Losing My Job

Dear God: I’m really scared. There’s a sick rumble around the building that a third of us might lose our jobs. If that happens, I’m almost sure to be one of the pink-slip victims. My eighteen months here make a pretty slim résumé, and HR’s got a record of every time I had to call in sick.

Lord, you know all about our bank account—that we have barely three months’ worth of savings and that overpriced mortgage. How would we survive? How long would unemployment benefits last us?

And it’s not just our finances, but I love going to work, being a paycheck guy, punching the clock and being busy. I dread the idea of pajamas till noon, of scouring the Internet for another job, going through want ads, asking friends for leads, pounding the pavement. I just want to stay here! Some people find uncertainty an adventure; they joke about more time for golf and being “funemployed.” How could they afford green fees with no paycheck! I just don’t think that way, and this bleak future without a job scares me.

Plus I hate how the specter of being riffed—you know, “reduction in force”—makes us all look around and grasp at straws of comparison: I’ve been here longer than him; I get more work done than she does. They wouldn’t keep that jerk here over me, would they? This bad economy has made us competitive and petty, and I don’t like that side of my nature.

Help me to keep trusting in you and to stay strong and confident. You’ve always cared for our family and you’ll get me through this hard time. Thank you.

In Jesus’ name. Amen.

David B. Smith writes from Southern California.

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