Meditations on Being Laid Off

I lost my job. I'm not needed anymore. Apparently I did such a good job I made myself redundant. Even though I tried not to, I find that I had based a lot of my identity in that role, so now I face the need to reinvent myself.

Don't worry about me starving; I have a source of income, but it's just a way to pay for what's important. What's important has become the question. What do I do with myself now?

My old job was simple and complicated: Get two small human beings ready to go off into the world and take care of themselves. In the beginning they were completely dependent on adult care, so the job was simple if exhausting. As they grew, it became much more complex; it was necessary to navigate external forces as well as genes, hormones, and personalities. But I think we did it well. So in the last few years, it was becoming clear that my time in this career was short. Finally, I was let go.

When they were small I was their caretaker. As they get bigger, I became pastor, teacher, and coach. And now? They don't need those things any more. But if you did your job well, they will still hire you as a consultant on occasion.

It became really complicated when the first one left the house. Suddenly I had half the job. It was discombobulating to still have a teaching role in one life but being demoted to consultant in the other. It was easy to lose track of which was which, to try to teach the wrong kid. Now it's simpler in a lot of ways — consultant times two.

Now I have to mind my place. I can offer them free advice, but they'd rather I kept it to myself unless asked. Even when I'm absolutely sure my advice is right, interjecting seems to endanger future consulting. Things may change later, but it's a delicate thing at this point.

OK, yes, I still can exert a measure of control. I'm largely paying for their current lifestyles. But that tool has to be lightly used, or I fear they will be much less inclined to hire me as a consultant in the future. No, that will have to be a "break glass in case of emergency" tool, and I'll just have to learn to accept my new role.

But that role is not a full-time job. So what should I do with the extra time?

My former co-worker and I used to have a lot of fun together before we had that job. Perhaps now we can revive that old relationship.

Maybe my experience will make me a useful consultant to other people as well; apparently there are a lot of kids in our local schools who need just such a consultant. I suppose it's possible I might even find a new job similar to my old one. My co-worker and I worked well together, so maybe we can go into that.

But most of all, I need to learn to see myself as something other than this former career. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens" (Ecc 3:1). It may be that the season for this kind of work has passed. Who else can I be? How else can I serve? The questions are both exciting and terrifying. But the world is full of potential. And maybe, just maybe, I am, too.


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