octolilly [through the years]

Today brought encouragement as I worked through finances and made some calls on the bills and everything is going to be just fine. We aren’t going to be sitting in the dark anytime soon and we are nice and warm in our little house. So, I’m going to preface the rest of this blog post (where I will share part of my day where I was NOT sure we were going to be okay) with this statement: I am not asking for money! Don’t you dare get all weird and awkward while reading what I’m about to say next. 🙂

At one point during the day, I wasn’t sure if our oil was going to last. In fact, I was afraid that it might run out TODAY. Paranoid. Slightly. In my rush to make sure I was doing the right thing for our family while Mr. Bergey is away, I sat down and called more oil companies and practically begged them to take my money.

You see, I had $200 saved to go towards filling up the tank for the winter. I’m well aware that we have to continue to save during the next few months because we are going to need at least two deliveries but that is all that I’ve been able to get together right now.

But the oil companies around here will not make a delivery unless they are delivering at least 100 gallons of oil. Joe the Plumber had the same problem. I understand that the oil companies aren’t making money if they have to keep scooting to different homes to deliver 50, 75, and 39 1/2 gallons to different folks. The limit of 100 gallons makes sense from a business point of view.

But the reality is that I only had $200. And I was scared that our heat was going to get cut off. So, in my mind, I would be very, very wrong to not ask for help from someone. When I was single, I could snuggle up with blankets and surf the Internet all night. But now I’m a mother, and I have a responsibility to keep the home warm for someone else besides me.

I swallowed my pride and began looking for assistance. All I needed was $89 to get a delivery. The LIHEAP program in Pennsylvania was where I started but I quickly realized that we have much more income than is allowed. I dutifully explained our situation; that we made some bad financial decisions, are working through FPU, and are trying to get grounded again. And, that I had $200 set aside for the oil but had just discovered that I had to order at least 100 gallons which means I needed $89 more and the only reason I was asking for help was because I thought it might run out in the next day or so.

It was quite humbling. LIHEAP really couldn’t help me. Even their Crisis grants. They pointed me in the direction of about five more non-profits where I left a message explaining my situation. I waited an hour and didn’t get any responses.

So, I then swallowed my pride even more and started calling churches. This was particularly difficult for me. Maybe if you were in my shoes you would have started calling churches first. But I remembered hearing so many people in the past few years mock the needy who called churches asking for help with rent, their power bill, and grocery money. I’d even mocked them myself. We’d laugh and talk about how we just know that if we gave them money they’d go down to the liquor store and have a bottle on us. And after all, the church isn’t just a place for handouts! Right? :-

I gingerly called a few churches only to hear the response that I’d so often given. And a fire started burning in my soul. Because the response felt so un-like Christ.

I know VERY WELL that most of our situation we’ve caused ourselves and that thankfully we aren’t dealing with a medical emergency or a lost job. I KNOW that we’ve failed. Screwed up. Made bad choices. Okay, we’ve just really lost our head at times.

But we Are Turning This Around. And in the process, I hit a roadblock today where I needed a particular amount of money to help keep my child warm. And no one was going to stop me from trying. All I needed was $89.00!

But we didn’t qualify for any state or federal assistance. And no churches would help. And that’s when I started crying again. I called Daniel and asked him to pray for me because I felt like I was going to fall apart all over again. He wisely listened and then sweetly asked me to go take a picture of the oil gauge and then to email it to him.

Sure enough, it turns out that it’s NOT as critical as I thought it was. I wasn’t reading the gauge correctly. 😛 On Saturday, we’ll have just the right amount of money coming in to help cover an oil delivery for next week. See? We’re going to be just fine.

But what I’ve taken away from today’s overwhelming experience is this: How does the church truly think they are going to show Christ to the community around them unless they are willing to take the risk of a handout going towards a beer instead of oil? Did you read Dooce’s story about her older brother, Ranger?

If I hadn’t been confident that in some way, somehow, God was going to take care of us, I would have been very discouraged with “Christians” today. It made me ache to start donating to Dollar Energy and to attend the Heating Assistance forum on November 12 at the Stuart Community Center in Carlisle. I want to help others. I only needed $89 but some folks need $700.

So, this is where I am.

Learning to trust in something I cannot see. And reaffirming that reaching out in grace and peace (with our hands, our actions, our money and our time – even when people don’t “deserve” it in our opinion) to others is the most beautiful and real way to share the Gospel.

Do you remember how I recently wrote that no legacy is so rich as honesty? And how it’s just matter-of-fact and something we should all do?

I wish the woman who wrote that could have imagined sitting on the couch tonight, stuffing her face with ice cream, crying so hard that all she could taste was salt, and then still think from the bottom of her heart that being real is what matters.

Because I’m that woman right now.

And I’m once again wanting to hide my pain from the world and pretend like nothing is wrong. But bottling up the fear is what drives me to harmful measures. I.have.to.get.this.out. I know the faces of friends and family who would never dare share the personal horrors they are going through with all the world peeking in. So why do I buck the trend?

I know that one day I will never have to live this way. And when I’m in that beautiful and marvelous place, however long it takes me to get there, I will never stop giving of myself to reach others who have been where I am right now. I will make a difference in someone else’s life one day. And for that person, I am telling my stories. And for my children, I am telling my stories. I want them to know their mother tried her best to be honest, sincere, and real.

Why the tears?

We moved so very far away, to this lovely place. And I know without any doubt at all that this is where we are meant to be. That’s not even a question in my mind. But on the journey to moving away, I occasionally wrote about how our finances were quite overwhelming and that I was tired of being slave to the lender. We made some bad decisions early in our marriage that are still haunting us. Going through FPU was a God-send. But two weeks after our last class, we moved away and with the move went our support group, our financial planning, and our peace of mind.

It is like we are back at square one. We are much more informed, and still have hope that we will be debt free one day, but it’s just still very dark right now. Some of the creditors who we had payment arrangements with are drafting our accounts in South Carolina unexpectedly, we have had some recent costs we didn’t expect, and we simply do not have an emergency fund which is handy when suddenly you need to fill up your oil tank so you can keep your house warm.

The power bill has arrived, along with the extra setup fee for first time customers. The cable bill has arrived and is making me swear that this awful TV service is not worth what we’re paying (and why do we really need a landline when cell phones work fine). I’ve been on the phone with oil companies all day, trying to find the cheapest price. The problem is that we are very, very near the bottom of our tank (I keep nervously running to the basement to check the level) and don’t have a wad of money sitting around in our pocket to pay for a fill-up. We could get on the popular budget plan but you have to be credit-worthy. And I’m pretty sure that our credit isn’t back to it’s happy place yet. So, I can use some extra grocery money to buy a tad bit of oil this week or I can choose one of the companies who will fill it up and allow me to pay the bill within 30 days (and then sell everything but DREW on Craigslist). Or, I can come up with some new hare-brained idea tomorrow.

It doesn’t help that my better half is away on business right now and that his big strong arms are often what keeps me calm and breathing. I’ve shared some of my fears with him through email, IM, and phone calls but I’ve felt so guilty each time because the last thing I want to do is make him feel overwhelmed while many states away. I really do NOT want him to worry about me. Drew and I are doing just fine. But he knows me very well and sees straight through my tough talk.

I’ve been playing the McDonald’s Monopoly game ever since he left on Sunday. This afternoon I found myself typing in the codes on their website to see if I had won the online game instead of winning it by pieces on my paper game board. It felt childish, and poor. I never play the lottery, but I can justify this game because I need to eat and I might as well eat at McDonald’s. Never mind that I really don’t like the food, never mind that I’m struggling with eating meat right now, never mind that I know this greasy food will kill me, never mind that this does NOT help me be less squishy, and never mind that eating fast food so much doesn’t help with cash flow at all. And never mind that each time I pull away from the drive-thru I hear Drew shout from the back seat “BITE! BITE! BITE!” Is this really what I’m teaching my child? How can he be so tiny and young and already know what it’s like to have Mommy chop up chicken nuggets and apples, while driving, and feed it to him from a fast food bag? I AM SO BAD.

I wonder if anyone is playing the game so desperately as I am. They may want new shoes, a new laptop, or an iPhone. But all I want is money to pay the bills. If only I can win $1,000,000. Or even $30,000. That would pay off all our debt.

One of the worst moments of my life occurred about a month ago when I found out that there was a warrant out for my arrest.

Um. Yes. You read that correctly. Apparently, a check I’d written in July had been returned NSF (I still don’t even know what on earth the check was written for and I sure as heck know that I didn’t write it all the while knowing we didn’t have money to cover it) and when they couldn’t reach me (we still don’t know why we didn’t get a letter from the company saying we owed them the money) they turned it straight over to a collection agency. The agency apparently started sending notices to the wrong address and when they finally got a letter through to us, it was a week before we left South Carolina.

I opened the letter and went WHOA. I put it a file folder of The Most Important Things Ever and planned on calling them from the hotel and giving them our new address and sending the payment right away. But I completely forgot about it while we were at the hotel.

The short version of the very scary long story is that when they didn’t get a response, they turned it over to the police department (keep in mind how short this time frame is from when I actually wrote the check). The police sent a notice to my address in South Carolina. I had already set my mail to forward to Pennsylvania but for some reason this piece of mail DID NOT GET FORWARDED. Thankfully, my mom saw it and realized that it looked official and called me to ask if she needed to open it. She did. We both about died. I still didn’t think it could actually be this serious until I called the police station.

The lady I spoke with said she had to put me on hold while she contacted the person headed to the magistrate’s office to get a warrant for my arrest. OH MY FREAKING WORD. I mailed a money order to her the next day and everything was cleared up right away but I cried in my pillow for many nights after that. It still seems so surreal. I just don’t understand how our finances can get so overwhelming so quickly and without much warning.

During my worst ice-cream-sobbing moment tonight, I started wondering what it would be like if our power was cut off. I keep imagining that I’ll be sitting downstairs and suddenly the lights will go out and since I have no idea where any matches or lighters are, and the box of candles is somewhere underneath OTHER boxes in the office, I’ll be lost without light. Perhaps I’ll use my phone or my laptop for light enough to make it up the stairs to Drew’s room where I’ll find him whimpering in the dark. I’ll fumble around and get diapers and wipes and his blanket and stuff it in his diaper bag. All by the light of my cell phone. I’ll find my shoes and maybe a coat if I’m lucky and we’ll head to the car.

Do we drive to a shelter? I don’t know where one is. Do we drive to a friends house? Oh, that’s right. We don’t have any yet. At least, none that aren’t away right now. Do I drive to the police department so they can tell me where a shelter is? I don’t know where that is either. So maybe I’ll just drive to McDonald’s where they are open 24 hours and I’ll change Drew’s diaper in the bathroom, wash my hands, and stare in the mirror and wonder how I got here.

Then I’ll go to the front counter and order a large sweet tea, a Big Mac without onions, and large fries (that will be THREE food items that have Monopoly pieces)

“BITE! BITE!” Oh, and chicken nuggets and apple slices.

And if by some magical happening, I DO get Boardwalk when I peel that lovely piece off my sweet tea, I know that I’ll be going back to a cold and dark house with a $1,000,000 ticket in my pocket. SCORE!

Lately, I’ve been so desperate to get money that I’ve become willing to sell anything. It took an entire day to convince my husband to let me sell my engagement ring. The look in his eyes about killed me. His emotional attachment to the ring was obviously stronger than mine and it made me feel like an ungrateful wife. But I kept telling myself that it was just a ring. And we needed the money. And after all, I still have my wedding band. He finally said, “whatever” in a very dejected, discourage, and I-can’t-believe-she-is-selling-the-ring-I-picked-out-for-her sort of way. Which was as close as he was going to get to actually saying, “yes, you can go sell the ring.”

I called over ten jewelry stores only to find that because of the economy, jewelers are no longer buying precious stones. They’ll take the gold, but not the stones. Two stores asked me to drop by and show them the ring. I walked in, carrying a scruffy looking Drew, probably looking poor and desperate. Both said they wouldn’t be able to buy it at the time. At the second store, I must have looked wild-eyed because one of the girls that worked there followed me to my car and whispered that if I needed the money quickly I should try Craigslist.

I’m still wearing both my rings.

And we’re still really stretched tight financially. As one of our friends in South Carolina used to say, “the mice are carrying signs that say Will Work For Food.”

I know we are going to be okay. At least, that is what we are supposed to say, right? I mean, God is going to take care of us. That’s what I’ve heard all of my life. So it must be true. :-

But what does “okay” mean? Does that mean that as long as I do “my part” (make sure we quickly get back to our FPU budget plans, save every nickel, sell everything we can think of, etc) then God will make sure we have the lights on, gas money, food, and keep me from going to jail (small bit of humor)?

For so long I believed that I couldn’t really ask God to help me out unless I’d been reading my Bible regularly (and finishing it once a year!), praying every day, reading a devotional and quoting Bible verses to everyone I met. But when I started learning that my relationship with God is not BASED on what I’m doing but on what He has already done, I soon learned an immense freedom to just rest in the relationship with Him.

I’ve signed us up to take FPU again (we really loved going there – it was so encouraging and it was a great support group with gentle accountability) and I’m in the midst of working on our updated budget worksheets. There are reasons to rejoice. But I know that I’m human and that I’ll probably screw something else up again and forget to plan for something big. Will God take care of us then? And once again, what does “take care” mean?

Is it really like this hymn says?

All you may need he will provide,
God will take care of you.
Nothing you ask will be denied,
God will take care of you.

Dear God, how about those Monopoly pieces? And can you fill the oil tank up while I’m sleeping tonight? And while we’re at it, since you know how many hairs I have you must know how many pounds I am. Can you make some of those vamooosh? And more importantly, remember the lady I sat beside at the forum the other night? She mentioned that poor woman and her baby she met at the shelter who needed money and food and yet as far as we knew that night, she hadn’t received help. I at least DO have food. And a house. And even some money in my pocket. And goodness, I have so much when I really think about it.

I don’t really believe that nothing I ask will be denied.

So, how do I really let go of everything and trust You to provide? How do I trust YOU to know what “take care of” means?

This is faith, yes?

Also, thank You for bringing to my mind the small heater we had tucked away in storage.

Since Drew’s room doesn’t have a heat vent, it’s been too cool in there for my liking and I’ve been so worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep him warm. Of course, with Daniel gone, it’s all I’ve been able to do to not pick him up and tuck him in bed with me (he sleeps MUCH better by himself and I have to admit that so do I). But I remembered the heater and it’s now heating away as I type.

In the midst of my chaotic fears, I can still see something greater than myself moving me to tears as I realize how unworthy I am and yet how I am so worthy in His eyes. And that because I am worthy, He will move in ways I’ve yet to see and “take care” of us in His particular way.

And if that means that a week from now, I’m writing from a cold, dark room with a dying laptop battery, I’ll try to remember to smile as I quickly put everything I own on Craigslist.

And if that means that we will simply have another living-from-paycheck-to-paycheck few weeks, I’ll be thankful that we have life to live and purpose in my heart to learn from my mistakes.

And, most of all, I’ll remember these days. Because this is what real life is, folks. It’s admitting when you are scared. It’s admitting when you are worried. And when I see that look of fear in someone else’s eyes, I want to be the bearer of sweet news.

That God really WILL take care of you.

Almost a year ago, I remember wavering so delicately on whether I should write about my journey of faith. Someone very dear to me suggested that I should just walk through these days carefully, silently, and not preach to the masses about how wrong Fundamentalism is because a lot of good and godly people have their foundation there and how earth-shattering it is to read of yet another bitter survivor. And how it doesn’t help the cause of Christ.

As time has passed, I’ve thought long and hard about what they said and I realize now they were mostly speaking from fear. Fear of being convinced that a portion of what they’ve been taught about God was questionable.

I’ve had to decide whether to keep my mouth shut and simply pray for them, or whether to open my heart and share my story no matter the consequences. And obviously, through the past year, I decided to share a few pieces of the story.

Two weeks ago, I sat in front of my computer, with a gaping mouth, as I realized how politics was the same sort of game. Some friends had honest concerns about what I’d written, some were politely interested, some absolutely agreed, but others were horrified that “I was running to the other side of the political aisle just because I didn’t want to agree with Fundamentalists on a candidate.” Which is complete and utter nonsense.

It’s taken me a few weeks to ponder if writing about politics is something I even want to do. But once again, I find myself at the same place. How can I keep my mouth shut on issues when it truly affects our everyday lives, the people we know and love, and our country’s future? Does it really matter that it causes such a ruckus? 😉 Isn’t it worth it? Thus, be prepared. I will probably jump into politics again.

Please note that I’m still a girl who is planning on telling her stories. Stories of faith, stories of politics, and stories of my everyday life. The one thing I’ve learned in the past two years is that wearing a masque is absolutely the worst thing you can do. Just be real.

And wouldn’t you know it, as I’m rediscovering what it means to be real when talking about change in my life, even more change starts happening.

Within the past few days, I’ve been contacted out of the blue by several different people related to exceptionally painful and dark chapters of my life who wanted to help me talk through some of the pain and share in the healing. When we were driving home from Maryland on Saturday, I told Daniel that it feels like God is up to something. There are just too many coincidences, with too many people, in such a small timeframe to not make me gently and patiently wait to see what’s ahead. I think I need to hold onto my hat!

We’ve also found a church family. At least, we are 99.9% sure. Okay, maybe totally sure. Once again, the whole situation has God written all over it. We’ve visited I don’t know how many churches here and have even walked out during the middle of a few of the services and have even skipped some Sunday’s (horror!)

We’ve played a lot of angsty music (while dancing with the salad spinner because that is just WHAT YOU DO when you have a toddler), talked apologetics over spaghetti, and encouraged each other that God has a purpose in all of this and that we will find like-minded believers who ache to speak Christ to the community around us. And we’re pretty sure He has.

Also, there was a pretty big sign from God that has us thinking He’ll strike us dead if we don’t become apart of this church family. The venue is in a beautifully restored Ribbon Mill factory just a block or so from our house and is upstairs from the Obama headquarters for Carlisle. Um. HELLO GOD? WE ARE LISTENING. 😉

And if you want to hear about even more change, I can’t believe I’m actually considering becoming a vegetarian, I’m starting NaNoWriMo on November 1, Daniel is currently in California for a week, I’m pledging handmade for the holidays, I’m contemplating getting rid of the TV again, and we have about 90% stopped using our car and are walking everywhere instead.

I also want to start a Christmas CD Swap. To be apart of it, you’d need to be able to create a mixed CD of your favorite Christmas songs from all sorts of genres and make enough CDs to cover all of those participating in the project (i.e. if 10 people sign up then you need to make 10 CDs). Anyone interested?

There you have it. Ch-ch-change!