Loaves and Fishes

I wish I’d had the presence of mind to write this blog under a pseudonym. That way, I would never feel the need to hold back, and keep from revealing information that would be embarrassing to my husband, kids, or the many friends I love.

So, we’re going to say that this entry in the blog is about someone else… my poor, dear friend Impaciente who lost her job three weeks ago today.

Impaciente still hasn’t received a nickel of severance pay or Unemployment compensation, and she just spent half of the money she had in her checking account to buy a pair of dress pants for her son Ayúdame, who lost his job four weeks ago. He’s on his way to a job interview right now; she has a second interview scheduled for tomorrow, which she doesn’t want me to jinx by talking about it.

She’s afraid they’re going to shut off her utilities before her severance check arrives on Friday—if it does, indeed, arrive as expected—and she knows she’ll have to get on the computer tomorrow night at midnight, to pay the auto insurance before that gets cancelled.

Speaking of insurance, her health coverage expired yesterday. She called the pharmacy last night to refill all her meds while she was still on her plan; they refilled all but one, which the insurance company felt she wouldn’t need until this morning. Ooops! It may be a while before she picks that one up. She applied for some kind of government health insurance available to the unexpectedly retired, but since she never heard back from them, it has become evident that she and her husband will have to start buying coverage through his employer… thereby cutting an evil, fat slice out of the only paycheck they have to live on.

And yet, Impaciente feels immensely fortunate. As she was driving home from the clothing store today, she saw a young man on Route 18 holding up a sign: “Homeless. Anything will help.” She looked through her bag for loose bills. She reached into the back seat to see if she still had that bag of laundry quarters. She looked at the young man more closely—he was filthy, scrawny, talking to himself, and clearly at the end of his rope. Finding nothing, she suddenly thought, “I have nothing.” And then, she realized just how wrong she was.

Impaciente was in a paid-for, well-functioning car, headed for home, clean and well dressed, and about an hour away from cooking a nutritious dinner for herself and her loved ones, including the beloved husband who works so very hard to keep the family afloat.  While her own next paycheck hasn’t arrived, she knows that something’s on the way… and she knows that opportunities are presenting themselves that will bring  continued sustenance to herself and her family.

I don’t want to be as foolish as Impaciente was when she thought she had nothing. I want to know—today and always—that when you find five rolls and two little fishes in your basket, it’s time to invite  5,000 people to dinner.

You have to have faith. The Lord will provide.

 

 

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