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.