In the Midst of Loss

A bouquet of Sunflowers and Zinnias

I was recently laid off from my 11-year employment with a small, family-owned business. The company has been doing poorly for several years, and I had managed to survive numerous layoffs. But not this latest one. I’m not sure the company will make it, but that’s not my problem any more. My problem is unemployment. This is a new experience for me. I’ve never left a job when it wasn’t my choice. Until now.

Prior to this most recent job I worked for the same company for 16 years; when I left that position, it was on my terms and my timing. It was a huge transition in my life; I was 39 years old and had been planning for several years to make a change. I was vice president of development for a large software company. I traveled regularly to India and back and forth between Atlanta and Boston; I was burned up and burned out. I no longer had any passion for the work I was doing, and I dreamed of more rewarding and fulfilling work and a simpler life. When I resigned, I didn’t know what my next move would be. My plan was to rest for 6 months and use that time to figure it out. During that time I did whatever I wanted which included a lot of gardening, walking, reading, and napping. At the end of the 6 month sabbatical, I “chickened out” and took a job doing exactly the same thing I had done before, except in a much worse situation for a horrible Australian man named Simon. My fear got the best of me - fear of failure, fear of making less money, fear of the unknown. Within weeks of taking this new position I knew I had made a mistake. I was uninspired, stressed, and unhappy. I cried a lot and ate tons of the complimentary candy bars available by the baskets-full in the break room. It was 2000, just before the internet bust, and this little internet startup, like many others, used all form of gimmickry to get employees to work long hours. And we know I’ll do pretty much anything for a candy bar. Within four months, I had gained 20 pounds. And my clarity. I had to resign. The future was still unclear, but I was crystal clear on the present – it did not include this job. In hindsight, I’m thankful for the horrible Australian man who made my life miserable and for the know-it-all software engineers who reported to me – who knew nothing really, but thought they knew everything. Had it not been for these characters, I might have stayed longer, might have wasted more time doing work I dreaded, trying to make something out of nothing.

Shortly after leaving the internet startup, I made the decision to return to school (at age 40) to study horticulture. I did a year-long certificate program at Gwinnett Technical College and LOVED every minute of it. I took a part-time job with a wholesale nursery just to get some experience in the green industry and to see how I liked it. When I finished my horticulture studies, my part-time employer offered me a fulltime job. That is where I have spent the last decade. I started in sales; then moved to account management; then to sales forecasting and production planning. I was so-so at sales, really good at account management, and excelled in the analyst position. When I first took the analyst position, I found the work satisfying. But in recent years as the company declined, I felt less enthusiastic. It’s no fun working for a company that is in decline. It’s much more rewarding when things are thriving and expanding. And it is really no fun being told that your position has been eliminated. I know I did good work; I know I made a valuable contribution; I know the company is in a dire situation. But it’s still hard not to take it personally. When you get laid off at age 51, it’s pretty personal.

I’m sure in time I’ll look back on this as another key turning point in my life – one that marked the end of a period that had run its course and the beginning of a new chapter. I am trying not to panic or make any desperate moves. I have the benefit of severance pay, and I have saved for a rainy day. So I’ll be ok. In the moment, I am fine. It’s when I start worrying about what the future holds that I get into trouble. I’m reminded of a quote from a Wayne Dyer lecture that I listened to recently. He said, “You don’t have any problems; you just think you do.” In the moment, everything is fine. I am sitting in my comfy chair at the cabin, early on a Sunday morning. I am drinking coffee and writing. The doors and windows are open, and there is a nice breeze. The birds are singing. My cat, Rudy is sitting at my side watching me type. My dog, Melvin is snoring at my feet. In every direction there are beautiful views of the hardwood forest. I hear the tic, tic, tic of the clock and the hypnotic whirring of the ceiling fan. In this moment, I don’t have any problems. It’s only when I start thinking about what tomorrow may bring that I can conjure up a problem. But when the present moment brings a problem, we always have the tools to deal with it. The day I was laid off, well, that really was a problem. But I got through it. Loss is a part of life; we lose a job or a loved one or our health takes a turn for the worse. But we always have the ability to get through it. God provides. Even in the midst of loss, by staying present and grateful, we will find our way.

In Memory and Stillness

The Store at McCants Mill Pond
Highway 19N
Butler, Georgia

Recently I drove Highway 19 south from Atlanta to Ellaville to attend the funeral of a dear uncle. It was the second time inside a month that I made this trip; three weeks earlier I had attended my grandmother's funeral in the same small town. Funerals and trips back home are ripe with emotion and can quickly get one thinking about the way things used to be. I slowed well below the speed limit as I entered Taylor County, the place where I was born and spent the first 18 years of my life. Highway 19 used to be a lightly traveled two-lane route, but for years now "they" have been expanding it to a divided 4-lane. Miles and miles of a lonely, sparsely traveled four-lane through the heart of rural south Georgia. I wish they had left it like it was. Like it was back when as far I as knew it took you from my home in Butler to Grandma's house to the south and occasionally Aunt Minnie's house to the north. Later as a teenager I learned from my business education teacher, Mrs. Guy that you could take it all the way to the big city of Atlanta. It was on those trips that I got a glimpse of my future and the possibilities available to me.

Highway 19 dissects McCants Mill Pond on the north side of the county before you enter Butler. When I was 3 years old, we rented a house just up the hill from the pond, just a few paces past the country store where you could buy fish bait, co-colas, salted peanuts, and potted meat. My earliest memories are of this home. Faint, vague memories of french doors, hardwood floors, an outbuilding with a dirt floor, and the country store next door. The house is long gone, but the building that was the store still stands. I must have driven by it a hundred times or more in the years since I left home. But on this day, I slowed for a long look. Then decided to circle back and stop to honor this monument from my childhood. I stood for a while in the late morning sun, in memory and stillness. I thought of my little hands on the store's door handle nearly 50 years earlier. I looked up the hill where our house once stood and thought I heard my laughter echo through the pines.

The Door to the McCants Country Store

"I am memory and stillness, I am lonely in old age; I am not your destination

I am clinging to my ways . . ."

From "I am a Town" by Mary Chapin Carpenter