In the Valley of Shadows - Part 4

August 8, 2003 was D-day. Departure day.  We were tired of living under the gun wondering when the Sheriff would show up and lock us out of our own home. Or what had been our home till we finally fell 3 months behind in our mortgage. Not knowing anyone else who'd been thru foreclosure, we had only rumor that bordered on wild speculation to guide us re what to expect when.  The bank was no help in that regard either. We realized that God had forestalled the inevitable as long as he was going to. There was no grand cavalry poised to ride to the rescue. So, we packed it in.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I cleaned the house one last time and weeded the planting beds. We mowed the grass.  I watched the cows make their morning line thru the woods and down to the creek. I noted that the summer's undergrowth had begun to die back. I grieved over the boys' play fort and wondered how many months till someone else's kids would bring life back to the yard. I walked the long driveway remembering the chalk drawings they had created to welcome trick or treaters.  Why us? What had we done to deserve what was happening to us? I kept taking deep breaths to try and drink it all in one last time. 

No one from our old life showed up to say goodbye. I kept telling the boys how lucky we were to have a place to go.  Grandma needed us. She had been diagnosed with a rare neurological condition.  The boys would distract and amuse her.  I could be there to provide all the help that would delay a nursing home admit.  This was a good thing.  This was a good thing even tho' I had no idea how long this good thing would last.  Maybe forever?

While Jeff pounded the pavement hoping proximity to a bigger city would finally equal a job, I set about developing a routine for the boys and my in-laws. Several months later, Jeff noted that he had never seen his mother laugh as hard or as often as she had since we'd been with them.  This is a good thing, I reminded myself.  Even her doctors agreed saying her muscle strength and tone had improved since our arrival and noted how rare it was for a patient to do anything but gradually decline given her diagnosis.

6 years later

Our 5YO was pleased to have a captive audience that was unable to escape.  He'd hand her a whiffle ball and then grab a big plastic bat.  She played many a game of baseball without leaving her chair.  He made costumes. She became the queen. He became the king. They dueled for hours with light sabers.  When he'd finish his kindergarten classes for the day, he'd crawl up beside her and give her simple lessons in spelling and math.  On one memorable day, he climbed up beside her and announced that it was time for her Bible lesson.  He began to faithfully recount the story of Adam and Eve building up to a dramatic climax.  He became electrically animated and said, "Eve gave Adam that apple, and when he took a bite, Amma, their clothes DISAPPEARED!"  We can still erupt with laughter at the memory of her hysterical shrieks of mirth as I said, "Obviously, we need a remedial lesson in Adam and Eve..."

Jeff eventually landed a job at Lowe's. We filed Chapter 13 to give us a little more time. The filing stopped the foreclosure. We clung to hope that the unbelievable would happen which would allow us to reclaim our little house in the big woods.  We faced the officer of the court. Help had never come. We explained in dry, monotonous detail how we had fallen from grace.  It looked as if she wanted to say, "You only owe $6, 000 in medical debt and about as much in mortgage debt.  Isn't there ANYONE to help you?"  I wanted to tell her what God had told me.  Nothing could stop what was coming.  I figured she'd think I was crazy.  She banged her gavel. Our old life was really over.

The boys and I spent our days at the park or library.  When we'd leave our home away from home, I tried to erase any sign that we were there or coming back. I realized one day that it was as if I was trying to be as invisible as I felt.  If I could make us disappear while we were gone from the house, it might not be so draining when we got back  If we were in our car, we were praying broken prayers.  Reminding God we still trusted him and were waiting on him to show us the next step.  The cone of silence grew more dense as even God quit talking.

my alter ego, Nancy

I stumbled upon a wonderful group of homeschool friends.  For months, I didn't say a word about our plight.  I was so adept at wearing my public face that my mask-girl even had a name--Nancy we all jokingly called the giddy side of me.  Nancy was my alter-ego, life of the party who could have earned a great living on the stand up comedy circuit. No one had a clue that on the inside I was a wreck who was homeless and invisible.  They saved my sanity and never knew what they were doing.

I never said the word 'homeless' because we weren't living in our car under a bridge.  Then, I read a newspaper article about the 'new homeless'.  Hmmm...people like me living back and forth between different relatives.  I really was a statistic.

November of 2004, 15 months into our journey thru the shadows and 4 months after they auctioned off our house, the phone rang.  Ten days later, Jeff was an engineer again.  We saw the end of the valley, but the shadows between us and the mountain were even more disconcerting than the ones behind us.

If you have wondered where Lemony Snickett gets his material, I must go on the record to say, I'm not your girl! Everyone has a story, and yours probably drawfs mine. I'm just the one who is taking off  my mask and inviting you along for the ride.  I thank you for coming.  You humble me to tears because you have chosen to share my journey.  If you know someone is hurting, click 'share' and tell them you know a fraidy cat they might like to get to know.  See you tomorrow, maybe?

Invisibility and Homelessness in a Fraidy Cat World -- Part 2

I'd love to tell you that the darkest years were a lot like labor and that when they were over, I forgot them.  While the nuances and minutia of the individual days are lost in the blur of battle, pivotal moments are as real now as they were when they unfolded.  Some good. Some bad. I wish they were all water under the bridge.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Early on, we became the 'sexy' Christian cause.  Our family dilemma was the hot new thing to rally around and trouble shoot. You know how Christians are tho'.  Spiritual ADD drives them on to the next cause as they grow bored and frustrated because life, or God, does not bring about instantaneous solutions. When it becomes apparent that He expects us to forbear with His plan - and each other in the process - the glittery cause of the moment loses its 'sexy' luster. We grow weary and ready to move on to problems with easier solutions. 

In those early, almost heady days, of waiting on God, we were bolstered and strengthened.  A car would drive up, the occupant would get out and almost wordlessly hand us an envelope.  Smiles would take the place of words. My little family would huddle in the kitchen and breathe in deeply as the air around us grew light with relief.  Extended family sent cards with gifts that enabled us to buy groceries or pay a light bill.  On 2 occasions, total strangers paid our mortgage. We opened the stranger's envelope and found the amount to cover our mortgage even tho' no one but us knew what was required to pay the bill. Surely, we'd make it. Things would turn around before the end came. We were still on God's radar screen and had an envelope in our hand to prove it!

Labor Day Monday of 2002, I opened the fridge to find no green vegetable and no protein source left. Milk was running low.  I had no grocery money. "I have 2 children," I pleaded with God. "Have you forgotten me? Don't forget them!"  A few hours later, the doorbell rang. A neighbor with whom we had little contact, but for whom I had prepared meals when they had a baby, stood holding 2 bags. "Can you use these? We had a picnic that was rained out.  These were left."  It was a bag of chicken breasts and a salad mix. I burst into tears and told him what he was providing and about my desperate prayer. He cried too. Jeff found a couple of jobs that lasted 4-6 months. I found full-time seasonal work with a charitable organization.   Surely we'd make it before we lost everything.

We put the house up for sale. Realtors paraded through assuring us that our 3+ acres in a bedroom community near Charlotte would get snapped up within days.  I could hear God's voice in the ears of my soul, "There is nothing you can do...be still...the house is already gone."  I looked at Jeff and choked out, "I don't think we will be able to give this house away."  Somehow, I just knew God meant what he said that day when his voice interrupted my vacuuming.  It would take 3 Realtors, 2 FSBO efforts, and a foreclosure vulture, but the end would come before the house would sell.

Despite all we could do, the phone did not ring nor did the mailbox hold work related solutions for either of us. The kindness and patience of friends and strangers was becoming exhausted.  Friends no longer looked us in the eye.  Not only had the phone quit ringing with work related calls, social calls became fewer and farther between.  More and more we were an isolated island unto ourselves.

I'm sure that some of it was that folks just ran out of hopeful things to say and were tired of the same old, "no solution yet," answer.  I reached a point that I could not remain in the sanctuary on Sundays. I felt like we needed to put a score board up in the vestibule of the church to keep folks convinced of our steadfast efforts to solve our own problems.  I'd slip out at some point in the service to cry silent tears in a bathroom stall.  One bitter Sunday, I heard the door open and the clickty clack of shoes approaching.  The feet stopped in front of my stall, toes pointed my way. "I'm sorry.  I wish I could fix it.  I'm sorry."  The feet retreated leaving me to my isolation and agony.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Every day I wondered, "Will this be the day the phone rings?"  2001 became 2002 which became 2003. Time disappeared like dandelions blowing in the wind. The foreclosure letters began to arrive. The end had come.  As improbable as it seems, other than our mortgage, our ONLY debt was $6,000.00 in medical debt.  Our choice was simple: maintain our COBRA insurance coverage or hold on to the house. We chose medical and became a political statistic - invisible and homeless in America.

Whew, I'm exhausted. Are you? We are in deep water, you and I, dear reader. I hope you will continue to bear with me as I share my story.  If you haven't been through something similar, there's a big chance you know, or will know, someone who faces times just as tough. I wish I could tell you I had an easy answer for them.  I don't. I'm still finding answers of my own 10 years later.  Still in all, I hope my story will serve as a light in a tunnel for you and me both as I write my way back to God.

Invisibility and Homelessenss in a Fraidy Cat World -- Part I

The counselor leaned forward as her eyes softened. "What can I do for you?"  Any thinly veiled hold I had on composure melted away instantaneously.  Twelve years of anxiety burst forth. It was as if Noah's fountains of the deep were breaking loose again after so many centuries. When the wracking sobs stopped, I simply said, "I want you to tell me if I'm crazy or not.  I'll take any test, and as many tests, as you want to administer.  I just need to know for sure one way or the other."

It was early spring of 2011. I had lived 3 lifetimes since the planes hit the Twin Towers.  I had finally run out of energy to run anymore. I had managed to navigate the years from 1999 when Jeff got sick thru 2005 when our lives finally began to stabilize in such a way that a few friends would say, "You have the strongest faith of anyone I've ever met."  I hadn't felt strong. I had just felt very sure that God had a plan....a good plan...no matter how mystifying it was from my perspective. I had done what mothers do. I kept juggling plates and balls and knives and whatever else there was at hand to juggle -- hoping to outlast the need.

In that mean season after 9/11 when the skies were empty of any flying objects other than birds, we settled into an other-worldly routine.  The phone that had been ringing off the hook with job prospects stopped ringing.  It would not ring again for 3 years.  Our COBRA premiums began to hurt. They were more costly than our mortgage.  Given Jeff's health and 2 boys with asthma, we couldn't forgo insurance coverage.  All the crisis planning we had done before Jeff got sick was no match for an economy that was blistered by the flames of 9/11.

Dollars began to count.  I had 2 young children to feed but was loathe to go to the grocery store knowing I had no way to replace anything I spent.  On one particularly brutal day, I cried the entire 6 miles. "God. What am I going to do? You have to help me."  I purchased $98.00 worth of necessities and headed home with a huge gaping wound in my soul.

I pulled up to the mailbox and mindlessly yanked out the stack of envelopes dreading the chore of separating out Jeff's medical bills. I put it off till the groceries were in place.  I numbly began to thumb thru the stack of mail dreading the appearance of the tell-tale windowed envelopes. Tucked in the middle of what was otherwise only junk mail was a smaller envelope. The handwriting was neat and almost antiquated in style. I recognized the name of a widowed, retired teacher in our church.  Her daughter and I sat beside each other in the choir. Out of the card fell a check for $100.00.

I called our now perpetually wide-eyed and just turned 11YO.  "Look. God sent a postcard from Heaven to remind us he has not forgotten us.  It will pay for our groceries and give me a $2.00 tip for going to get them."   It is easy to trust when postcards arrived via friends who are God's hand extended on this earth.  Little did we know that the months of uncertainty we had endured would morph into years.

courtesy Mad Penguin Creations

A few days later, I was vacuuming. I looked out the window at the woods that surrounded our house and hid us from the outside world. I felt my heart flutter. It was as if my soul had ears. My soul sensed the presence of children, my children, laughing with lightheartedness and relief.  I froze trying to hold on to that moment.  As crazy as it sounds, it was as if God then said, "Remember: I can restore in a day what I take away if and when I choose.  It's all mine.  Don't try to hold on to this house. It's already gone.  Nothing you will do can divert what I am about to do. Trust me.  Be still. You have always been able to conquer life. What is coming will not be conquered until I bring the solution. Be Still. Trust me. Be still." 

I was alone, so it didn't matter. I erupted at God: "Are you CRAZY? I cannot be still. My friends already think I'm nuts because they don't SEE me doing more to affect our situation.  And you want me to stop?  This world is a 2 paycheck, pull yourself up by your own bootstraps kind of world. I cannot be still.  I have got to do something to fix this mess!"

More insistently the voice in my soul echoed: "Be still. Trust me.  Yes, they are going to think you are crazy.  In the end, your obedience is what matters not what they think about your obedience. Be still. You cannot fix what is coming...and it is going to be brutal. Trust me."

I ignored the voice. The next week I had 3 interviews for jobs that would have solved our insurance crisis and provided enough money to allow us to remain in our home till Jeff had work again.  I got word that I was in the top 3 for all 3.  I didn't get any of them.  They were of the opinion that as soon as my husband found gainful employment, we'd be on the move again. Hiring me would be a waste of time.  In my desperation, I had attended one interview with a raging case of pneumonia and a 103F temperature. The voice in my heart clanged and banged. "I said you cannot fix this. Be still. Trust me."

Jeff began to apply at places like Office Depot and Home Depot.  One manager said, "I'd hire you, but my district manager won't let me. As soon as you get a job in your field, you'll be gone."  The emergency fund was gone.  The retirement fund dwindled. Surely God would not require the college funds for our boys?

Every day I gathered our 11YO and 4YO boys close and reassured them that God was a good God with a good plan.  He would not abandon us.  My prayers became, "I have prayed everything I know how to pray in every permutation and variation that I know how to pray it.  If you remember us for no other reason, remember us because I have not turned my back on you. We are here still trusting that you will deal with us as your helpless children. Help us."

To be continued:
Come back again tomorrow and bring a friend? I'll miss you if you don't!

Writing My Way Back to God

(With apologies to those friends who hate cliffhangers and 'too be continued' episodes, I have a continuing series in mind. Many folks will find the series relevant because of today's economic realities. Perhaps you or a friend are going thru difficult times. If so, please share my story freely. No one understands a fraidy cat like another fraidy cat. Lord knows....I'm a fraidy cat!)

The phone rang. My husband said, "I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore.  I wish I had a new job to go to. I don't, but I've just quit my job. If God catches us, he's God. If he doesn't, he's still God."  He was 36YO and had been growing sicker for 2 yrs. It was May of 2001.  We had $80K of equity in a home worth $250K. We had college and retirement funds even tho' Jeff was not 40YO. Our oldest son was only 10YO. We had emergency savings for 3 months set aside. Besides our mortgage and food/utilities, our only other expense was one car payment of less than $200.00/mo.  He had a job in an engineering field that was in high demand.  We'd prepared in advance for difficult days. We'd be OK.  Surely, God would catch us before we hit rock bottom. Of course, none of us knew 9/11 was on the horizon.

He had surgery and spent the summer recovering.  The doctors approved his return to work in mid-August. The phone began to ring off the hook.  We began to breathe a sigh of relief.  Life would return to normal soon. We faced a move for sure. But, that was normal for us. I had re-written the words to Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again" to fit our transient lifestyle.  We had moving down to a fine, almost military science.

 our 3rd grader 8 yrs later in China - 2009

The morning of 9/11 dawned cloudless and Sahara desert hot. The buckle of the Bible belt was in the midst of a prolonged drought.  Like so many other households that morning, our routine commenced mindlessly.  I was giving our 3rd grader a spelling test.  My brother called. "Turn on the TV."  School was over for the day once we saw the second plane hit in real time.  When the first tower fell, my 10YO turned to me wide-eyed. "My Daddy doesn't have a job.  What will we do? He will never work again!"  We wrapped our arms around each other.  I was still able to rest my chin on the top of his head.  I stared blankly out the sunroom window wondering how the pine thicket could seem so familiar and normal when the world had just tilted on its axis. 

courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

I did what I always did. I tried to relate what was happening in our lives to a Biblical principle. I reminded Will that Psalm 46:2 says, "Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea...."  I reassured him that even tho' those mountainous skyscrapers, so close to the sea off the coast near New York City, were falling, God saw our plight.  He knew that the towers would fall and that Jeff would be without a job when it happened.  I reassured him that God had a plan and that it was a good one even if the world seemed like such a sad and scary place that day.

I had no idea that our odyssey had only just begun and that before it ended, I would have lost my way and any semblance of faith I had ever held.  In fact, even as I navigate the process of creating this fraidy cat community, I am also in the process of writing my way back to God.

I hope you will come back tomorrow and bring a friend for Invisibility and Homelessness in a Fraidy Cat World.

A Fraidy Cat Says There's a New Sherrif in Town...

I'm still thinking on how much fear reminds me of ivy!  What about you?  I'm thinking about the tools I need to rip it out and kill the roots.Tonight, it seems like a journey too arduous to tackle. It feels like fear has won. Today has been a fearsome day.

My husband gets a little sicker every day.  No one can figure out why.  He finally has an infectious disease consult on the calendar next month. Before that, he has surgery to look forward to. One doctor thinks he might have a rare form of a neurological disorder.  No one really knows. I feel the pressure of needing to develop a writing business by next week this time in case he gets too sick to work....or worse yet, dies. He missed a good chance 2 wks ago.  If we'd have been a little longer finding him, I'm not sure he'd still be here. I've hit the ground running, but going from 0-60 at my age is a herculean feat. I'm not sure I can run fast enough to beat what's ahead for him.

I'm worried that my almost 14 YO Aspie son is in some measure of emotional, spiritual, and even physical danger because of bullying. I'm concerned that parents don't talk to each other the way they did when I was his age.  So, trying to approach the ones involved is not an option. At least not a friendly, helpful one.

I'm afraid that starting this blog was about the dumbest idea I've ever had, that you will grow bored with me, and that you will make a solemn oath in the mirror to tell your friends about the Pioneer Woman instead of me! I'm worried I'm not funny enough, or spiritual enough, or insightful enough, or instructive enough  to keep you coming back for more. I'm afraid to go to the monthly breakfast the local writer's group has scheduled for tomorrow morning.  I'm sure they will see the word 'loser' tattooed on my forehead. I'm afraid I'm not really a writer no matter what they say.

I'm afraid my boys will marry and move on to be closer to their wives' families instead of being close to us. I'm worried about growing older.  I'm worried that my husband and I will never have the marriage we could have had because of his family history of abuse. I'm afraid he will never be free of that specter of abuse.

 I'm afraid God loves you more than he loves me. There. I said it. 

As you can tell, my life is full of ivy! The way I figure it, the world we live in cultivates ivy. Kudzu grows up to 8 ft a day in the summer.  I'm thinking fear can grow at triple that rate.  Osama's dead, but fear didn't die with him. The stock market is back up, but the price of gas is up too.  They say unemployment is down, but I bet you know at least 1 person for whom that has made no difference. The world was supposed to end yesterday. It didn't, but now some people will worry that the Mayans called the right date for the end of the world instead.

It doesn't really matter if the fear you fight comes from within or without. The results are the same. Carry it around long enough, and you become less of who you were supposed to be. You might do like I did for so many years. You put on your Sunday go to meeting face and convince the rest of the world that you have your act together. In some cases, so together that people wish they were you.

I think that is why I have such a love/hate relationship with Ree, the Pioneer Woman, Drummond.  Her blog life is what I call the 'picturesque implication of a stress free environment'. I think that's why so many of us are so captivated by her blog. She is probably not afraid of anything and probably has nothing to be afraid of! I wonder.....truth be known, behind her mask, she is probably a fraidy cat too. 

And so, I sit here tonight in the quiet of my home making a conscious decision to get up tomorrow and hack at the ivy of my life one more day. I will bask in the glow of other writers in various stages of their development.  I will contact this week's blog guest.  Here's a hint: she survived septic shock but lost her fingers and legs in the process.  I'm guessing she has a thing or two to share that will make the fraidy cats in my closet shiver in their timbers and start to pack. Whether they believe it or not, there is a new sheriff in town, and their days are numbered!

Come back tomorrow and bring a friend. I am so completely humbled that, here at the end of my 1st week of blogging, I have almost reached my 1 mo goal of 1K hits. Thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. Till we meet again, consider this encouragement:

Deuteronomy 31:6 - Be strong and courageous. do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

A Fraidy Cat Hits the Wall

Today, I hit the post-writer's conference wall. I woke up sure that I have bitten off more than I can chew. My life seems much too complicated for me to devote enough time to the process it takes to be a 'real' writer. I am overwhelmed before I can get off to a good start. And the sands of fear keep collecting.

I'm afraid I won't be able to build a writing business fast enough. I'm afraid my husband will die before I can support my 13YO and myself and get my 20YO thru college. I'm afraid you won't keep coming back to read my blog or recommend it to others. I'm afraid you'll think I am too spiritual or not spiritual enough. I'm afraid the day-to-day realities of life will drain me of the energy and resolve I found at the conference last week. It is enough to make my head hurt...and it is!

What is a fraidy cat to do? Besides whine on blog paper and hope you'll come read about it? I have decided to get out the shovel and dig at this mound of sandy fear again. This junk is like sand at the beach. It gets in crevices you don't even know you have until you are rubbed raw! Fear rubs you raw. You know that, don't you?

I'm going to think about the interview I did yesterday and begin to frame it for tomorrow's blog entry. I'm going clean 4 rooms and cook a meal. My Apsie kid had an Asperger's Day every minute of our schooling time today,. I'm exhausted before I've even had a chance to think about my big, fat new life as a professional writer! But, I'm going to have a business meeting w/ my older son so that we can continue to work on our business plan.

I don't want to do any of this today. I want to curl up in this chair and take a nap that lasts till tomorrow and start over again then.  How 'bout you? What is your paralyzing fear today? Are you at the bottom of a sandy, fear-filled hour glass wondering if you can take another breath much less grab a shovel and dig?

Well, don't just lay there! Start moving! I'm not gonna make all this effort alone am I? It is quiet and lonely out here in cyberspace! Don't leave me out here all alone. Leave a note and tell me that you came by. Tell me about a fear you chased away! Tell a friend about our little community! (Humor me here. I did say “little”!) Link my blog to your f/b wall. Spread the word because, the way I hear it, the world is full of fraidy cats. I just happen to be the one that will talk about it!

Tomorrow, I'm going to introduce you to my friend, Dana. I met her at Startbucks yesterday thinking I was going to talk to her about her journey to adoption and all the fears she navigated during that process. Before I knew it, we were talking about an entirely different set of fears that were much more daunting. They say everyone has a story. I found out she has two!