Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [42]
Tears came to Veronica’s eyes as Mandy gave her a kiss and said, “I love you, Mom, and I’m so sorry.” To her, Mandy was still that precious little six-year-old girl in pigtails asking Mom to pick her up, dust her off, and tell her that everything would be all right.
Veronica left for church praying for strength to redirect her focus on the Life Challenges meeting. Tonight, she planned to change the meeting format, based on the volume of distraught calls she had received over the past week. The church parking lot was already busy as she arrived, a sure sign that all was not well in Mankato.
Martha Earling, the church secretary, was at the door to greet her, and they quickly headed for the dimly lit church basement to move chairs, rearrange tables, and brew the coffee. A quick tally revealed the headcount had more than doubled, and she felt anxiety pangs as she walked to the front at six thirty sharp to start the meeting.
“Good evening, folks. I’m so glad you’re here for our Life Challenges program. Please make yourself at home, and feel free to get up at any time for a cup of coffee or cookies.” After saying a short prayer, she said, “I’d like to change the format of the meeting tonight and have you choose the topic for discussion.” Seeing no objections, she continued.
“I’ve heard from many of you this past week about your concerns with rising gasoline prices, personal finances, layoffs, making ends meet, and some of the scary things happening overseas. This definitely fits the purpose of our Life Challenges support group, and it might be helpful to get your concerns out on the table tonight rather than have me pick a topic. “What would you like to talk about tonight?” she asked, hoping for at least a couple of hands.
She was surprised when at least a half dozen hands shot up in unison. “Mary, what would you like to talk about tonight?”
Mary Inglebritson, the talker in her family, said, “We’re getting killed by the price of gasoline. It was over seven bucks a gallon when we filled up yesterday, and in a three-car family it’ll cost us over two hundred dollars a week for gas.” Others chimed in with similar complaints.
“Lawrence, how about you, what would you like to talk about?”
“I operate a small regional trucking firm with six drivers. They all have families, and I want to keep them employed, but my business is already off due to the economy. There’s no way I can pass off the higher gas costs to my customers, and I’m scared to death I’ll have to lay people off. I feel rotten and don’t know what to do.”
Margie Schulstad didn’t even wait to be called before she blurted out “I listened to that Wellington Crane the other day, and he said we were on a one-way street to Armageddon and would soon be there if we don’t take a stand with our Japanese friends. I just finished reading Revelation in the Bible, and I’m wondering if we aren’t living in the end times. It’s scary.”
Veronica was amazed at the outpouring. It seemed for every concern she noted, two more hands would go up in an endless procession of frustration and anxiety. She finally stopped to offer an observation.
“There’s a pattern here, and I’ll try to summarize it. The common denominator is fear. We are fearful for our jobs, our futures, our families, our community, our ability to drive our cars with these awful gas prices, and even our very souls as some of us wonder if we’re living in end times.” Veronica could see she had connected with her audience.
“As most of you know, I’m an alcoholic in a recovery program. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s this: dealing with our fears, shame, anger, guilt, resentments, insecurities, and other things is a lifelong challenge. The events causing them—things you’ve mentioned tonight like loss of a job, raging gas prices, frightening international events,