Laid Off!

When my husband, Dennis, first began job hunting, I'd hold my breath as I waited for him to appear at the door, eager for a glimpse of his face to tell me if his day had been a success. But now, 15 months after he became a statistic—one of 300 laid off by his employer of six years—I can tell how his day's gone simply by the way his feet hit the steps leading from the garage into the house. Today his footsteps are heavy, as though he's carrying the weight of the world.

All these months I've watched Dennis stuff hundreds of résumés into the mailbox and pound away at the computer keyboard, courageously sending hundreds more electronically. I've waved good-bye to him as he drives off early in the morning to face another day of approaching unapproachable receptionists at companies that "are not hiring." And greeted his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes upon his return after another unproductive afternoon.

I've seen Dennis lower his expectations, then lower them further. An electronics technician with a sterling work record and more than 20 years' experience in his field, he first sought a comparable job. After a few months, Dennis expanded his search to include entry-level positions in his field, expecting that would do the trick. His wink and nod assured me we'd find a way to get by for a while on the lower salary. But after several weeks went by with no interviews, much less job offers, he began to respond to every job posting for which he was qualified—and, more often than not, overqualified.

The reason I hadn't seen God providing was because his idea of provision is so different than mine.

He then began to be turned away for jobs on a whole different level: gas station attendant, custodian, grocery clerk, and school crossing guard, to name a few. And while I was proud of his willingness to do whatever job it took to put food on the table, it was at that point I became afraid.

My fear stemmed from all the unknowns: What if Dennis doesn't find work soon? How long can we go without his income? What will happen to us when the unemployment insurance expires, or our savings runs dry?

In the beginning, I was Dennis' biggest cheerleader. But the more time goes by, the more discouraged, despondent, and bewildered Dennis becomes. And the more tired I get. I'm tired of saying things I don't even believe anymore, such as, "It's going to be all right," "You'll find something soon," or, "Don't worry, today will be the day."

I dread the inevitable question from concerned friends and family: "Has Dennis found a job yet?" I hate the look on people's faces when they hear of our situation for the first time. And I'm frustrated that my attempts to help have proven equally unfruitful. As a stay-at-home mom with job experience that's six years stale, I'm aware of my inability to compete with people of my husband's caliber for the small pool of available jobs.

Several months ago, Dennis and I thought things were on the upswing when another mom from our church asked her husband to hire me as a temporary employee. We breathed a sigh of relief when I landed the full-time job, which was expected to last up to six months. Five days later, as I was playing with our son, Benjamin, at the park, I broke my hand and required surgery to repair the damage. I had to quit the job and, what's worse, lacking health insurance, we had to pay for the surgery out-of-pocket, setting us back even further financially. Afterwards, I was unemployable for the months it took to heal, and more bewildered than ever by the apparent futility of our financial situation.

I hit rock bottom the day I walked by my husband at the computer and saw a game of Solitaire on the monitor instead of a job website. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"What are you doing?" I wailed. "You're supposed to be looking for a job!"

Not looking up from the screen, he snapped at me over his shoulder. "I'm just taking a break."

Anger and resentment that had simmered for months suddenly bubbled out of me.

"Is this what you do all day when you're supposed to be job hunting?" I accused. "No wonder you still haven't found a job!"

More unkind words spilled out of my mouth, and even when Dennis swiveled around in his chair to face me with pain in his eyes, I couldn't stop. I finally was quiet when he said bitterly, "This is your idea of support? You're supposed to be encouraging me!"

His words rang in my ears long after our fight, each time followed by my unuttered reply: Oh yeah? Well, who's encouraging me?

All through this nightmare, I'd prayed for God's provision for our family. But with each passing week, I wondered what was taking so long. Why isn't God answering any of my prayers?

I cried out to God again from my position at rock bottom. Looking up out of my window, waiting expectantly for an answer, I noticed a flock of blackbirds glide across the clear blue sky. A familiar Bible verse came to me, as if whispered on their wings: "Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable are you than birds!" (Luke 12:23-24).

I thought about the birds. And I began to look at my situation with fresh eyes. Then it struck me: God's been providing, all right. The reason I hadn't seen it before was because God's idea of provision is so different than mine. I'd been waiting for God to provide my husband a job. But instead, he's given us an opportunity to assess what's important and what isn't. He's stopped us in our tracks to take a look at ourselves and learn.

We've tightened our belts, done without frivolous things, and even done without things that aren't frivolous. I've watched our bank account drain away to dollars and change with nothing to show for it except meeting basic needs. At first it was painful, but now it's gotten easier. I'm grateful when I remember we once had more than enough, and I entertain the hope we will again someday.

God's provision has been time: a season for our son Benjamin to be with his father; one that, at five, he may not consciously remember, but that I know has shaped his character nonetheless. Dennis has read to him, painstakingly taught him to play chess, ride a bike without training wheels, and master pinball and foosball. Our son's had the opportunity to see

his father's perseverance in action. Benjamin's learned by example how to weather disappointment, and how to pitch in and encourage each other. And he's had

the privilege to pray earnestly for a job for his father.

God's provision has included a crash course in humility. When I had my hand surgery, some friends brought over dinner and groceries. Later, we opened the card they'd included; it contained a generous gift certificate for the local supermarket. I expected my proud husband to refuse it politely, but instead witnessed him sit down at the kitchen table and write them a heartfelt note of thanks.

And I've been humbled as well. The other night I sat with a frozen smile as an acquaintance, face aglow, told me her husband just was handed his dream job on a silver platter. She gushed about how it was an answer to their prayers, until I felt as though I was the unloved stepsister of fairy-tale lore. Even as bitter tears wet my pillow later, I was keenly aware of clean sheets, a full stomach, and a roof over my head. That night I committed to memory another lesson about provision: While it may not seem equitable, you have to trust God gives you exactly what you need.

I don't know whether we have weeks, months, or perhaps even years more to go in this trial. I don't know if we'll have to move away from a hometown we love so Dennis can find work. I don't know if there's a full-time career out there with my name on it. But when I dwell on all God has provided, I find the answers to questions I didn't know to ask.

First, I know what it means to live on a wing and a prayer. Because it's clear how God's provided for us so far, I can trust him for tomorrow. It doesn't mean I'm still not afraid, just that now I'm giving my fears to God.

I know I'll never again take a job, health benefits, or unemployment insurance for granted. And I now know that wealth has nothing to do with your income, your job title, or what you can buy at a store. Wealth is being surrounded by those you love, secure in your future not because of a bank balance, but because of the One who loves you.

Above all, I understand more fully Jesus' statement, "How much more valuable are you than birds!" Birds can fly, but they can't cry out to God, hear his answer, or learn to be grateful for suffering. Though I stand here flightless and jobless, I know God's estimation of my value: priceless.

Laurie Jackson, a freelance writer, lives with her family in Colorado.

A Woman's Work

By Holly Vicente Robaina

Unemployment often is viewed as a man's problem. But what about when it happens to you?

My husband, Ricardo, and I both have gone through periods of unemployment, and we've each dealt with the loss differently. While Ricardo's job plays a huge role in his identity, for me, a job is just one small role. I clung to my roles as wife, daughter, and friend during times when my "employee" role was gone. And the loss I felt wasn't so much for the job itself as for the benefits I'd gotten from it: a regular schedule of stuff to do, people to interact with every day, and a sense of contribution.

Here are a few tips for women facing unemployment— from one who's been there.Â

Keep a schedule. Boredom was my Enemy No. 1. On Monday mornings, I'd make a list of activities including job hunting, chores, errands, exercise, Bible reading, and hobbies—enough stuff to keep me busy all week. I kept a regular bedtime so I wouldn't be tempted to sleep all day. I also kept the television off during the daytime so I wouldn't be distracted from my "work."

While job hunting certainly is a priority, varying your activities is essential. The first time I found myself unemployed, during my single days, I made the mistake of job hunting all day, every day. It made sense at the time: I had lots of bills to pay and zero income. But this strategy quickly caused burn-out and depression, which made my job search much more difficult. It really raised my spirits when I decided to …

Take up an (inexpensive) hobby. Conscious of money matters, I looked for low-cost and no-cost ways to have fun. So when I was single (and thinking about every penny I spent), I found plenty of free entertainment by visiting the library or sightseeing in my local historic district. Take advantage of this time—some museums and tours offer reduced prices or even free admission during weekdays. Town halls or visitors' centers often have free guidebooks with a list of these.

During my second bout with unemployment, I had my husband's income to lean on. So I decided to try something I'd long been curious about: artistic painting. After an initial investment of $7 for brushes and paints, I found I could make beautiful paintings for about $3 each. Creating art for our home gave me a sense of accomplishment—something I sorely missed from my working days.

A full schedule with fun elements kept me busy enough. But it certainly couldn't replace my need to …

Interact with others. When Ricardo lost his job, there were few people with whom he wanted to share his burden. I was just the opposite: I told everybody. I spent more time on the phone with friends, and would seize any opportunity to interact with others.

We women thrive on friendships and communication. It's important to find the sense of community you miss from a job by plugging into more social activities at church, volunteering, or just talking with your friends.

It's also important to share your physical needs. At one point, when I was single and unemployed, I didn't have a scrap of food to eat and was about to be evicted. I was afraid that if I told my family and friends, they'd think I was irresponsible or even refuse to help. Hunger finally won out over embarrassment. As soon as I shared my needs, one person immediately offered to pay my rent, and others bought groceries for me.

Family and friends offered so much support. Ultimately, though, my greatest comfort came when I would …

Pray. It's surprisingly easy to pray when you have tons of time and no one else to talk to. I desperately wanted God's companionship. At first, I cried out to him about my loneliness, begging him to fill it with friendships, activities, a job. But as I felt him comforting me, my perspective changed. I became grateful for the solitude because it allowed me to talk to God nonstop. I saw evidence of his provision every day. Pretty soon, I stopped asking God to change my circumstances and started thanking him for this time of spiritual renewal.