to me. On second thought, maybe it did. I guess my family experience probably lined up more with this than any idealistic version of family. But I wanted to leave gracefully. I didn’t want to taint anyone else’s experiences that were likely positive.
Closing the door to my beautiful office one last time was so painful. The door did close to that chapter of my life. I think what makes it harder is not knowing what is next. I’m not walking into the next opportunity, instead I am walking into more uncertainty. There is one good thing about uncertainty. It forces you to look to God for guidance and answers. It puts you in a place where you are completely dependent on Him and His provision. That is where I am today. The door is closed. The furniture is moved. So today I rest. So today I heal. Then I allow God to show me what tomorrow brings. There is a lyric to a song that I like and it says that “the darker the night gets, the brighter the light hits.” So I look forward to seeing the light hit, whatever that may be.