Sort of.

My father asked me yesterday if I had made any resolutions for 2009, and honestly, I have not.  My life has been on an emotional roller coaster for most of 2008, and I have been so focused on this ‘ride’ that I have not allowed myself to focus on the big picture, or even 2009.  I’m focused on the next four weeks.

2008 has been a very tumultuous year for everybody, including me.  The first half of the year was consumed with one rumor after the next about the future of the company I worked for.  Then, in August, right it middle of my first real vacation in five years, right on Haley’s birthday, I get the text message:  my company’s been acquired.  I found out when I returned that our new owners were graciously extending six month employment contracts to those of us seen in supporting roles while they determined what our futures would be.  That contract ends in four weeks, and I’ve been told that there will not be a position for me with the company going forward.  In the fifteen minutes invested in learning what it is that I have or could contribute to the company, they were able to determine that they didn’t need me.

On one hand, this does bruise the ego a bit.  I think of all that I’ve accomplished over the past four years, the knowledge I’ve acquired, the plans I have and the potential I bring, all of that has been ascribed a very expendible value to the new organization.  Frankly, it hurts a bit, but I learned my lesson a long time ago: No one (not even ME) is irreplaceable.

As I have been processing all of this over the past few months, I recognize many of the same emotions associated with grief: shock, pain, anger, depression, and hope.  I am grieving over this job that’s ending in four weeks.  I’m sad for all of the untapped potential left on the table.  I’m angry that some have been offered the opportunity to continue with the company.  I’m depressed because it seems my ‘value’ was determined with little to no effort by the new company.  And yet, I have hope.

Hope has been the hardest to hold on to.  The timing of this couldn’t be any worse: every day I hear news of how our national economy has hit another low comparable to the Great Depression.  As the sole ‘bread winner’ of my family, this is the worse possible time to be out of work.  Frankly, without my income, my family will be forced down a path that no one ever wishes for their family, and yet, I have hope.  I have to have hope.  My sleepless nights and most of my days are filled with prayer, clinging to hope.  My entire life I have professed a faith that I have tried to guide my life by.  Lately, that faith is being tested like never before, and it is a scary, painful process.  I’m being forced to put my money where my mouth is, so to speak.  Jeremiah 29:11 says

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Right now I am clinging to that promise because I simply must.  For the past six months I have been walking down a path that leads to a very unpleasant door, one that I no desire to walk through.  I’ve been on this path before, back in 2001, and I had to walk through that door, and I did not like it one bit.  I resent being in this spot yet again, but this time the stakes are even higher. I have been working my tail off to find an alternative to that door, and to this point, none have surfaced.  I know that my plans for the future and my definition of ‘harm’ may be quite different from that of the One who has made the plans for me.  I think it is that difference that scares me the most.  After all, financial devastation will most likely not physically harm me, but I imagine it won’t be too good for my emotional well-being, or that of my family.

So, I’m on a journey.  One that will drastically change one way or another within the next four weeks.  I am both hopeful and excited on one hand, and scared and worried on the other hand to see what unfolds.  This is the roller coaster that is my life, and I’m ready for a new ride.