The Christmas Bonus

1987 was a year of great change and adjustment for our family as we left Pennsylvania and moved to Virginia because my husband found employment there.  Although my parents and brothers and their families all lived in the same area of Virginia, I felt a great sense of loss because of friends I left behind.  I also left behind certain “social positions” such as President of our local chapter of Women’s Aglow in Somerset, heavy involvement in our church at Indian Lake Christian Center, and a home Bible study with dear friends with whom we'd met for a number of years.   Here in Virginia, I was a "nobody."  I didn’t feel established.  The neighbors were new, roads were new, traffic was heavier and faster, and we’d had to find a new church and make new friends.  We felt led to go to a different church than my parents and brothers attended, so we didn’t see them on a regular basis.  Everyone seemed involved in their own face-paced lifestyle and circle of friends. 

Now, in a few days, we'd be celebrating our second Christmas in Virginia.  Smiling faces and excited chatter greeted me as our family of five gathered for dinner on that December evening years ago.  Our oldest son told of a bonus check he’d received from his boss, and our daughter said she’d also received one from her employer.  My husband got a nice Christmas bonus as well.  

I told each one I was glad for them, but suddenly the monster of self-pity reared its ugly head and hissed in my ear.  Where is my bonus?  Everyone except me is doing something worthwhile and getting rewarded for it.  My throat tightened and I turned away so they wouldn’t see my tears.  What was the matter with me? 

The family ate in ten minutes what it had taken me hours to prepare.  Afterwards, my teenage boys headed to their bedrooms downstairs and my daughter to hers down the hall from the kitchen.  My husband went to the living room to watch TV, and I was left alone, staring at a messy table and even more kitchen duty.  Where was my free time?  The monster squeezed my heart, sending streams of tears down my cheeks.  I felt cheated, unappreciated, taken for granted, and worthless.  The emotional pain in my chest was palpable as the monster stabbed me.

Feeling quite sorry for myself, I shuffled around the table, stacked plates and silverware, and plodded to the kitchen.  I looked out the kitchen window into the inky blackness of night and set the plates in the sink, then headed back to the dining room for another load of dirty dishes.  I gave my husband a furtive glance to see if he’d volunteer to help.  Nope, he was enjoying his TV program.  Suddenly, the words of Joyce Meyer came to my remembrance: “You can either be pitiful or powerful, but you can’t be both.”  

I straightened my shoulders and decided the monster had played his last hand.  I dismissed him with a stiff rebuke, and he fled in terror at the name of Jesus.  The Holy Spirit helped me realize that Jesus will reward me for ministering to my family.  Jesus was my Christmas bonus, and I was honored to serve Him by caring for my loved ones.  What could be better than that?

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy