This summer I spent a couple weeks home with my family and friends, reliving the cherished memories of what it is to be joyful. It was more than I expected and at the end of the trip, it was the first time I felt… heartbroken. I’m usually eager to hit the sky after bouts of family drama, but this trip was different. We actually worked together as a team and helped each other achieve goals. And I found the time to dedicate to my friends. It was renewing. Two layovers and 9 hours later, I was repulsed by the suffocating heat that greeted me. What a disappointment.

Almost a month later, I’m still reminicing on those two weeks like a summer romance. It was rejuvenating to feel so alive, so available. At a whims notice, I was making memories that will probably carry a lifetime. Now, I’m just trying to squeeze the last drops of joy out so I can make it through my day. I’ve fallen prey to all the old addictions that used to help me through my moods; retail therapy, project overload, movie marathons and long phone calls. It’s gotten me this far, but I’m not sure how much longer my budget or family and friends can handle it.

Today didn’t make things much easier. We had to lay off more than a dozen people at work. My boss asked me this morning to handle the prayer before he announced cutbacks. I’m usually the designated ‘pray-er’ at work, but this time when he asked, I was speechless. What do you say to a bunch of people who are about to lose their jobs or to those watching their friends be let go? One thing I didn’t want to do was pray with a decrypted message. I mean, here I would be in a room knowing that half of them would be let go as soon as I said Amen. It could have been very likely my heart would step on the higher-ups toes in the process of prayer and I’d inadvertantly blurt out ‘half this room is going to be let go’. So I thought about it awhile, prayed about it even more and decided to write down my words carefully. Here’s where that all landed me.

Heavenly Father,
We come before you this afternoon, thanking you for giving us this day to serve you and our community.

We thank you that no matter what happens, you are our ultimate source of comfort and our provider and where one door closes, you open another.

We ask for a perfect peace and a sense of understanding in our lives. May your blessings be upon us and our families today and always.

It’s in your name we pray, Amen.

I’m not sure if that softened any hearts before the blow, but I sure hope it was some kind of assurance for the room. It’s all I had.