The Big Hunker Down

Most people have never had the pleasure of living in the Texas Panhandle, but if you have, you understand the power of an unexpected storm. The winds blow. The snow drifts, and the tornado swirls. Sometimes, a high-pitched siren blares loudly in the middle of a dark night, alerting all to take cover. In many cases, the weather guy or gal has been watching things for hours ahead, giving a play by play report of the storm's progression. If you're accustomed to checking a smart phone app every morning, you may get wind on Monday of what's likely to blow through on Friday night, allowing a whole work week to make sure there's enough animal feed in the barn and people food in the fridge.

However, basically, those who live in that neck of the woods have adopted a learned-from-experience preparedness. Every season has its storm, and people have been through "it" so many times, they know to expect it. Whatever the weather will be will be. Ready or not. And, if it's serious enough, they might just have to hunker down.

If one happens to get caught driving down the highway when a storm comes out of nowhere, all preparedness tactics shift down into a lower, slower, even more deliberate gear. With the first loud pelt of hard rain on the windshield, the warning arrives. Slow down. Turn on the car's flashers. Hold the steering wheel firmly at ten and at two. One must put immediately into place all that was learned in driver's ed – and wherever else one might have grasped it – because no one, but no one, wants to skid across a slippery Texas roadway and wind up stuck in the bar ditch.

The bar ditch is that narrow, little muddy canal on the side of the road where you never want the wheels of the car to go. "Bar" is actually "borrow", shortened by Southern slang. Where dirt is borrowed to build up a road, what's left is a low place in the ground alongside it. Now, instead of puddling across the roadway, rainwater has another place to collect. But if you lose control of the car (or big ol' Texas pickup), if you insist on barreling through without giving any heed, you might wind up over there in the ditch, stuck as all get out. Rest assured, progress comes to a complete halt when that happens, my friend.

Job loss can feel much like the same experience as the onslaught of a Texas thunderstorm.

You might have seen it coming, or you might have been taken by surprise. Either way, when the storm of job loss hits, there's no way to get through it but to go through it. Like taking shelter in a cellar, the first thing to do is to simply to embrace The Big Hunker Down.

Whether you picked up this book because you're facing an impending job loss, you're smack dab in the middle of the thing, or someone you love is going through it, I want you to know I'm so glad you're here. I know what it's like to dread that storm's approach, what it takes to endure the uncertainty, and how to plan the party when the clouds have finally lifted. Friend, be encouraged. Hope is found in the hunker down, the storm does pass, and your destiny doesn't have to get stuck in the bar ditch.

So, tie your shoelaces, gather a case of water bottles and pack up a few treasured possessions. The storm is calling us into the cellar. By the time you finish this book, however, you'll be like me and my Texas neighbors. You will have learned a lot from the experience and developed some pretty strong preparedness tactics to get you through it. Not only that, when the hunker down gives way to the hoo-rah, you'll be ready to celebrate with the best of 'em.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11