Lessons From The Death of My Passion
The date is September 4th, 2023 when my phone rings, announcing a call I will never forget. It is my co-worker, fresh out of a meeting with my superiors. They let me go. Like Job, listening to a messenger relay the news of his losses, I listen to my colleague deliver the news of my termination.
It feels like a joke. But I do not break a chuckle. As I almost do not believe it, until I see my termination letter in unmistakable black and white. If there was 100%, I was giving 200%. Are you whining me? Or when you have a star employee do you send them away and pretend they are incompetent? Are these ones joking? It is then my shock, like water at 100° C, dissipates into anger. And I am heated, staring at my screen with letters that spell a joke. Worst of all on a Tuesday, leaving me to work till Friday.
At least I am not empty-handed. I thank God I still have my second job, but only now, 16-hour workdays have become 8-hour workdays. The anger remains, sizzling in my chest, yet there is another pain I notice in my back. Cycles of working 10 am to 5 pm, and 6 pm to 2am every day were telling on my body.
So, I get an ergonomic chair in October. Determined, I resolve, nothing will chain me from unleashing my best on this second job. A few days later, I can not seem to log in at work, and I am quick to alert my coworkers, in frantic texts. Hey, what’s up? I can’t log in. Crickets. Hey, I can’t log in, are you having the same issue? Crickets.
“Toyin. I’m sorry. Your role got cut.” My manager messages me. It is as though the Earth pulls out from beneath me, and the skies roll up into total darkness.
October, 4th, 2023, exactly a month apart, I lose my second job. I did not know you could mourn something that isn’t a human being. God, is this what we planned? This doesn’t make any sense. At this time? Two jobs gone?
I remind myself there is money in the bank from one of the incomes I had set apart every month. I try to find solace in the fact that there is money to carry me. But my stomach remains fastened in a knot. Every day, I feel myself slip further into this dark room in my mind.
I had money to spend. But losing both jobs feels like I had failed in life. I gave them everything. Was I really ever good enough?
The day I make my first withdrawal from my savings, a sob envelopes me, releasing the grief from my lips like a wailing animal. It is 9 am and the sun is not yet out, or so it seems. I wait in the banking hall, clad in sweaty gym clothes. Sweat, grit, and backache—only to find myself here. The room is filled with people, but fear is the closest. Fear that the savings would one day run out and I would still find myself here. Stuck.
When earlier in the year, it was I who could show up for friends, I who helped my dad with a construction in front of the compound…given to a church that wanted to renew their rent. Was not God supposed to protect my source of income?
My partner and friends suggest I do not stay alone. They call, pray, speak words over me. In some of these moments, I cry ugly tears, my pillow taking it all, many times…
Showing up in God’s house on Sundays grows to feel like a chore. Toyin, that girl in primary four, who won an award for being the ‘most cheerful’. Where is she now? I remember thinking, if someone at church sees through the mask, I will break down. I am terrified, and can not afford it. Still, I return to his house, to Sycamore Church, holding on to Him for the fear of this darkness that so often knocks on my door. I hold on to him and his Word. If I was bursting at the seams, barely holding it together, the Word of God was the cord, securing me in steadfastness.
Often in grief and loss, we try to bargain or negotiate as a way to cope. To adjust. So as the new year rolls around, I attempt to negotiate with God for a new job in March. It would be the perfect birthday gift. 8th March comes, but the dream job does not. April, Q1? Nothing. Still, I see his provision through side jobs and one-off projects. Little pockets of blessing that God is still working, and with me. The world does not feel so grey anymore, and I do not feel as hollow.
Nine months into my ‘Bible in a Year plan’, God reminds me of a scripture I journaled earlier that year.
For thus says the LORD God of Israel: For this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: There will always be flour and olive oil left in your containers until the time when the LORD sends rain and the crops grow again!— 1st Kings 17:14
It is his protection over my heart, a reassurance that while I look at my savings close to its depletion, he will see me through. Like a rainbow in the sky after a storm, his word colours my life. The life ahead is not one I should worry about, but one I can live to the full because of the One who guides me. 4th October 2024, a year after being let go, I receive an email from my previous employers.
Toyin,
We’re working on a new partnership , and we would love for you to come work with us again.
The anger returns. But I swallow it and accept the job. Only, now, it is more stressful than I recall, and I am working late evenings into early hours of the morning again. This is not it. So, I turn to God. Is this the dream job? This does not make sense, I did not think I would go back to my vomit. His answer comes in December, reminding me of the scripture with which he anchored me, Toyin, your containers will not be empty. He asks that I prepare. Somehow, this job that returned was never meant to be a long-term one. It was specifically for three months, so my containers are not empty as I was still living off my savings for a full year.
January 6th, 2025, I lose my job. Again. My growth is that the last time I was devastated, but this time I am rejoicing. Panic revisits. You know, I’ve housed it before, it’s knocking on my door. I am familiar with that dark place it brings, and it starts to draw me again. But now, there is a standard raised against it, and all I have to do is remember. The God who took me through the fires will take me through again. This same January at Super Saturday, a prayer gathering at church, God speaks to me about the work of my hands and grounds me in further clarity. You lost this one just in time for your February role, I heard in my spirit. ‘God has a sense of humour’, I say. One role I applied for in December hadn’t gotten back to me, and I had even sent a follow-up message. Crickets. ‘Was it that one, God? Lol’
One Monday in February, the job I applied to in December calls me for an interview. And by Tuesday, 9:00 am, sends me an offer letter.
God.
I see what you were doing here all the while. You were teaching me not to worry.
While it seems it took me a whole year to get the last job—which was even a rebound—this new one took even shorter. As I tell this story, it’s been a couple weeks in this role. Often I feel like I’ve bitten more than I can chew, but I remember that God gave this one to me. He brought me here, he’s going to keep me. It is a vision I can set before me.
It is one I can run with.
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Toyin Adeoye serves with the Digital Resource and Creative Show Team at Sycamore Church, Ibadan.
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Written By Eme Agbor
Eme serves with the Content Team at Sycamore Church, Ibadan.
(Blogposts are creative expressions generously provided for Sycamore Church. The ideas and thoughts do not necessarily represent the position of Sycamore Church)
