Tax Season

"I am come that they might have life and that they might have it more abundantly."

~ John 10:10~

               "Tax season!" Mary Jo had announced in November... six months before taxes were due. Three months before the onslaught of forms would start dogging their mailboxes. But it was a good thing she did since the window of free tax aide had shrunk. That, and Cody's new job would effect what weekend they could gather together. 

                 Many a groans are uttered, burying the human race throughout the sentence of 'tax season'. Mary Jo, however, didn't utter a foul word or complaint. Her opportunist mind had been the first to suggest the crazy tradition, between her and her best friend, Beth. They had been post-grads at the time, scrapping nickels and dimes from their first jobs. And as far as either of them were concerned, there was no difference between W-2s and hieroglyphics. Thank goodness for tax aide! But how to look forward to it, much less keep track of all the 1040s and 1099s?
               "You think too much." Beth moaned to Mary Jo, the morning person of the duo. To which Mary Jo had just smirked in her sleepy face. "That's how I come up with all the good ideas."
               As far as Mary Jo's ideas went, she could've come up with worse. In the dawn of the month of February, they started camping out in the basement of a local church, where the free aide was offered every year. Their first year was spent like any greenhorn- ill-prepared and a four-hour wait, with shoeboxes as their tax folders. The three subsequent years seasoned them to where they were prepping for it like one might a hike into the Rockies. Food, drink, games, knitting needles and yarn, magazines, and eventually, a first name basis with the AARP volunteers. The turn over in faces didn't have any faze on that part.
               Then the girls were met with true love; Cody and Nathan. Not on the same day or in the same place; not even in the same state! But it ended in rings for Beth and Mary Jo, and an unexpected commrodery for the boys. Ninety minutes of freeway eventually separated the couples, but that didn't mean much to two female friends. They found reasons to see each other, sound or not. But February... February took special precedence. Maybe because it revolved around finding joy in the mundane.
              So Mary Jo announced it and it was planned out as usual. Tax Dy was always a Saturday, but the joy would begin Friday night with Mary Jo and Cody welcoming Beth and Nathan into their home. Pizza or Japanese cuisine was ordered and the first of any movie trilogy was already playing as the foursome gabbed over pepperoni or soy noodles. They'd stay up later then necessary, but that was all part of the feel, pushing them back to the all-nighters of college. Watch alarms set for 7:10am, Nathan would manage to get the rest of the slugs out fo bed for coffee. The caffeine was the only way to jumpstart Beth's body from the couch, much less into the car and down the church stairs to the basement. Any steps in between, it was often Mary Jo's job to encourage her friend. Not hard for someone who started every day at 5:30!
               Arriving at the church was the easy part. It was the sign-in and subsequent wait that made the presence of friends so essential for successful taxes. Otherwise, it all went to bonk. The shortest wait Beth and Mary Jo ever had was still over 90 minutes... but then, that seemed to be half of the fun. Armed with their coffee, breakfast bars, and any game from solitaire to Scrabble, the four friends sat, played, and talked. They remained the spectacle, even after their names were called. And neither couple realized it, but people walked away and into their own homes, carrying questions with them.
               Why such a fuss for a grueling task as taxes? What was the purpose, their intention for making such a bother? A likely answer would be found in the oblivious glance Mary Jo and Beth often gave one another. Followed by a shrug and a 'Why not?'

THE END

A Stage Apart

           He was a hypocrite for being here. But he had already gone so far as to make the drive. Even so, after grumbling and refusing the money for Erin’s registration, he now found himself $35 poorer for purchasing a measly day ticket to be here. And after telling her that she would need to get the money for this conference on her own. I feel pretty low… did that lowness drive me here, or something else?

            He didn’t know where Erin had gotten the full amount in just over three months before the conference. She was sixteen, she baby-sat when she didn’t have tests to study for, and her college fund had been off limits. He’d been surprised when she hadn’t fought him on that. Rather; ”Ok, Dad. Those are your rules. I’ll pray for the money in another way.”

            Her phrasing of that sentence had appeared off, but her demeanor much more so. Erin had been a tantrum child since she had discovered a will of her own. Arguing and biting for her way or her say. He was proud of this, of sorts. Though lately, he had been watching it fade away. Except for the fire in her eyes; it was there still, and it burned bright. Erin had bluish-gray eyes that he swore could turn red like tempered stone with she got going. Maybe that had contributed to how she had gotten the money.

            No sense in prolonging it any farther. He got out of the car, glared up into the sun, and starting walking up the sidewalk. He clicked the lock mechanism and the car beeped behind him. It sounded lonely, though there was no shortage of cars in the lot. Had they paid $35 to be here as well? Or had they been here for the entire week? That would cost them, for sure.

            He needed to be honest though. There were worse expenses then this teenage retreat that Erin had been so persistent about. Cars and college, to name the obvious few. More so, it was the nature of the retreat that had him worried. It was a nationwide event for grace brethren churches. And, apparently, Erin had been attending youth services at the one in their hometown for a while now. To be frank, it beat wildly against the agnostic views he was quick to uphold in his house.

            “Are you asking me not to go Dad, or are you telling me?” Erin had asked him when he’d first learned of her interest in going. What could he say? He believed that the world, being made of people and nothing more, would teach his children the good and the bad of it. This would instill in them firm, realistic perceptions of others and themselves. 

            He heard the music while still two dorms back from the field house. These events, he was finding, were held on college campuses that were abandoned for the summer. The tall building shock waved the vibrations of sound out beyond the walls, muffled and yet not. He cringed, never a huge fan of loud music. It was hardly a parent thing; he just wanted to keep his eardrums intact. He trotted closer in the sticky July humidity, only to find little relief inside. He was met with a multi-colored crowd of backs, all pressed in toward the massive black and silver stage that spanned the far end of the indoor track.

            Every chain will break as broken hearts declare His praise.

            Noise emitted from this stage in the same shock waves he had heard outside. It pounded the walls, slammed the roof, wanting out. Lights of red, purple, blue and green swiped the rows of ecstatic kids. They circled overhead and blinded him every five seconds. He was keeping to the edge of this conjoined mass, but could still smell the close-knit heat and hype of collected youth. As he moved closer to the stage, he saw them growing tighter and deeper with every inch.

            Who can stop the Lord Almighty.

            Their voices were singing along as the chorus hit. A wave of the same words, front to back. Their energy was undeniable. Adults, sitting or standing on the sidelines, held smiled of equal energy on their faces. It had him wondering… what did Erin look like in this madness? What had they enticed to her, to get her running with them?

            “We live this life because there’s nothing else to it.” He had said so many times. “Any hopes and dreams you have are only born out of solid work.”

            He pictured the additional lecture he was gearing for her. Hard work and rational decisions. Not blind faith, Erin. Faith starts with an ‘f’ because it’s folly. There may not be a point, but what’s the point in screwing up what you have?

            In that moment, he glimpsed onto the stage. He was almost to the front now, to the far left of the lead singer. Amplifiers blocked the corners and the space for the band swam with the rapid sweeps of the lights. And, there behind the lead singer, he saw Erin playing her bass guitar.

            The God who comes to save is here to set the captives free.

            Her feet pounded with the chords that she was throwing her entire arms into. In the glimmers of light passing over her, he caught the sweat on her skin, beneath her shirt, and matting her hair to her neck. There was a smile on his lips before he could help it. He had gotten her that guitar, watched her practice with it week upon a week. That’s what she needs to be believing in! Hard work, commitment, independence…

            “Our God is the Lion,” the crowd proclaimed, the music reaching a moment of stillness. “The Lion of Judah!”

            He was startled then when Erin’s hands stopped strumming. Her head dropped, chin to chest, right hand raised in the air. Stretching, searching… for what?

            He’s roaring in power and fighting our battles.

            Erin’s head stayed down, swaying and hidden in her sweaty, clumped hair. She almost looked dead. He banished the thought, then wondered if she was, in fact, dehydrated. 

            “And every knee will bow before Him!” the crowd went on singing.

            In her own exclamation, Erin’s head thrust up, joining her hand in its reach. The lights had calmed their flailing, bringing some focus to her face. He was shocked to find that it wasn’t just sweat covering her cheeks, but tears shining over them. Erin’s cheeks were red with them, her eyes closed, and lips moving.

            “The Lamb who was slain…” so the song continued, the music picking back up. Erin hesitated, staying as she was. Like she didn’t want to break from her stance.

            He stared at this portrait of his child. She looked so… exposed… fragile. Yet, unashamed. There were volumes there he couldn’t name and this frightened him. He often complimented himself on being a parent who knew his children. Matched them in openness, honesty… but this. He had never seen Erin like this. Another breathless moment, and she lowered her hand. Flawless on the wires, she jumped back into the song. But the previous image was sticking to him now. Her hand, her tears, her face…

            Was that his daughter now?

            Or was she someone else’s?

            He had barely recognized the one on stage.

            “And every knee will bow before the Lion and the Lamb.”

THE END