It is Veterans Day and I am grateful to my loved ones who have served, and all others. However, I can only be as sincere as my own experiences allow. I can remember my father's tears for his fallen fellow soldiers, and my mother's tears over friends and boyfriends who didn't make it home, but I didn't suffer through it like they did.
This has made me think about a topic I need to write about. We are kind people, most of us humans, and we feel that we have sufficient sympathy for those who suffer. Yet our understanding is limited to what we have experienced for ourselves. This is the part that scares me, you know, the part about God giving us trials for our own perfecting. Sometimes I feel that if I don't have enough empathy for someone else, I will be doomed to experience their trial.
When I say that God has blessed my life, it is an understatement! My path has been filled with great parents, friends, and loved ones. Earthly Angels (and other types) have come to my aid more times than I can recall. I have a husband who worked for many years to support our family, and three children that I adore. We have all been touched by many miracles.
I am enduring another type of trial, one that (by my own admission) I would happily take rather than an ill child, the death of a loved one, and some other things I've endured in the past. This is where my hope exists from day to day. In that space between the now, and how bad it was then. I can't tell you how many times a week I say to myself, "It's not as bad as when . . ." That mantra sort of keeps me going.
Since I was 20 years old, I have had good employment and health benefits. After marriage, when Dakota was a year old, Ray gained employment at Springville City. We spent the next 16 years with a comfortable income and great health insurance and benefits. I always looked around me at those who did not have these things and wondered how they did it. And admittedly, I judged those whom I should not have judged.
In July of 2010, without warning or compensation of any kind, Ray lost his 15 year job. Within literally days, life as we knew it was over. It was probably a tender mercy to me that I did not realize then how devastating this occurence would be to our lives. We were left without wages, health insurance, benefits, and could not qualify for help. All that remained was my part-time job at the Library to support us. We would, over the months, be forced to cash out everything we had worked so hard to gain. As the days turned into months, and soon into a year, and now even longer, our losses seemed to domino and it was difficult to keep from sinking into despair.
With help from so many, we are still scraping along. I have gained another part-time job. It's not enough to pay our bills and we still have no insurance, but I'm so grateful for it. I have learned to work hours that I never thought I could. Seven days a week, I keep it up. I have two of the best bosses anywhere, and unbelievable co-workers. Without them, I could not make it through the days. I've come to appreciate all the gift cards, money, candy, and kind encouraging notes that are so often left in my locker at the Library. Most of all, they keep me smiling and saying "You can do this. Just four more hours." Because, like it or not, I am one of "them" now. One of those people that I felt so sorry for before this new life. I understand the exhaustion that often clouds your thinking and makes you forget things. And the fear that permeates every moment, wondering how to slide through another week, with a roof over your head and food for your family. Once I thought I understood this, but I didn't. Now I do! Will it make me a better person? I hope so.
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