It was seven years ago yesterday when my phone rang as I'd just made it home from work. I drove back before Eric because he had something extra to do. Usually we'd be together. But I needed groceries and he needed to stay, so it was decided that we'd ride separately the hour to work.
We were still riding high that his band had just made it to the state contest. We had both worked so hard, and it seemed the first-year-in-a-new-school roughness was out of the way. Even with a ginormous pay cut and the risk of teaching with no contract, this was turning out pretty sweet.
As I put away groceries, the phone rang. Should be Eric on his way home. Everything seemed to perfect with Ryan coming in just three months! I was ready to sit down and rest my pregnant back, so the phone call wasn't a problem.
Then I answered.
He told me through sobs to sit down.
"He fired me, honey."
The words seemed too large for my ears.
"I'm to have my office cleaned out by Monday."
But this couldn't be! He just had so much success. He was doing what they said they wanted. We were the victims of what the other employees at the school called "spring cleaning." "Doesn't matter what kind of job you're doing," they told us, "he just likes to be able to do this."
It mattered not that we had given up tons to be able to work there. The fact that I did a job that I'd never done for a meager pittance didn't matter. None of it mattered. We were unwanted, for whatever reason (we think it came down to money in his mind), and that was that.
It was the height of unfairness. How would we pay for Ryan's birth? Did I still have a job? How do we make the mortgage payment? Could I handle working in administration with the very man who hurt my husband in this manner? So many questions. So much blinding pain and disappointment.
The next Monday, I did go back to work. I was asked to meet with the man who just emotionally slaughtered my husband. He wanted to make himself feel better, I guess... to give me a chance to verbally abuse him a bit in return. His own pious little penance, I suppose. As I spoke, calmly and measured, he looked out the window behind me. He did not care a button for what he had just done to us. To this day I am thankful that I did not lose my cool with him.
As I made my way back to the sad, dilapidated little rock house that was our office, the ladies I worked with surrounded me with love again, and one of them taught me one of the best lessons I would ever learn.
Celebrate.
Yes, celebrate! Thank God for the way he's already worked this to our good and his glory. Feel the pain, deal with the pain, but rest in the fact that this did not shock him off the throne.
Out of this lesson, Providence Day was born. It's our own little holiday. It's a day we celebrate God's providence in our lives by reminding our children and those who are with us of how much God has brought us through. In so many times since February 25, 2005, we've looked back and been comforted by our heritage of things survived. We want our children to have the same comfort. We want them to be aware of God's care and love for them in this way.
While I still would not thank Mr. H, the headmaster of that private school, for his dark deed, I am thankful. I am thankful for the lessons learned, not the least of which was to never work without a contract again. Most of all, I am thankful beyond measure for the lesson that faith thanks God for rescuing us when we're still at the bottom of the pit.
So, a day late, Happy Providence Day! May you feel the love, grace, and mercy of Christ today as you go about your day.
Thanks be to God!!!
We were still riding high that his band had just made it to the state contest. We had both worked so hard, and it seemed the first-year-in-a-new-school roughness was out of the way. Even with a ginormous pay cut and the risk of teaching with no contract, this was turning out pretty sweet.
As I put away groceries, the phone rang. Should be Eric on his way home. Everything seemed to perfect with Ryan coming in just three months! I was ready to sit down and rest my pregnant back, so the phone call wasn't a problem.
Then I answered.
He told me through sobs to sit down.
"He fired me, honey."
The words seemed too large for my ears.
"I'm to have my office cleaned out by Monday."
But this couldn't be! He just had so much success. He was doing what they said they wanted. We were the victims of what the other employees at the school called "spring cleaning." "Doesn't matter what kind of job you're doing," they told us, "he just likes to be able to do this."
It mattered not that we had given up tons to be able to work there. The fact that I did a job that I'd never done for a meager pittance didn't matter. None of it mattered. We were unwanted, for whatever reason (we think it came down to money in his mind), and that was that.
It was the height of unfairness. How would we pay for Ryan's birth? Did I still have a job? How do we make the mortgage payment? Could I handle working in administration with the very man who hurt my husband in this manner? So many questions. So much blinding pain and disappointment.
The next Monday, I did go back to work. I was asked to meet with the man who just emotionally slaughtered my husband. He wanted to make himself feel better, I guess... to give me a chance to verbally abuse him a bit in return. His own pious little penance, I suppose. As I spoke, calmly and measured, he looked out the window behind me. He did not care a button for what he had just done to us. To this day I am thankful that I did not lose my cool with him.
As I made my way back to the sad, dilapidated little rock house that was our office, the ladies I worked with surrounded me with love again, and one of them taught me one of the best lessons I would ever learn.
Celebrate.
Yes, celebrate! Thank God for the way he's already worked this to our good and his glory. Feel the pain, deal with the pain, but rest in the fact that this did not shock him off the throne.
Out of this lesson, Providence Day was born. It's our own little holiday. It's a day we celebrate God's providence in our lives by reminding our children and those who are with us of how much God has brought us through. In so many times since February 25, 2005, we've looked back and been comforted by our heritage of things survived. We want our children to have the same comfort. We want them to be aware of God's care and love for them in this way.
While I still would not thank Mr. H, the headmaster of that private school, for his dark deed, I am thankful. I am thankful for the lessons learned, not the least of which was to never work without a contract again. Most of all, I am thankful beyond measure for the lesson that faith thanks God for rescuing us when we're still at the bottom of the pit.
So, a day late, Happy Providence Day! May you feel the love, grace, and mercy of Christ today as you go about your day.
Thanks be to God!!!
Crystal, you are such an amazing writer. I loved the phrase: "The words were too big for my ears." Perfect.
ReplyDeleteAnd what a great personal holiday - He meant it for evil, but God meant it for good. *hugs*