Every human need

“Divine Love always has met and always will meet every human need.”
— Mary Baker Eddy

My department at the Tulsa World was eliminated Tuesday, and all of the employees were terminated with no warning.

There’s no good way to lay people off, but there are approaches that are more compassionate, thoughtful, and gentle than others. Unfortunately, our company’s leadership didn’t choose any of those approaches — which made my job as an editor that much more challenging as my close-knit staff and I struggled to make sense of the situation.

At a moment like this, the idea of supply becomes very important.

Two thousand years ago, Christ Jesus admonished his followers to “take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on” (Matt. 6:25) and to “take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” (Matt. 6:34)

Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at “taking no thought” for where my next meal, my next car payment, or my next paycheck is going to come from. I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about finances. Mrs. Eddy’s assertion about divine Love meeting every need is so firmly embedded in my consciousness — and has been demonstrated so many times in my life — that nothing the human experience can throw at me is likely to shake it loose.

For me, then, the challenge Tuesday was not in figuring out what to do next. I already know my needs will be met; in fact, by the time I pulled into the driveway Tuesday afternoon, I’d already landed a gig making alligator burgers and chicken-fried steak at the Rock Cafe on Route 66 in Stroud.

The big challenge for me Tuesday was in controlling my mama-bear streak.

As the situation unfolded, I had some good intentions about getting through it without anger or profanity, but the publisher’s cavalier treatment of those who live paycheck to paycheck left a pretty foul taste in my mouth, and when I saw the effect his actions seemed to be having on my staff, whom I love dearly … well, I’m afraid Mama Bear roared. And growled. And snarled. And cussed like a gangster in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

But here’s the thing: All that roaring and growling and snarling and cussing didn’t help Mama Bear’s cubs one little bit. It didn’t bring back their jobs. It didn’t elevate their thought. It didn’t show them what they needed to do next. It just reinforced the anger and fear and frustration we all felt when the announcement was made.

I’m still pretty mad at Yoko the publisher for breaking up the band my staff. But now that the initial shock is behind me and I’m not looking at a roomful of stricken faces and teary eyes, I know what I need to do:

I need to keep knowing that we all have the same Father and that divine Love meets every human need (and not just mine), and I need to dig in my heels and refuse to accept this false suggestion that the actions of another human, however callous, could somehow keep any of us from seeing the blessings that the Father is pouring out on us every minute of every day.

Every human need, guys. Always. I promise. And I can’t wait to see what amazing adventures the Father has in store for all of us in the coming weeks.

With much love,