I’ll never forget the hopeless feeling that day I spent in Best Buy.
The day my position was eliminated, I lost so much more than an employer. I lost my confidence. My clarity. My way forward. On a very practical level, I lost my company-funded cell phone and computer.
So there I stood, two days after the big event, trying to purchase a basic phone and laptop to navigate my new normal.
“How much data do you think you’ll use?” asked the blue shirted man with long, wiry hair dripping from his chin.
“Data?” I asked, my tired, sluggish brain struggling to compute. “Remind me… why do I need data?”
Ram. Processor. VGA. GB. AT&T. HP. HD. LED. 4G. 6S.
Two hours prior, I’d given myself a pre-battle pep talk walking through the store’s sliding glass doors. Now everything inside me screamed, “Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!”
Too much. It was all just way too much.
And technology, or my lack thereof, was just the beginning.
Searching for the next best thing was brutal. Days of waiting stretched into weeks. Weeks stretched into months. Seeking. Waiting. Filling out forms, writing emails, making phone calls. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, what skills I had to offer, or who in the world would take me.
I applied, I tried, and more often than I care to admit, I cried.
In the midst of my personal desert, God supplied.
My bills were paid. My children were fed. Beyond that, there was joy, peace, and inexplicable comfort.
And there was community – oh boy, was there community. I’ll never forget all the many ways that my friends, family and church showed up in the moments where I needed them the most.
There was laughter. There was hope. Eventually – glory, hallelujah – there was a job.
Looking back, I am astounded by all that I learned and experienced while walking in the desert. It’s a path I never would have chosen, but it took me from where I was to where I needed to be.
And I am so grateful.