Come Home

“When can you come home?”

Ranell took a moment to compose himself. Then he sighed heavily. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking about too. Maybe it’s finally time I quit this job. Find something else to do. Although I don’t see how I can in this economy. I’ll be out on the street with all the others…”

“No, Josef,” Mendoza chided gently. Consider this, “Riches are of no help on the day of fury, but righteousness saves from death.”

Ranell frowned, “Is that from the Bible?”

Mendoza nodded. “Proverbs, 11:4”

“What does it mean?” Ranell tried to scratch his head, but his fingers encountered only the visor. He’d forgotten he was wearing it. Dropping his hand awkwardly back to the table, he asked. “In my situation, Father, what is righteousness? Staying with my job and fulfilling my commitments, or leaving all this to work on my marriage?”

“Let us reconsider your question this way,” Mendoza had a way of deep listening that made people feel like their story was his total focus. “Which would feel more like death to you? Losing your job, or losing your wife?”

“Hmm…” Ranell felt his shoulders slump. “When you put it that way, it’s really pretty simple, isn’t it?”

Mendoza said nothing. He just waited.

“Yeah, losing my wife would be like death for me.” Ranell tried to rub his forehead but only encountered the visor again. It was annoying.

“So?” Mendoza let the word hang in the air.

Ranell stared out the cabin window into the tortured clouds of the dark, gray night. This is getting so old, he thought. My future lies back home, not traveling these endless skies. “It’s clear now, Father. I do need to quit. Thank you for helping me see that.”