It’s a peculiar feeling, today.
I’ve deleted all my email, loaded my car, shipped my files and changed my voice mail to notify customers “I am no longer an active employee.”
I have nothing to do.
It’s 1:51 in the afternoon, only 13 percent power remains on my laptop battery, I have no unread items in my Google Reader and the meeting with HR is not until 2:30.
Again, I have nothing to do.
The thing about knowing for the better part of a year that today was coming is that the emotion has already been spent. The contemplation has already been done. I just need my paperwork and a place to turn in my key.
For, I have nothing to do.
::
Last Sunday, my family met my pastor and his wife here late in the afternoon. He’d asked me occasionally over the past several years if I would give him a tour of the building, a local landmark. It’s not every little town on the South Dakota prairie that has a seven story building stretching up in its landscape.
My boys had never been to the seventh floor either, so we made a family event of it. Looking down from seven stories changes perspective. Instead of seeing a single building before us, we see the structures, landmarks, trees and parks in context with the rest of the community.
The view from the top also affords another perspective I can’t see on the ground: we’re at the bottom of the bowl. Once buildings and trees don’t block the view, I can see the coteau lining the horizon and the highway running downhill to the bottom of this basin.
At the bottom, I can’t see that I’m in a valley.
At the top, I can.
It seems to me that this should mean something profound.
But I’m all contemplated out.
::
We wound up our little tour in the cafeteria on the second floor. His voice hushed in the late afternoon shadows, Pastor Dennis asked, “Could we have prayer here, in the cafeteria?”
Of course we could. So there in the space where sleepy workers find their caffeine injections in the morning and a hot meal at noon, we six found one another’s hands around a little table for four.
Where coworkers enjoy lunchtime conversation with each other, we enjoyed some conversation with the Father. We reminded Him of our story, the one He already knows so well.
And as Pastor Dennis spoke aloud, God spoke in the quiet, reminding us of His story.
The one we already know so well.
The story of His faithfulness.
::
Today, as I wait, with nothing to do, well-wishing colleagues stop by. It’s awkward for them, talking to those of us departing today. Some of them will be here a few more months. Others a few more years. Nobody knows for sure anymore.
Awkward, yes. But it gives me a chance to tell that story again, that story of His faithfulness.
My need is no greater, my circumstance no more dire than theirs.
And His faithfulness to each of us remains as steadfast as it was a week ago. A year ago.
A lifetime ago.
::
Contracts distributed, terms defined, keys surrendered, and thank yous for years of service expressed, we gather at local establishment for happy hour.
It’s an ironic way to mark the end of an era for a local business. Indeed, for a community. Folks who’ve spent the whole of their adult lives working side by side in the same building part ways. I’m the short-timer, rubbing shoulders with those who have decades of history here.
Sipping my Pepsi (had to get that in), I’m asked again. The same question posed countless times over hours and days and weeks and months.
What will you do now?
My answer remains the same: I will wait on God. He hasn’t failed me yet.
I don’t suppose He’ll change His ways anytime soon.
And so continues this new chapter in the story of His great faithfulness.
::
Related posts:
Peace with a Massive Wingspan
A Certain Uncertainty
The Making of a Detour
I‘m Glad We Didn’t Build a Storehouse
24 responses so far ↓
Dad // 2009/10/29 at 9:45 PM |
Lula:
Pastor Dennis has one upped me. In a little under nine years, I never had occasion to be be in that seven story building. I served clients who worked there, from executives on down to staff people, but never got past the front door.
Memories aside, as I read your current posting, the words of one of my favorite hymns kept running through my mind. Since we seldom sing hymns in church anymore (we’ve adopted the contemporary music model for worship), I rely on my memory for the many hymns that I have sung and memorized over the years.
Great is Thy faithfulness, O god my Father!
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou has been Thou forever wilt be.
Great is Thy faithfulness, Great is Thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided,
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.
God is faithful. God will provide. And your dependence and reliance on His faithfulness inspires me.
Dad
Dad // 2009/10/29 at 9:47 PM |
Hey Lyla:
I really do know how to spell your name.
Dad
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/10/29 at 9:51 PM |
Thanks Dad, as always. This hymn, I know it well.
You know, I can edit your comments and repair your typos for you. But this one cracks me up. I think I’ll leave it be.
On this of all days, my dad misspells my name.
I love that.
Jennifer@More Than Adam's Rib // 2009/10/29 at 10:27 PM |
God has your name inscribed on the palms of His hands. He knows you, Lyla. He knows the tightrope of faith He’s asking you to walk. And those are usually some of the most precious steps you’ll walk, those that require total faith.
At crossroads like these, I’ve always asked God what huge thing He was about to do to glorify His name. And it’s usually something more awesome than I can imagine. I pray He has something truly awesome in store for you.
Jennifer @ GDWJ // 2009/10/29 at 10:38 PM |
I sit here at a screen, and the cursor blinks back. I don’t even know what to say. Speechless…
As I read those words — “I will wait” — I think of how strength rises as we wait upon the Lord. May you sense it rising up in you … there in the wait.
You are a remarkable woman, Lyla, ministering to us even in the midst of your own struggle.
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/10/30 at 7:32 AM |
Jennifer @ MTJAR – That’s a good question to ask. I’m convinced He’s always up to something. We just don’t always realize that. It’s good for us to have circumstances that push us to ask and look and see.
And Jennifer @ GDWJ – It does rise, I can promise you that. When we wait instead of all the other things we can do that start with W, He builds the strength to wait some more. What’s remarkable is how He does that. Keeps blowing me away.
Thanks to both of you for you encouragement and prayers. I appreciate you.
Betty // 2009/10/30 at 4:41 PM |
Through your own difficulty and example of reliance on God for ALL your needs you are ministering to me and reminding me of the faithfulness of our God during what is a challenging time in our lives as well. Thank you my friend! You are amazing!
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/10/30 at 7:19 PM |
Funny, I honestly believe it’s the folks just like you who are teaching me to do this moment to moment. That’s what’s pretty amazing. And I thank you for that. We’re praying. A lot.
Julie // 2009/10/31 at 8:27 AM |
What to say but what has already been said? What to do but what your already doing? God is faithful and he will bring you to right where He wants you to be…but you already knew that.
This reminds me of one of my favorite verses in Isaiah..
“But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
Embrace this time of waiting (trying as it may be) knowing that it in the end your stength in Him will be renewed.
And I cannot NOT say something about Lula-this cracks me up! At first I am thinking oops someone mispelled her name…but I had to snicker when I looked asd saw it was “Dad”. And now that I know you can fix my typos…I won’t have to proofread before I submit!!!
Keep smiling….keep waiting…and rest.
Much love,
Julie
Julie // 2009/10/31 at 8:28 AM |
p.s looks like I didn’t proofread anyway-lol
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/10/31 at 9:39 AM |
Julie, you encourage me . . . and make me laugh. Thanks for that!
mom // 2009/10/31 at 10:06 AM |
Lyla:
This time I got it right. Your granddad commented on your patience in waiting on God for the answer. He said the toughest part, apart from the waiting, would be in recognizing the answer. It means being tuned into God and in our impatience, we may listening on AM when we should be on FM.
Dad at your mom’s laptop.
Debby // 2009/10/31 at 2:57 PM |
Ahh…beautiful! I’ve seen you around in blog world, decided to check you out in person.
blessings,
Debby
laura // 2009/10/31 at 9:27 PM |
Lula, er, Lyla (just had to do that! i’m loving reading love notes to you from your parents, that alone gets me all choked up).
Waiting…yes, this is something I know a little about. But it is different each time, is it not? I will pray for you in this waiting time, friend. God has some awesome plans.
hugs,
laura
shrinkingthecamel // 2009/11/15 at 10:01 AM |
Lyla – sorry I’m a little late on this, but we at High Calling Blogs really loved this brave story, and I will be featuring it this Tuesday as part of our “Work” feature. You are an example of faith for many others who are going through this same thing. Thank you, and I am certain God will bless your future pathways! So come by and visit the site on Tuesday, and please chime in and respond to any comments that are made.
deb @ talk at the table // 2009/11/17 at 11:02 AM |
I , too, echo that I am humbled before your faith.
I can usually come to higher ground in times of plans gone wrong, but to be so elegant and strong in the moment. Wow.
Best wishes to you for the just right of whatever will be.
Angel // 2009/11/17 at 2:54 PM |
You know me, I love your writing … period. I don’t always comment. I don’t always know what to say. Yeah … even I can be speechless.
And, this is really one of those moments … as I scramble for something profound to share. I have nothing.
But, I don’t think you need it anyway. You have what you need already.
Marcus Goodyear // 2009/11/17 at 4:10 PM |
This is just as heart-wrenching today as it was when I first read this. Especially: “It seems to me that this should mean something profound. But I’m all contemplated out.”
Also, your Dad is awesome.
Lyla // 2009/11/17 at 4:31 PM |
Bradley and Marcus, thanks so much for featuring this over at HCB (I’m trying to join the discussion over there but I’m stuck in comment moderation…can you help?). I’m given even more hope today.
Deb, thanks for your kind remarks. I don’t know about me and elegant, but your words encourage me today.
nAncY // 2009/11/17 at 4:37 PM |
came through from brad’s post at hcb. good to meetcha.
good post, good words.
nAncY
nAncY // 2009/11/17 at 4:38 PM |
actually… “lula” is kind of cute
donkimrey // 2009/11/17 at 7:07 PM |
Lu Lu isn’t bad, either. I drifted over here after reading Brad’s blog at STC. So glad I did. Sounds to me as if you have your head screwed on right, and for all his ineptitude at remembering his kid’s name, I bet your Dad had something to do with that. Having a couple of sweetheart daughters of my own, I sensed a loving connection with his daughter and faith which is contagious and beautiful. You’re in the hearts of a lot of us as you switch gears…but don’t change direction! ~donkimrey
Where is God When You Lose Your Job? // 2009/11/17 at 7:34 PM |
[...] a High Calling Blogger at A Different Story, is one of those recently unemployed, and tells of her experience on the last day of her job: [...]
Lyla Lindquist // 2009/11/17 at 10:54 PM |
Folks, speechless over here in South Dakota. Thanks so much for your visits and your kind, kind words.
God is at work, even if I’m not quite yet, and we’re turning pages as the story goes on.