Eight at the Rate

I woke up thinking this phrase this morning. It's what the boys at my last job used to say when they turned down overtime. "I'm just working 8 at the rate." The reason I was thinking this is because I thought I had gotten 8 hours of sleep and that never happens. I was downright giddy at the thought of sleeping a full 8 hours. Of course then I realized that I had gone to bed at 11:30 not 11 and had woken up at 5:30 not 7. (even though I did lay in bed until 7 so that has to count for something right? Maybe that's just laziness.)

Anyway, the phrase made me think back to the times I had at that job. Then I realized that I didn't really have any great times at that job. I didn't get too friendly with my co-workers because they were all men and I don't want friends like them. The only perk I could remember about that job (besides payday) was having lunch with my Dad.

We worked together and having lunch with him everyday was a truly special time in my life. It's not like we had huge discussions about life or he bestowed magical wisdom to me at lunch everyday. It was his mere company. It's the only time in my life that I've had my Dad all to myself. It really meant a lot to me. It's the only thing that I really miss about working there.

The company that owns the plant he works for is in trouble. Honestly, a lot of companies are at risk of going under during this economic crisis. This particular company is an international one and its American plants are all in danger of closing. The plant that my Dad works at has laid off a lot of people, given others early retirement and now has announced that unless things turn around they will be closing this particular branch in December.

My parents have seen hard times before and they aren't worried. They possess a peace that most cannot understand because they know that God's plan is at work here. Just the same, if you would remember to pray for them and the six kids they still have living at home it would mean a lot to me.

I mentioned when I told you about the miscarriage that there was a huge difference in dealing with the stress of that situation alone and dealing with it once I shared the news with each of you. I firmly believe this was the result of your prayers.

Back in the early 90's Steven Curtis Chapman penned the words, "I can still feel the prayers you prayed for me all those years and I see now more than ever the difference they have made." I believe with my whole heart that this is true. When we pray for each other, God is faithful in providing peace to those in turmoil and reminding us that he is taking care of us, even when we can't see Him working.

Next week I'm hoping to get the opportunity to share an excerpt from my Aunt's book. It's something I've been wanting to do for a few weeks now and it looks like next week I'll get the chance. Make sure you check in. It's quite a treat.

Have a happy fourth of July weekend with your families.


Dione said...

Wow! You changed your blog! That wouldn't happen to be Trent Edwards playing guitar, would it?

I couldn't agree with you more about prayer. The first Sunday of each month we fast for 2 meals along with prayer. I will remember them in my prayers and also this Sunday when I fast.

By the way, how is your father's health?

Missy said...

My Dad is doing fine. The test results came back negative. He is supposed to go back for a follow-up in a few months to make sure the cancer hasn't returned.

That is sooooooo NOT Trent Edwards. :)

coach said...

I also have gotten to work with my father for close to 4 years now and although my father is a major pain in the behind I still enjoy being there with him and know that when he retires I will be sad. However, I enjoyed working with this one girl back during my Mcdonalds days. I wonder who that is. She was a great looking girl. What would have happened if I had married her?

Punk said...

You know, those handful of summers I worked at the plant, I have to say that lunches with Dad were a highlight for me too. I can't remember conversations, but I know that the first summer, we would sometimes sit in his little haven in the oilhouse and read. And the second summer, I sat in the lunch room with him and the guys while they talked trivia and threw foil balls at each other.

Wow. Warm fuzzies. Thanks for the trip down memory lane.

Coach, I wouldn't provoke your wife if I were you. She's jealous and violent and tends to brandish knives to make a point. I'm just saying, tread lightly.