Unexpected turbulence

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 43:5)

“We’re traveling just to the left of a very hard cell. We expect some turbulence, but we’ll get you to the other side as quickly as possible.”

So said the pilot on my flight from Atlanta to Jacksonville, on my way home after completing my mom’s final move out of Colorado.

What a perfect analogy, I thought. How my life has played out just like that!

It’s been a bumpy year and a half. I can barely remember what happened in 2025. My job nearly consumed me. What started as support for the company’s #2 executive grew into my supporting him and 14 other executives on his team. I was regularly working 50-60 hours a week to maintain the level of support needed.

And I was tired!

In the midst of all that chaos, David and I flew to Colorado to move my mom’s household to GA. Driving a 26-foot U-Haul truck towing a 15-foot trailer, we made our way across the country in a cross-country adventure that deserves its own write-up.

Two weeks after that trip, I began preparing for our corporate conference – coordinating 47 customer meetings for my executives over a 2-day event. At that point, I was working over 70 hours a week and not getting much sleep.

In the middle of that fatigue, God sent a recruiter my way, who asked if I was interested in another job. Less than 2 weeks later, I landed a new position as the executive assistant to the CEO at a non-profit agency. This could be none other than divine intervention, I believed. I would be moving from supporting 15 executives to supporting 1 in an industry that gives back to the community. What could be more perfect?

Or so I thought.

On day 2, I learned that my support would no longer be autonomous. Everything I did, every meeting I coordinated, had to be documented in a spreadsheet for both the CEO and the Chief of Staff to review – with ongoing reports back to both on progress and completion.

Worse yet, I was required to create a daily outline providing a 2-4-week look-ahead for scheduling, which I then shared in a 40-minute meeting each morning with both of these executives. The amount of micromanagement was astounding. I later learned that 9 previous admins had unsuccessfully filled my seat over the 2.5 years leading up to my start.

Three weeks into that ordeal, I returned from my Colorado trip to find that the CEO had gone on indefinite leave – with much doubt as to her return – and the interim CEO didn’t want or need my assistance. It never occurred to me that I might soon be out of a job until the Chief of Staff advised me that he, too, didn’t know how long he’d be needed. A “temporary” move to support another C-level executive led to the individual’s candid statement that he, too, required nominal assistance. I went from 60-hour weeks to barely enough to keep me busy every day, and the fear of being let go at any moment.

Attempts to return to my former employer were for naught. My former head executive had already filled my seat, and my application for a new, lower-level role was shot down after my first interview.

Equally disappointing, I later discovered that a “friend” who had advised me about the role contributed to my rejection.

In addition to the humiliation of crawling back for this role, the blood, sweat, and tears in my former position – one that had begun to affect my health, as noted in my post “Be anxious in nothing” – yielded no fruit in my pursuit. Those I’d befriended, lost sleep over, and stood beside over the past 5 years of my life have vanished in my hour of need.

It’s hard not to feel betrayed by friends and trapped in a role that will soon end. I can’t find another job at this point, and every molecule of my planning-and-preparation genes has been squashed. I have no idea what will happen next. Even my thoughts of starting my own business were shot down after I voiced them out loud.

“Where’s your faith?” David yelled at me as I tried to eat lunch after church today. “You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”

His words hurt me more than anyone else’s. “I have more faith than anyone you know,” I retorted. “You’re being a cruel comforter.”

And so, here I sit, thinking back on the hard cell that the pilot reported to us on my flight home, back on August 4^th. That feels like a lifetime ago. I survived the storm, but the unexpected turbulence remains, jostling my spirit around like a rag doll.

I’ve always been able to pray, reason, petition, advocate, and work my way out of every other circumstance that held me down in life. This one is beyond me.

And so, I will wait on God’s timing and intervention.

Get behind me, Devil. My God is in full control.

I know that truth in my heart and soul, but my arrival on the other side of the storm can’t come quickly enough.