A Message From the Night Shift

The first few weeks of meeting with my counselor, I couldn't get thru a session without sobbing and asking for reassurance that I wasn't just totally crazy.  The details of the last 12 years had taken their toll.  My helper finally said, "I've been so worried about you.  You are not crazy.  Your life has been crazy-making, but you are not crazy.  In fact, I can't think of a single client I've worked with that can identify with your story. Some people would understand one part, some another. But, I fail to remember a single person I've dealt with that can say they have had everything on their plate that you have.  Not one. It is no wonder you feel as if folks can't understand you or your situation.  They can't because they can't absorb the totality of it."

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Then, she quietly and  kindly explained that if I had exhibited only 2 more symptoms, I'd qualify as a PTSD patient.  I recoiled. Me? Have something in common with someone coming back from a combat zone? She showed me the diagnostic criteria. I broke out in a cold sweat....not a good sign if you are hoping to refute a PTSD-related diagnosis. Oh, MY! The signs and symptoms of 'traumatic stress reaction' seemed hauntingly familiar.  Say like...if I had written them myself.

So, there it was. I was totally broken. I had, my helper insisted, to learn to take care of me for a change, or there would not be a me left to take care of.   The news settled in around me like a cold fog--at once both numbing me and filling me with a bone cracking cold.

She asked me what I thought about the book . "Surely," she said, "You have been laboring on the night shift. One who has not labored there has no idea what it is like to be a night shift laborer. It can feel incredibly lonely. It is easy to feel loved by God when you draw the day shift assignments of life. Not so much when it is cold and dark with no light in sight. You have never had time to recover from one thing when the next one erupts.  You have no margin left. Any stress makes your bucket slosh over.  You are spent."

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

My stranglehold on composure ruptured, and the fountains erupted again. "Here's what I'll tell you I know about that book!  I get it! I told God:

I give up! I get it! You don't have any use for me and don't want to use me to do whatever it is you are doing in that grand plan of yours to help a hurting world. I get it. You don't need me! I've always wanted to be part of your plan, but I finally get it. There's nothing I can do for you. So, I GIVE UP!

That is what I know about what I read in that book!" I exclaimed. If I could have, I would have curled up in a fetal position of defeat.

She let my raw emotion ebb.  She did what Job's friends did when they got it right. She sat with me in solitude and let me grieve my losses.  She didn't cluck and assure me I was wrong. She didn't chide me because of my lack of faith.  She didn't try to cheer-lead me into claiming some greater glory that was not mine to claim that day. She sat with me in solitude allowing me to be broken by the trauma and chaos that had unfolded between 1999 and 2011.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Then, she began to nudge, prod, and gently insist that I do what I've always wanted to do.  Write.  "Don't come back to see me," she teasingly threatened, "unless you have applied for a scholarship to the writer's conference."  And the rest, as they say, is history. Here I am writing. Writing my way back to God, I hope.


If you are cold and lonely and have been on the night shift so long that you have forgotten what the sun is like, I'm your girl. I get it. You don't even have to groan much less give me a well crafted paragraph. I get it.  Sometimes on the darkest, coldest nights, I'd say, "God, I can't even pray anymore.  Please let someone out there who knows me remember to pray for me...."

During these days that I feel I am wrestling with God, and sometimes man, I still can't pray a lot. On those days, I do pray one thing, "God..somewhere out there today is someone who feels forgotten and alone in the cold and dark of the night shift.  I can't pray for me, but I am praying for them.  Even tho' I don't know who they are to call a name...I am praying for them. Somehow...let him or her know it...let them know and feel the power of my prayer for them today."  If that was for your fraidy cat...I mean it...every single word and every time I say it. 

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

We are about half way into our journey thru the circumstances that have delivered me to the place I am tonight.  If you'll come back, I'll tell you the last half. And, in the process, I hope we will figure out something about God that we didn't know before.

Psalm 91: 14-16
"Because he loves me," says the Lord, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation."

Breaking news: Scientists confirm-- cause of ADD

No. It is not vaccines. No. It is not sugar. No. It is not red dye. No. It is not high fructose corn syrup.  No. It is not hydrogenated corn oil. NO! IT IS NOT CHOCOLATE. Whew...that was too close for comfort! I don't know HOW I'd survive without all that stuff!

dining room before

Scientists have confirmed that the root cause of ADD is home renovation projects. HGTV plus home renovation projects cause both ADD and insanity! There IS no antidote, so I suggest you do not pick up the 1st paint brush, hammer, or screw driver. For gosh sakes, do NOT buy your husband the FIRST power tool! I had survived 19 years of marriage and only picked up a paint brush 1 time. I saw the folly of that mistake as soon as I fell thru the attic ceiling into son #1's bedroom.  (But, that is a story for another day. However, had I not come down with paint brush induced ADD, I would have been paying attention to what I was doing and NOT fallen thru.)

dining room after

You'd think I would have learned a lesson with that practice sky dive I did from the attic to the 2nd floor, wouldn't you? But, NOOOO!  Once we got back on our post-Chapter 13 feet again, we just went and added gas to the fire as soon as we could by purchasing ourselves another house that had good bones. ROLL. MY. EYES.

before

We bought a house with good bones that ONLY needed updating. Remember the shiver that news sent up your spine? We shivered too...with excitement. If only we'd known! We'd watched too much HGTV and contracted insanity. We had delusions of grandeur and thought for a brief shining moment that our lives were like the lives of people on TV. We forgot those people have big ole trucks that roll up to the front door with all kinds of sponsor supported helpers and materials. No one warned us that if you take the DIY approach, you get sucked into a black hole and can only find your way out again if someone ties a rope around your waist to pull you back thru before it is too late. It's too late for us.  Save yourselves!

after

back door-after

I didn't know who Ree Drummond was when we got this house. I sure knew who Martha Stewart was.  I really thought I could be just like her when I got all growed up at age 51. Then, I fell and broke my leg right after my husband moved to a new state for a job. No one tells you --not even Martha, Ree, or Oprah-- that if you do that, painting one room takes more than a year instead of less than a week! Then, they don't tell you that once you paint, you have to have a new light fixture because once you get the walls all spiffied up, the old light fixture looks so passe that you just HAVE to do something about it. Then, you realize the old PURPLE...yea...you read that right...PURPLE HVAC return vent clashes with your classy looking high gloss white trim. So, you gotta go change that too. Then you realize those old metal outlet and light switch covers would look a LOT better if they matched your high gloss trim. As if that weren't enough, you realize you MUST recover the seats to the dining room chairs. Once you've gotten that done, you discover that the chair backs have sustained damage after umpteen moves in umpteen years and 2 yrs in storage. They are cracked beyond repair. So much for seat covers.

Before you know it, your eyes are bouncing around the room like a pinball on Crack, and you don't know what to pay attention to first. You make the mistake of leaving the dining room to go to the kitchen to get some chocolate to try and calm your nerves. Before you can blink, you start to notice that just painting the ceiling and walls won't be enough in there either. The cream cabinets have tarnished to nicotine yellow way before you moved in. So, you have to redo all the cabinets. And the back door needs to be red, so it can match the front door which, you noticed on the way into the kitchen from the dining room, would look really smashing if it was red. The blue backsplash you bought with the house didn't match the original kitchen and sure won't match your spiffy new kitchen. So..you guessed it, the backsplash and under cabinet wall paper has got to go.

Add caption

I am out of breath just typing this update. EURKEA! I have discovered another scientific fact! Renovations cause ADD, insanity, and hyperventilation. I bet all those scientists are going to thank me for figuring that out for them. And, you can thank me too! I just saved you a WAD on taxes because no tax sponsored study will have to be funded to figure out the link between home renovation and hyperventilation. I'm also proud to advise that no animals nor trees were harmed in my very scientific study. My work for today is done. Fraidy cats rule!

WE HAVE POWER!!

I just love you guys! I was gone, but you kept coming to visit! CHOCOLATE FOR EVERYBODY....cheap of course...I'm not a GO-diva kinda girl!

Our power was only out about 30 hrs vs 72 as predicted. I'm sorry, but Duke Power company has bumped you guys down to #2 on my New BFF list!  In fact, I may give them your chocolate when I see them out and about this next few days.  I'm sure you'd do the same in my shoes! I know where my loyalties are...and in this southern heat/humidity...they lie squarely around our HVAC unit!

We are so, so thankful that we had no property damage other than mild hail damage to our cars. We already had hail damage to our roof that we have been waiting to fix till these hail storms cease and desist. Trees as big as the ones in our yard came down 3 streets over, so it could have been so much worse! Friends  have 15 trees down on their property.  Thankfully, no one was hurt.  It has been a wild ride!

Today's blog post, which is really Wednesday's, is ready to go but for uploading pics.  Bear with me.  I'll try to post by lunch time on Friday! We all need a laugh after the last couple of days. So, we will take a break from my Lemony Snickett-like saga and see if we can't squeeze out a chuckle or 2 with an update on my home renovation projects! 

Share the love...tell a friend about the craziest fraidy cat you know! See you soon!

intermission due to weather

hi guys!

The good news is we are ok, and our house is intact. Our trees are still standing. The bad news is that many trees and power lines are down w/i a 5 block area around our home. If I had to guess, I'd say we are 2-3 days away from having power.

I had tonight's blog ready to go and was adding pics when the power died. So, consider this break from your sponsor as a time to talk among yourselves...just don't talk ABOUT me! Use the time to catch up on a post you've missed or share a link with a friend. You know you will be my new best friend if you do!!


I'm presently at my sister's where I was able to get a hot bath! Given that I had done yard work all day, I am so grateful she still had power! You will be so proud to know that this development has given me the opportunity to do something I NEVER wanted to do....use an IPad!!! My 2 testosterone units are enjoying the fact that I am concentrating so hard that I am nauseous! I think technology causes migraines! I've had all the technology I can stand for one night. I love y'all, but not enough to keep messin' with this contraption!

Everybody be safe! See you when the power comes back on!

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?

A Grim Fariy Tale-- Homeless Part 3

If the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were the Brothers Grimm, I could begin tonight's post with the words:

I opened the mailbox. An envelope fluttered out. I opened the envelope. A check fell out. The check was for $12,000.00! I kissed my Handsome Prince, and we all lived happily ever after.

Life, at least mine, is not a fairy tale. The social silence that followed us grew so profound that it was as if I had been dropped right onto the set of some Get Smart movie and into the famed cone of silence. People began to look right through us. Some folks had not spoken to me in over a year even tho' we labored side by side as part of the same 'church family'. News began to leak out via the one person still brave enough to talk to me. Our family was about to abandon ship.

The ringing of the phone jarred me from my consideration of what to pack or store, what to chuck, and what to give away. We were moving from 2400 ft sq 2-story into 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. I had no idea if/when I'd see anything besides our clothes and a few toys for months or years. If it weren't for the pain, I'd have been numb all over.

The voice that penetrated my frenzied decision making was one of those that had been silent for a year. She was the church secretary and also my neighbor. My radar told me it was coming. Her version of God-given wisdom was percolating in her head. I almost expected to hear, "I believe I have 'a word' for you." She made the usual mouth noise of social pleasantries working up the courage to lower the boom. It was almost a relief when she finally fired. Her frustration with us and our plight filled the air like broken shards of glass flying toward me. I had no place to run and hide.

"What," she asked, "do you think God wants you to do? Do you think he wants you to keep homeschooling and be homeless? Or, would he rather you get a job, keep your house, and keep a roof over your heads?"

courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Even tonight as I type, the shrapnel of her judgment is working its way through my soul 9 years later. At that moment, my mind rewound the previous 12 months of her silence. I thought of all the job searches I had done of which she was unaware. I thought of the day I had a job prospect and asked her. “If I get the job, could you watch my boys for the hour or so after school till I could get home?” I guess she had forgotten her reluctance to stand in that gap. Christians make me so weary sometimes. But, I've already told you that, haven't I?

My soul absorbed her blows. I'm sure my voice was ragged as I replied. "I cannot explain why God has not relieved me of what I feel is his call on my life. As much as I'd like him to give me a new vision, I still believe it is my job to homeschool my boys. In the year since we've spoken, I have had a clear sense that God has called me to be still. In spite of that conviction about what he wants me to do, I have instead done all I know how to do to reverse our course. From my perspective, he has kept his word and frustrated every effort I have made to stop what is happening to us.”

“I am sorry I cannot fast forward the camera of my life. If I could, maybe you and I would both understand why he has compelled me to give up any effort to change what has happened to us. I don't understand why he has foiled every effort I've made. Maybe I'd also understand why he has not given me peace about another educational option. Had I gotten a job, I would obviously made other arrangements for their education. I have not, and so I keep doing what I'm doing till there is something else to do. If I could show you the end results of my homeschooling journey, maybe you could step back and do what I'm having to do. I'm having to trust in a God who doesn't seem to need or want my help to fix my situation.” Needless to say, the call ended pretty quickly.

The cone of silence worked its way inside the walls of my own home. Our 14 year marriage started out hopefully enough. I had no idea, and would not for several more years, that a silent enemy was quietly eating away at our core. All I knew in those days was that we were going weeks without saying more than, “pass the salt”. I tiptoed around the house watching the man I promised to love, honor, and cherish become a shell of the man I married. I watched his anger grow. He was angry at the world and himself. He was angry at God. He was angry at his own anger, I think. If I dared darken the door of our home office, I knew I risked the full brunt of his fury. I had seen the enemy...and he was my husband. We were strangers on auto pilot, and we no longer even passed in the night.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

In the midst of that hell, I did what mothers do. I kept juggling plates and balls and knives trying to keep our abnormal and crumbling life as normal as possible for 2 boys that deserved none of what was happening. So, I began to frame the future by assuring them that the pending move to Grandma's house was an adventure. I could not say that we had 2 choices: 1) live under a bridge in our car or 2) live with grandma. So, I began to tell them how good God was and that, despite our desperate times, we were blessed because we had a place to go. God had a plan. It was a good plan because he was a loving God. In those days, I believed my God loved me just as much as he loves you. Maybe one day, I'll believe that again.


Oh my....the water is getting deeper. If you come back again, I will know you are not faint of heart. It is so much easier to write about my jousting with technology and home renovations than it is to keep my mask off and tell you the bare knuckled truth.


What are you hiding behind your fraidy cat mask?  Your fraidy cat might have a different name or set of circumstances...but....I'll bet he's listening. Bring him back tomorrow, OK?

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.