Count Your Blessings, page 30
Since I am alive this very day, let me live it!
~Phyllis McKinley
The Blessing of a Friend
There is one word
which may serve as a rule of practice for all one’s life—
reciprocity.
~Confucius
For weeks on end, I waited to receive the call that I had lost my job due to cutbacks. Times were tough and I worked part-time at a private Christian school. All the employees were aware that problems in the economy had reduced enrollment. We were also aware that other local Christian schools had recently cut the number of classes and one had even closed. It was only a matter of time till I had no job at all.
When our school mentioned having to make cuts, such as not replacing some people who were leaving, freezing raises, and cutting non-essential personnel, I was sure I would be one of the first employees let go. After all, I had only been working at the school one year and shared a secretarial job with another woman who had been at the school many years. I worked the morning shift and she worked the afternoon shift. If they had to cut our position back to one person part-time, I was lowest on the totem pole. My husband and I loved the school and wanted our children to continue attending, but we knew it would be financially difficult, if not impossible, to keep three children there without me working.
All of our kids were well adjusted in the school and doing well academically. They were sharing with us the Bible lessons they were learning from their once a week chapel and from their daily Bible instruction in each of their classes. They had all made many friends, and the thought of making them change schools or become home-schooled again was unpleasant at best.
Because I was part-time I didn’t work in the summer, but I checked in with the full-time people often to see how things were going. News was bad. Enrollment was not going up very fast. Jobs were being cut. Teachers lost their aides. Some grades went from two classes to one, so even some teachers lost their jobs. My income was not supporting the family but it did allow my children to attend. I prayed daily for those people at the school who needed their jobs to pay their bills and feed their families. But then I also prayed that my kids could keep attending. At the end of each prayer I prayed for God’s will, knowing that He knows better than we do what we need.
The woman I job-shared with had worked at the school while her own children had attended, clear through to graduation. She was like a mentor to me. I often went to her with questions because she knew our position so much better than I did. If I lost my job, I’d miss not only the income, but working with her and the other ladies in my office. But as I said earlier, I knew God would take care of my situation.
The call came. My position had been cut from two part-time people to one. I was prepared to walk away, but what I wasn’t prepared for was that my job-share partner had voluntarily given up her job so that I could keep mine. God was working in a way I had not expected.
This wonderful woman blessed me and my family by helping my kids to stay at the school. On the phone one day she told me, “I wanted to give your kids the same chance to stay through graduation that my girls had.”
Not only did this wonderful friend give up her job for me, but she now fills in whenever I need a day off. I have had to call her many times at the last minute because of sick kids or other needs and she has been right there to work for me. I pray good things for her often and tell her that she has been a huge blessing for my family during these tough times.
Ultimately it’s God that helps us through the tough times. In many cases, like this one, it’s evident how He does it. Through the sacrificial love of others.
~Angel Ford
Election Day Setback
To succeed in life, you need three things:
a wishbone, a backbone and a funnybone.
~Reba McEntire
I’d just driven away from my elderly client’s home late in the afternoon when I noticed I had a missed call on my cell phone. It was from my husband. “Uh-oh,” I groaned. That could mean only one thing. I waited until I arrived home to call him back.
“Hi honey,” I said as cheerfully as I could when he answered. “Sorry I missed your call. What’s up?” I had a feeling down deep in my gut that I knew what he was going to say. He’d been having trouble at work for several months. Ever since a new set of managers took over his department. Men who seemed bent on getting rid of him.
“It’s over.”
I think my heart stopped beating for a second or two. “It is?”
“Yep. I’m unemployed.”
On that crisp November day—the same day Barack Obama made history by being elected the first black president of the United States—my husband was fired from a company he’d been with for more than twenty-three years. He’d worked there since he graduated from college. Since before we were married.
Somehow I didn’t collapse in a puddle of tears right there on the kitchen floor. He certainly didn’t need to deal with a hysterical wife. “Why don’t you take some time to yourself before you come home,” I suggested, knowing he probably wouldn’t feel like facing the boys or me just then. He took me up on my offer and we hung up.
My heart was racing as I stared out the window to the backyard. Anxious, angry thoughts whirled through my mind.
That stupid, stupid company! Those stupid, stupid people!
One person in particular came to mind. My husband’s former supervisor was also a longtime friend. How could he have been involved in this? How could they fire my husband, without so much as a penny of severance? After twenty-three years of being a dependable, hard-working, trustworthy employee, this is what he gets? The whole thing was simply too surreal to fathom just then, yet there were some very real matters we needed to face.
Like telling our two teenage sons.
I called the boys into the living room. I thought it best to prepare them before my husband came home. He wouldn’t exactly be in the mood to explain things in a calm, soothing manner.
“Boys,” I said, taking a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
They both stared at me. It was obvious they knew something was wrong.
“Did Grandma die?” my fifteen-year-old asked, referring to my eighty-two-year-old mother who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and was not doing well.
I shook my head. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Although, in a way it was. The feelings and emotions that come with losing a job are very similar to those we experience when a death occurs. Sadness. Anger. Depression. Add to that the feelings of betrayal, and you’ve got a whopper of emotional baggage to sort through.
The boys kept staring at me. I decided to just blurt it out. “Dad was fired today.”
Silence.
“We’ll be okay,” I reassured, knowing in my heart we would, but at the same time wondering how things would play out in the coming months. I work part-time. My husband was the main breadwinner. His job also provided our health and life insurance policies. What would we do now?
“Will we have to move?” Again, my youngest son, the worrier, voiced the question. My seventeen-year-old son, the one who rarely shows his emotions, stayed quiet. Much too quiet.
“No, we aren’t going to have to move,” came my firm, certain answer.
I hope not anyway, I worried silently, but who knows what might happen in the next few months. Our area hadn’t suffered as many job losses as the rest of the country, but there are no guarantees when it comes to unemployment and securing a new job. I didn’t share that concern with my sons though. There was no need to put unfounded fears on the table just yet. With both boys in high school, the prospect of moving was not something anyone in our family wanted. It made me sad they had to worry about such things now.
The tears came then. I hated to cry in front of the boys and I reined in the traitorous wetness fairly quickly, but it was obvious to them that I was worried. And hurt. But I also tried to be as optimistic as possible.
“Dad will find a new job. You know I’ve wanted him to leave that company for a while now. Maybe this is God’s way of giving him something new. A better job. A job where he’ll be appreciated.”
With all my heart, I prayed that was true. The boys went back to their rooms and I waited for my husband to come home. When he walked in the door a short time later, I put on a brave smile to greet him. I even had some confetti to toss at him as he came into the kitchen.
“Hooray! Welcome home! You’re free! Free! Free at last!”
He gave a slight chuckle. I’m sure he thinks he’s married to a loon. “I’m free, all right. Free and unemployed.”
Later that night we grew more serious. We talked about the immediate future and how we planned to make ends meet. We talked about résumés. We talked about the boys. We talked about all kinds of things.
And we prayed. God has a plan in all of this. Years down the road we’ll look back and see how it all worked for our good. Right now, however, it didn’t feel so good. It felt scary. Like being lost in a pitch-black cave without a flashlight. I don’t like being scared, so I shoved thoughts of uncertainty away.
“Well,” I said, trying to lighten the mood in the room. “Look at the bright side.”
“What’s that?” my husband asked.
“You don’t have to get up at 4:45 A.M. anymore. You can sleep in!”
He actually smiled about that.
I found a few more things to add to the bright side list. He wouldn’t have to eat leftovers for lunch every day. He’d save gallons and gallons of gas since he wouldn’t have to commute into the city. And he’d be home a lot more, which was good for me and for the boys. He’d worked so hard for so many years, he’d missed a lot of time with the family. It would be nice to have him around.
“You know,” I said as I gave him a big hug and settled in for the night. “I think I’m going to enjoy your unemployment. Just think of all the things you can do around the house while you’re home. The yard needs some new mulch, and the trees need to be trimmed, and the bedroom ceiling needs to be repaired, and … ”
He got the idea. “I hope I find a new job before you work me to death.”
“Yeah,” I grinned. “You will. But until then, you’re all mine!”
~Michelle Shocklee
Drinking from Ola’s Cup
Find yourself a cup of tea;
the teapot is behind you.
Now tell me about hundreds of things.
~Saki
It never failed. As I sipped the hot raspberry tea from the fragile china cup, I could almost see my sweet friend, Ola, sitting across the table once again. My fingers traced the delicate wildflowers painted on the cup she had given me. Once more, I was filled with gratefulness as I mulled over our unlikely friendship.
Ola was a tiny, frail wisp of a woman in her eighties who spent most of her time in a wheelchair. Under ordinary circumstances we might not have become such close friends. I was a thirty-six-year-old mother of four children. Who would think we had much in common? But we shared a bond that drew us closer than most. We met at a grief support group that met every Monday night. Both of our husbands had died recently. We were both seeking relief from the deep pain that threatened to consume us.
Naturally, there was a lot of sorrow and weeping in our group. There were some whose spouse had died, some whose parents had recently passed away, and a few who were there because of the death of a child. Some had experienced a long lingering illness with their loved one, while others were going through the shock of a traumatic accident that had taken their loved one without warning. Needless to say, our meetings were filled with much pain and anguish. Our group was a place where others really understood what you were going through.
Some group members were quiet and withdrawn, barely holding back their emotions. There were those who wallowed in self-pity, repeatedly asking why this terrible thing had happened to them. A few regulars were like pressure cookers, their rage ready to blow at the slightest nudge. Then there was Ola.
Every week her daughter wheeled her into the room. There wasn’t anything to make you sit up and take notice of Ola. She was just a tiny white-haired old lady in a wheelchair. Her physical frailties were deceiving, though. Inside that withered little body of hers lived a strong determined spirit. Each week revealed more of it.
For such a feeble thing, Ola had an outspoken personality. She was always ready to share a joke to lighten the grief. But she shared more. Her age gave her the right to offer us guidance and encouragement. We all listened, knowing she had survived many hard times in her life. She and her four children had been abandoned by her first husband. After she married again, she discovered her second husband was an alcoholic. Later he was in an explosion which left him severely deformed. Two of her children died at an early age.
One thing she shared with us stood out above everything else. In a group of people whose lives were devastated, Ola consistently reminded us to think of things to be thankful for. She promised us that our hearts would be lifted if we did. Ola told us if we couldn’t think of anything else, we should at least thank God for the air that we breathe. Through her wrinkled face glowed a light of wisdom and faith that had been born from a long and difficult journey. Before each meeting ended, Ola would begin thanking God for specific things. Some tried to follow her lead. It was amazing to see the hope in people’s faces when they joined in.
Sadly, others were too angry or blinded by pain to think of anything to be thankful for. All they could see was their own tragic heartache. They remained bitter and overwhelmed by their grief.
I chose to follow Ola’s lead. If she could be thankful despite all her hard times, I could certainly try. My heart longed to feel the hope that I saw in Ola. At first it was difficult. My loss seemed so great, I didn’t know if I would ever smile again. Though it was tempting to feel sorry for myself, I was determined to be grateful.
I decided to begin by thanking God for the wonderful gift of having Steve in my life for twenty years. I would have loved more years, but that’s longer than what some people have. And what a great twenty years it had been! My mind wandered as I thought about what my life would have been like if I had not known him. Before long, sweet memories flooded over me giving me more reasons to thank God: the walks through fields of wildflowers, exploring old abandoned houses together, the soothing sounds of Steve’s guitar filling the house every night.
Then I thought of our four children who depended on me. How empty my life would be without them. They would carry pieces of their dad throughout the rest of their lives. How grateful I was for each child and the time they got to spend with their dad.
I thanked God for my fifteen-year-old daughter, who had her dad’s zest for adventure and his fun easygoing way with people. I thanked God for our oldest son, who had learned from his dad how to stand tall as a man of loyalty and responsibility. Then I thanked God for my quiet seven-year-old son who had seen more suffering through his dad’s illness than most people see in a lifetime. I knew his deep compassion would be used in the future. Of course, I had to thank God for our two-year-old son who came as a total shock in the midst of acute emergencies and hospital stays.
Then I thought of all the doctors and nurses who had showed us such kindness during Steve’s long illness. I also had to thank God for our friends and family who had given us gifts of time, money and prayers during the hard times.
As I thought of the difficult battle we had gone through with Steve’s illness, I had to thank God for the strength that He had given us both. We had withstood something that was impossible to handle on our own.
Though I would miss my husband terribly, I had to thank God that he was finally free from the grip of daily suffering. I tried to imagine what it will be like some day when we are reunited in eternal life and I paused to thank God for the promise of that life to come which will be free from all sickness, death and hard times.
I suddenly realized that I was filled with a peaceful feeling of quiet joy! It had sprung from my grateful heart. My future shone brighter and full of hope. I knew I could go on. I knew I would never be alone. I felt so blessed!
My sweet friend Ola has since passed from this life. Every time I drink from the cup she gave me, I count my blessings. No matter what’s going on, it’s not long before I feel blessed beyond words. It has been said that a pessimist looks at his cup and sees it half empty, and that an optimist sees his cup half full. As I hold Ola’s cup in my hands and find things to thank God for, I realize that my cup overflows!!
~Eva Juliuson
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Rachel Allord lives and writes in central Wisconsin. Apart from hanging out with her two great kids and one awesome husband, she loves hopping on planes and traveling just about anywhere to take in the culture, sights, and most importantly, the food. She is currently working on a novel.
Linda Apple is enjoying her “second” career as an inspirational writer and motivational speaker. Her first book, Inspire! Writing from the Soul, an instructional guide to inspirational writing, has recently been published. Please visit her website at www.lindacapple.com.
Bob Arba was ordained a minister in 1997. He has been involved in Lay Ministry, Music Ministry and Youth Ministry for the past seventeen years. Bob enjoys playing music, reading, writing poetry and Christian fiction. Bob is working on his second fiction book. You may contact Bob at Arba2722@yahoo.com.
