Gainfully unemployed

I had a disturbingly realistic dream this morning. I dreamt I was leaving my job. As I did for real last August. All the same people were there, but the office looked very different. More like the office in Nine to Five. Do you remember that movie? Anyway, in the dream I was packing up all of my stuff (which in real life I did not do) and saying my goodbyes. In the dream I was sad and frustrated, but when I started to wake up, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and relief.

I never admitted this while I was there, but I hated my job. Yes, I was doing accounting, but it wasn’t the kind of accounting I enjoyed. I started out at the firm six years prior doing monthly statements and reports and setting up new files, but by the end I found myself in the role of debt collector. Trying to collect from clients who had come to us for help getting out of a financial mess was like getting blood from a turnip. A losing battle. Every. Single. Day.

I still have the box of my stuff my coworkers had packed up for me. It’s been sitting, rarely touched, since the day I picked it up last September. Framed pictures, my iPod speakers, my candle (coffee) warmer. I even have my framed IRS Enrolled Agent certificate, which as of this week is now invalid. I did find my notary public stamp, which is still good for another five years, so that’s useful. The coffee mugs were the first things to come out when I brought the box home. However, I just realized today that my Einstein mug was never there. It must still be back at the office. My sister gave it to me, and it was a favorite. However, I’m hesitant to contact anyone from the office. I am afraid they would not understand my need to retrieve a silly coffee mug after all this time. After all, they’ve never contacted me. I worked there for six years and no one has asked me how I’m doing. Strange, but typical I suppose. Just goes to show a bit of what I hated about working there.

Oh well. The bottom line here is that some pretty crappy circumstances caused me to lose my job, and for that I am super grateful. In a way, becoming deaf rescued me from a life I was afraid to let go of. So, in God’s great power and graciousness, He plucked me out. He knew better than I, what I was afraid of and even more importantly, what I and my family needed. This all still amazes me. Can I get a hearty Amen?

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