So it’s that time of year again, and I’m doing my taxes. Reminding me just how complicated life is and how much time was spent last year in slave labor. This year is sort of my halfway mark – if I’m lucky. More if I’m really lucky; and almost the end if I’m really, really lucky. Not of filing taxes. Like death – taxes are the only other inevitable thing; but more powerful, because even after I die they will keep coming for my money.
I was recalling this morning where it all started. Do you remember your first pay? Not by your parents, who gave you an allowance to do chores, or your grandparents sliding a crisp five dollar bill into a birthday card. But the first time you worked hard for something and were paid for it?
I’m a missionary kid, and missionary kids have a weird relationship…
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