When the road takes an unexpected turn, God is still there with us.
Forty years ago this summer, Janis and I were eagerly awaiting the birth of our first child. I was working as a printing press operator in the in-house print shop at Joy Manufacturing Company, a manufacturer of coal mining equipment.
I had been there for seven years. It was a good job – steady work, excellent benefits, and the kind of security every young husband and father-to-be hopes for.
Most of my co-workers were about my age. We were all at different stages of life – some married, some single – but we shared one thing in common: we were practicing Christians.
The conversations we had during coffee breaks and lunch often revolved around our families, our churches, and our hopes for the future.
That sense of stability began to unravel in the summer of 1986. Joy Manufacturing was a publicly traded corporation and had become the target of a hostile corporate takeover. As the battle for control intensified, rumors spread throughout the plant.
Then the layoffs began. Week after week, employees were called into the office and escorted out. The company was desperately trying to cut costs in an effort to avoid the takeover.
With a baby due in just a few weeks, every announcement left me wondering if I would be next. I had been keeping this fear secret from my wife. I rationalized it as making sure she didn’t worry.
Then my Friday came.
My supervisor asked me to report to the manager's office. The Human Resources director was already there.
"You're being laid off."
After seven years, everything I owned at work fit into a cardboard box that had once held 250 No. 10 envelopes. As I sat in the binding room waiting for my shift to end, I thought about how I was going to tell Janis.
My supervisor, Becky and I were working on stuffing some envelopes when I saw the Plant Manager, Bill O’Rourke walk pass the door. Not long afterward, he came back and this time entered the room.
“Mark, your wife is waiting for you in the lobby.”
I got up and followed him to the lobby where Janis was waiting, her face all smiles even though the day was scorching hot and she was eight months pregnant.
Bill stopped and said to Janis, “It was a pleasure meeting you.” Then he went up the steps quickly to his office.
"I have some news," she said.
"Me too."
As we walked to the car, I could feel the eyes from inside watching us. Or at least I imagined I could. I had been watching every Friday afternoon for weeks.
In the car she went first. "The doctor says the baby will probably be here within ten days!"
I burst into tears.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I no longer have a job."
The drive home was filled with more tears than words.
The following Monday, I returned to work to begin my notice period. My manager had my résumé professionally typeset and printed.
Later that day, Bill O'Rourke stopped by the print shop. He expressed his sorrow over what had happened, encouraged me to use him as a professional reference, and reminded me that good people sometimes find themselves on the losing end of circumstances beyond their control. It wasn't a long conversation, but I've never forgotten it.
Looking back, I've realized two things. First, God was already opening doors I couldn't yet see. What felt like the end of the road became the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.
Second, I wasn't protecting my wife by carrying my fears alone. Marriage was never meant to work that way. God gives husbands and wives one another so they can carry life's burdens together.
For nearly forty years, Bill never knew how much that brief conversation meant to me.
Forty years later, I reached out to him to send him a note, telling him how much his kindness meant to me. After exchanging a few emails, Janis and I shared lunch with him just last month.
We talked about where our journeys had taken us.
He left Joy not long afterward and went on to a distinguished career at Alcoa, eventually becoming a nationally recognized speaker and co-author of The Business Ethics Field Guide. Seeing where life had taken both of us made our reunion all the more meaningful.
Sometimes God provides exactly what we need - not by changing our circumstances immediately, but by placing the right people along our path at just the right time.
That cardboard box wasn't the end of my story.
It was simply another bend along the winding road.