There are a few nerve wracking things in life that are just part of the experience this side of glory:
Job interviews
First dates (kind of the same as the first)
Pap smears
And taxes.
Getting my taxes done was particularly well, taxing this year. Maybe it’s ’cause I went someplace different to have them done. Rather than “The Block” taking their chip off my hard earned money, I was at least happy to hear that I could have AARP do my preparations for free. So on the last day of Spring Break, rather than slipping on a cute swimsuit and cover up, leisurely going down for continental breakfast or picking up some last minute souvenirs–I put on a winter coat and rain boots, grabbed an overly ripe banana, picked up my W2s, and barely made it to the local library for my 10:30am appointment.
A pandemic and several undergrad years ago, I had been to this same library many times. My second home, I knew the Stepford-ish staff just as well as the water stains on the ceiling. But today I walked into this state of the art, scholarly space to await my financial fate. Around me sat a gentleman with the brownest calves and the whitest tube socks, a plethora of Veterans’ baseball caps, walking canes, and a choir of ringtones set loud enough for heaven to hear. It was me and the seniors. And I don’t mean high school.
Paul C., a tax aide volunteer with a smooth, pink head the color of bubblegum, relieved me of my clipboard and rescued me from the waiting room. A walking, breathing (gasping) oxymoron, I was soaking from my mask, hot flashes and prednisone-induced (allergy season) sweat. I obediently sat down like a kid in a principal’s office . Like a spelling test, one by one I proudly handed him every document he called out for. After studying them with no expression, he asked me to have a seat back in the hall for “30 minutes” while he worked his Wizard of Oz magic. I sat–wishing I had eaten a real breakfast, wondering if I’d have time to stop at the bank before my oil change, and typing this blog on my phone.
I waited.
Hoping I’d soon be seeing green (moolah).
And waited.
Hoping that Paul C. wouldn’t rob Peter, but pay me.
And waited.
Reading what oddly enough, was my assigned Lenten lesson.
In Luke 19, Zacchaeus was a big time tax collector, the chief one. He was rich. HIs name means “pure one,” but as an extortioner and schyster, he was anything but. Like everyone else, he was curious about this Jesus guy who was drawing such a crowd. He wanted to see Jesus for himself, but because the crowd was so big and he was “Kevin Hart short,” he couldn’t. He therefore sought, or had to really search to see Him. He ran ahead, and even climbed into a tree to get a better view. Jesus looked up, saw Zacchaeus, called out to him and offered to go to his house (Can you imagine Jesus coming to your house? That’s another story for perhaps another time) . Zach received Him joyfully, happily. He accepted Christ as his Saviour, admitted how shady he had been, and even offered to give back that which he had stolen.
I have come up short a lot when it comes to God. My name, Celeste, means “heavenly,” and let’s just say it’s a constant quest. My view of Jesus has sometimes been hindered by things around me, my sights on men instead of Him. But I do so desperately want to see our Lord. I’m glad that during those times when I am seemingly out of His reach, when I don’t do what I’m supposed to–that He still looks out for me. He calls me by name and actually wants to hang out with me.
While I was the first person in the makeshift tax waiting room that morning, that afternoon I was the last one called. Over an hour later, Paul C. led me back into his cubicle and patiently explained that I had provided copies of a couple of the necessary forms, not the originals. It was ok; he had taken the time to look them up for me. He had also considered the cost of educator expenses and applied homeowner deductions. I ended up getting a larger refund than the year before, not to mention none of the ridiculous fees (Thank You Lord!).
I’m sitting here afterward, prepared to give you the most lucrative advice I can offer. There is no substitute for a relationship with Christ. It is a must do. Accepting Him as our Savior is the only way to experience heaven. Before the deadline, do the necessary; obey the IRS.
Invest in Him. Receive Him. Seek Him.
“I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
John 14:6
