By Dennis P. McGeehan
 |
| Two Tax Collectors by Reymerswaele (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons). |
The following recounts an event in my life about two years ago. It
had a profound effect on my faith and my outlook on life. I hope it
helps all who read it.
I was already awake before the alarm clock chimed. 5:00 a.m. Time to
get moving. For the past several months I had made it a habit to roll
from my bed onto my knees and start my day with prayer. Normally I would
begin, “Good morning, God,” but today the forced tone was more like,
“Good God, it’s morning.”
I had spent the past two hours tossing and turning with fears causing
me to alternately shake with fear and anger. They were familiar worries,
but they were more intense. Bills, the mortgage, the utilities,
groceries, how would I split the money this month, who would get paid
and who would have to wait. The car needed repair. The transmission
had just died. There was a $ 2500.00 unexpected expense. I had just
gotten a nice tax refund and planned to use it on some long
delayed needs. Now I needed to come up with more money instead of
having a bit of surplus for a month or two.
Besides the bills there were other issues at home that added to the
stress. When you’re the father of eight kids there’s ample opportunity
for things to go wrong. My daughter and seven sons are wonderful, but
two of the older ones were puzzling out their future and considering the
military. I had told them both I would support whatever decision they
made, and I meant that, but thoughts of them being killed or wounded
would not go away.
Then there was work which was in a state of transition. A new
administration, new bosses and new ways of doing things had everyone in
turmoil. There was talk of layoffs. We had recently gone through a
pay-less payday. Now the threat of losing our jobs loomed. There was also
the old "Do more with Less" slogan making the rounds. You have to wonder
how far they can push that before they realize it isn’t working.
No, I did not want to get out of bed. I did not want to go work. But I
had to. Our family has a paper route that we do seven days a week and
my wife and kids needed my help. I rolled onto my knees, offered the
prayers--such as they were--and got dressed.
Upon arriving at work, I found things were chaotic before the day began. We
were short of staff again and it was up to me and my co-worker to figure
out how to make it work. It was a daily burden. Sometimes it felt
crushing. We had lost at least a dozen positions over the years, but
instead of our work load decreasing it had increased. Somehow, with
everyone pulling together in our department we made it happen. For our
efforts we were usually rewarded with more work.
Continue reading at Dennis's blog Warriors' World Dad.
