|Well...that's one way to put it.|
The most praying I do is on the scale at the doctor’s office and walking into work: “Let’s hope this will be a good day!” Both of these pseudo-prayers are most definitely futile, unfortunately.
But lately something peculiar has been happening. Take last Saturday. It was raining and cold and Penny had to go for a walk, so I donned two sweatshirts, a canary yellow rains slicker and my trusty Eskimo boots and off we went to the river trail. The snow was still about 10 inches thick and we trudged slowly and silently (well – I did, she more or less hopped gracefully). The air was clear and crisp and the rain pitter pattered on my jacket. Penny trounced from one snowy mound to the other, looking back every thirty seconds or so at her pathetic owner (and if a dog can roll their eyes, she surely has the gift).
And even though it was cold, and raining, and I was huffin’ and puffin’ (and, yes) grunting, it was rather lovely, peaceful, and affirming. And it was the closest I’ve come to prayer in years.
These little moments have been positively delightful. Take Valentine’s morning: at 5:45 am I heard Matt shuffling around like a drunken moose. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m making you breakfast!”, he replied. Never mind I occasionally meet a friend at the gym with this morning being one of them. No worries, he said, we’ll have a quick breakfast. Which is what I did at 6:10 that morning in five minutes flat. Banana pancakes, coffee, and a quick kiss goodbye. It couldn’t have been sweeter.
I think of these quiet moments in times of strife, and this is one of them. It is confirmed: I am being laid off. No one knows when, except “soon”. When you are told your company is out of money during a last-minute night conference call, and that there are no other choices because no bank in their right mind will refinance us, and when your boss’s boss cries at this news, you know it’s bad. I saw the writing on the wall a while ago in unpaid bills, tales of excessive spending, and other dirty secrets that trickled down to my desk. No controls in place, no leadership, no fortitude, and this leaves us little people scrambling. When you know you’re going to be laid off you sulk, lose motivation, and wait…and wait. You wait for the ball to drop. For the other shoe to drop. You wait for another nighttime last-minute conference call announcing the inevitable.
There's not much I can do. (Well, except cry and then bitch and then sulk, all of which I do often.) I want answers - when? Is there severance? Will we even make payroll and will my PTO be paid out? I have almost 100 hours of PTO saved up (and for this, I now laugh) to add onto a maternity leave. Yes; big, boisterous laughs. And next week I have my IVF egg retrieval, followed by (I hope) the transfer. I'm trying not to complain, but it's not in my makeup. I am fortunate: if I give up the fertility stuff, going out to eat, and other extras, we will be fine. Maybe it's high time I practiced some big time budgetary restraint (But there is sushi to be eaten! And new dresses to be bought!) I am lucky I have a significant other who is employed, who has insurance I can jump onto, and who tolerates my aforementioned crying, bitching, and sulking.
But between all this crying, bitching, and sulking, I swear, I am having those little, transcendent moments. I'm not saying I'm having deep thoughts or anything, but it's a start. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some jobs that need apply'n.