Several years ago a friend hinted that her husband was struggling. I asked about it and she shared that he had lost his job. Bam. Trot off to the same office every weekday for a dozen years, and then abruptly stop. It's like a derailed train going from ninety to zero. Their world had been shaken, and everything was up for grabs. Decisions they had made together about piano lessons, and trips to the shore, birthday celebrations and how cool to keep the house all end up on the chopping block. 

 

Yet she said with surety that they are in this together. She was learning the dance of when to console him and when to nudge him into action. It's not easy choreography because everyone took off their shoes and their bare toes were vulnerable to any misstep. Encouragement can come across as kicking, and backing off can masquerade as apathy. There is a cloud of uncertainty hovering like a Seattle sky. Yet within the unknown, there is conviction. Whether or not there are clouds, the Cascade mountains are still standing. 

 

She believes that God is taking care of them. They will be okay.

 

Just then her little boy called to her. He had been playing with my chickens and wanted her to know one had laid an egg. I noticed that his trust in her ability to take care of him showed no signs of wavering. Whether or not he understood about the national unemployment statistics, he felt safe in her love. 

 

I thought about her trust in God. It was the same color as her son's trust in her. 

 

And I knew in that moment that they were both right. They will be okay.