My husband Martin came home with a story the other night, which made me tear up with relief, and with the feeling of just being absolutely protected by the Father.
For those of you who don’t know, he works for a homebuilder. He’s been there for… I think it will be 18 years in February. I’ve lost count. It’s been a long time, since before we were even dating, let alone married. When he began there, it was basically a mom ‘n’ pop teensy company. Now, they’re the largest privately-held homebuilder in the country. He started out at the bottom, like pretty much everyone else, but over the course of the years, has put his skills to virtually all the processes that go into bringing a home into existence, making tons of lateral moves, and a few moves up, too. For the last six years or so, most of what he’s done is as a designer; he’s pretty much an unlicensed architect. Our own house was designed by him. 🙂
Well, about two and a half years ago, when the housing market in Phoenix was still very strong, an architectural firm became interested in him. They made him a jaw-dropping offer.
Though professionally flattering, it made for an extremely intense month or so of prayer, thought, consideration, weighing options, discussion, torn feelings, investigation of priorities, etc here at home. On top of that, my due date for our fourth child came and went. My husband told me at the time, seriously, that he didn’t think Audrey was going to come until the whole thing was resolved. He was right; within a 15 minute window of him, walking out of his boss’ office, after telling him that he would stay, I started the contractions that led to Audrey being born, roughly 15 hours later (and six days late). So, within a matter of hours, all the familial and professional unrest was brought to wonderful peace.
Even though the Phoenix area (as well as most of the rest of the U.S.) has had a serious downturn on the new-homebuilding front, Martin has kept his job. Given that the company for whom he works is, right now, having their worst month ever for sales, things still feel shaky, but… given the circumstances, his job is more secure than could possibly be expected for his vocation.
Anyways, he got an e-mail the other day from the architectural firm, something along the lines of, “Come to the grand opening of our new office!!” Which sounded suspiciously to Martin like, “We’ve seriously downsized and had to move!!!” So, he called in to the guy he knows there, with whom he still has a working relationship, and it turned out that, yes, across the board, across the United States, throughout each office, that firm has gone through a major downsizing and restructuring. Many people have lost their jobs; given the housing market, this firm just didn’t have enough business to keep everyone employed.
Now, of course, there’s nothing to say for certain what would have been Martin’s fate had he taken the job offered to him by the firm. And, as mentioned, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to continue indefinitely at his employer’s. But… as he told me the story, I got the shivers, tears welled in my eyes, and I felt a tremendous sense of us being protected by God the Father.
No matter what happens, God will continue to provide. And, actually, this morning, I was thinking about how much I hate conjecture. I hate rehearsing all sorts of “what ifs.” (I was thinking about that as my 9yo son Grant was talking about what might have happened if the Teutons had not beaten the Huns at Chalons in 451 AD. It was endless. Or, rather, it would have been endless, had my patience endured, which it did not.) We do the best we can with the decisions that are laid before us, and instead of second-guessing oneself endlessly, hope that history proves that our choices were good ones. If the decisions led to poor results, maybe some re-evaluation is in order. But, in this case, bless God, it does appear that the decision for my hubby to stay was the right one, and I found that confirmation a great relief.