Job Pressures

“What’s wrong, Josef?” Mendoza asked after he got himself adjusted. Concern was etched on his face, “You said it was urgent.”

Ranell glanced mournfully out of his cabin window at the barest sliver of dull silver light on the horizon. This time of year, people above the arctic circle would go months without seeing a real sunrise. The darkness was an oppressive weight for his battered soul. “I think she’s leaving me.”

Mendoza sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. “Josef, I can’t tell you what to do. But you’ve told me many times about how important your duty to GML is to you, not to mention all the people they employ.”

Ranell’s shoulders slumped. “I go to bed every night thinking about that, Father. We’re talking about thousands of people! And they’re all relying on me to find some way through this.”

“God will give you the strength to do whatever must be done, my son.” Mendoza’s words rang with the authority of one who has suffered much in the face of insurmountable odds. “What you should pray for now is the discernment to know the right path to take.”  

Ranell’s hands trembled as ho considered Medoza’s word. His voice broke. “I can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep pretending like everything’s okay when it’s not. I’ve hit my wall, Father.” Tears threatened Ranell’s eyes forcing him to pull away the visor to wipe them. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. But I’ve just got nothing left to give.”