I’ve lost my job! They’re not renewing my contract! What’ll I do! That was the scream inside my mind on that freaky Friday as the assistant principal closed the door behind her, and with sad eyes said, “There’s really no easy way to say this.”
A chill went through me—top to toes. Then, I recalled a staff meeting a couple of months back when the principal had said something about making cuts, but I never thought I would be one of them. I was grateful now that I hadn’t spent a single moment worrying about it.
In shock, I said, “Wow! I am completely blind-sided. Never saw this coming. I mean, nine people were hired after me. I thought I was safe.”
“Well, we’re making some changes,” she said with a weak smile.
Then, I blurted out, “I hope it’s not anything I’ve done.”
“No, no!” she said as she sat at her paper-free desk. “We won’t be replacing you. We just need to spread out personnel to fill the positions of those we let go.”
Hmmm, I thought. Let go! Now there’s a confusing statement. Doesn’t that imply that I want to go, so they are letting me? Hmmm.
I exited her office spouting the philosophical phrase, “Well, when one door closes another one opens. I truly believe that.”
“I love your attitude!” She looked me in the eye and smiled. This time it was genuine.
I went home that day with the numbness that follows gut-wrenching news. Of little comfort was the fact that I was not alone. This tsunami had already swept in and carried away a few, but it wouldn’t subside until at least fifteen teachers and staff members had joined me in a boat set sail for the door.
I spent the weekend twirling in an emotional whirlpool—grieving over the children I would no longer get to hug and help, mentally wringing my hands over income and insurance lost, journaling away my confusion, anger and self-pity and crying out to God, “Why me?”
He didn’t leave me in that sea of despair for long. His answer came floating in on a brilliant ray of hope. “Why not you? Don’t you know I’ve got this? I’m going to open doors that only I can open—doors that only you can walk through. Just wait.”
Now, as I’m writing this one of my favorite scriptures is flooding over me:
Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? There it is!
I’m making a road through the desert, rivers in the badlands.
(Isaiah 43:18-19 – The Message)
Watching Him Work
Inside the sacred place where peace reigns, I am breathing a sigh of relief. Ahhhh. God’s got this! He knows me. He knows my needs. I look forward to watching Him work the miraculous. Yes, fleeting moments of angst may come and go, but my faith has the final say, and it says, “God IS Big! Bigger, so, so much BIGGER than THIS!” So, here goes!
Listen. Can you hear it? That’s me singing, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat…”