Moocher

I am tired after a totally restless night. I couldn’t fall asleep till I saw what our banking account balance was. I know that sounds like such a pitiful thing. But it’s no different than waiting by the post office for your SSI check to get put in the box. Or waiting for your Food Stamp book to get mailed so you could feed your kids. I remember the shame I felt while the cashier counted out my change in food stamp script or the embarrassment of checking out with WIC vouchers.

The stigma that was implanted in my head as a middle class kid being raised in the suburbs. To becoming an adult in the late-70’s when it all started falling apart. And those jobs we were promised at the Paper Mill were no more. Without the connections, I was stuck in the service industry for my entire work career. When I finally had the time to pick up a trade, my body and attitude were so broken, it never did me any good.

So now as things are finally starting to look up: a great apartment, my retirement in place, and the family healthy and productive. You’d think I’d take a moment to relax. Instead when the news plays, a money order is lost, and groceries decide to go up all while your check stays the same. So at the first sign of something going wrong you head back to that Post Office waiting with the rest of the “moochers” on society.
 
“Judge not, that you be not judged” (Matthew 7:1 NKJV) often hovers in my mind. Not so much meaning not to judge, but to judge with the same measure that you want to be judged. Like I said, I am tired. And the fear at the moment is subsiding knowing that this month’s bills are being taken care of. But it also doesn’t excuse me for judging others and their situations. So in my exhaustion let me say, “Pity the fool and help the weak”. For you never know when you will find yourself in a similar situation. Stuck with the label most elites enjoy calling us, “moochers”.