Sleeping in the Boat while the Storm Rages

Feeding my soul when the week ahead will test it.

It’s almost March! The exclamation point is me being positive. It’s not a natural trait, so you should take what you can get.

I’ve chronicled elsewhere what a trying time this is for so many—the challenges to U.S. workforce, in our government, and (I don’t think I’m being too hyperbolic), in our country. If you want to geek out on the details of nonprofits and government grants, my reluctant ring side seat to a separation of powers war, or the human and national security cost to compassionless decision making, you can read my LinkedIn page.

But if you want a somewhat humorous / somewhat serious look at how I’m faring and not faring, look no further.

First, my hair is big. I mean BIG. My hair doesn’t grow long but rather haloes my cranium with amazing height (or sprouts devil horns, depending on your view of my soul). I need a professional haircut. But priorities right now have that at the bottom of the punch list. To be fair—it’s always been at the bottom. I had a stylist tell me once that my own clippering of my hair is not too bad, given my curly mass and errant silver hair. It’s simply not too noticeable that someone who doesn’t have a state license has cut it. I have taken that comment as a ticket to greater laziness and frugality. But at some point, I need a professional to right this Medusa-like ship.

Second, there isn’t a lot of food in my house right now that isn’t a protein bar or a condiment. Over the past five years, I have increased my cooking and we largely became an ingredient household with very little prepared foods. Let’s just say that for the past six weeks, I’ve been living day to day, with few homemade meals in that time span.

But I’ve prioritized some things that matter most. I’ve been most grateful for a small prayer contingency that meets weekly with me, and I’ve spent Sundays in particular in Scripture and worship. I’ve managed to finally wedge swimming back into it’s rightful place. I’ve had a less chaotic week than the past few, spending more time with my husband and youngest daughter, which has been just what I needed.

This week, I was able to take in some cold water training in preparation for the Tahoe True Width in July. I got in some very cold swims with delightful, nonhuman support swimmers who, during our dip together, said nothing about Executive Orders or Stop Work Orders or Reductions in Force.

It can feel indulgent and tone deaf to highlight relaxation, frivolity or sport in current times. But we must prioritize it.

Our identity cannot become chaos, even as we live in it. My identity cannot be as a lawyer engaged in the near-soul-crushing activity of cutting jobs. It can’t be as an advisor who has to say, “I just don’t know what to do next.” It can’t be as a counselor who seems to have zero helpful counsel.

While it seems like new territory, it isn’t—not completely. I’ve been here before.

I lived through two very traumatic layoffs when I was a partner in a law firm. I was the hiring manager, and that mean I was also the firing manager. I hated it. I didn’t want to do it. I thought if I sat and listened, no one would be mad at me. Instead of concerning myself with real compassion for those without work, and overlooking the anger directed my way, I was most concerned with being liked in the process, even sympathized with. As I bent over backwards to seem nice (if you know me, you know that seem is an important verb), I really made it all about me. I swore I’d never do it again.

And God laughed. I’ve performed this role in every management position I’ve had since I graduated law school.

Like you, I was not spared unpalatable tasks. This is my fourth mass scale reduction in force for which I’ve had some level of decision making and responsibility.

It was never on my bucket list.

I love solving problems. But when you can’t solve a problem, what’s your role? I’m not completely sure, but I do think I’m being winnowed, to remove my chaff of self-interest and always having an answer, to being wheat — having greater compassion, each time I have such an unpleasant task, for all involved.

Let’s also state the seemingly unsayable — I’m not out of work. Yet.

I still have a job. That breeds a level of guilt. The fact is, I still have clients, for now. At the same time, true servants are applying for unemployment, and this isn’t fair. But it is true, and it should inform how I do my work.

All of this being so, one of the things I am striving for in 2025, as the sun peaks out and the snow stops and the oceans become bearable to human skin, is to take breaks and celebrate them. For Mondays come imminently, and I need to be ready when they do.

So, ditch your friends if you need to and you go pray by yourself.

Fall asleep in the boat while the storm rages.

Sit at a table with sinners and enjoy a meal.

Lie down in that green pasture.

Laugh even when tears are just an hour away.

Smile on a Zoom call that comes just before the next one where you are preparing to deliver bad news.

You won’t forget the compassion you need to give if you extend it to yourself as well.