In your face, 2009

Many of you know that 2009, how shall I say, *sucked* for us. Of course it is all relative but in respect to the life we are accustomed to - it fell far short. It actually started in the end of '08 with Jack being unexpectedly and unceremoniously laid off from a job that he loved, with people he loved, and a company that he loved. With barely a handshake, and without being given a chance to say goodbye to the team which he had built, he found himself out on the street - so to speak. Not to mention the 2/3 income cut to our family. Yeah, I am still a tad bitter over that one.

Jacko's always had great work experiences and has usually had more than his share of offers but in the current economy middle management has been squeezed out and so basically for all of 2009 he worked a variety of short term contract gigs. Don't get me wrong - we know we were lucky to have those. Many friends and former colleagues reached out to him, offering encouragement, support and the occasional opportunity. Our dear friends at both Monkee-Boy Web Design and BackRow Design offered him continuous, part time employment and basically saved our butts financially. But stress and anxiety permeated our year.

Then in June of '09, we lost Jack's mom Nancy who was recovering from triple bypass surgery. Aly and I had visited her in the hospital two days after the surgery. We were up in Boston doing college visits. Nancy was alert and seemed to be doing well, despite the tubes and machines and the giant scar. Two days later she lost consciousness, and shortly after that she was lost to us. Nancy is the first parent that we have lost between us, and Jack was very close to her. I couldn't have asked for a nicer mother-in-law and her passing brought us a tremendous wave of sadness.

And of course we ended 2009 with the fire.

Yeah, not one of our better years.

And yet.

On Christmas Day, the fire trucks pulled away and friends started to disperse to give us a chance to hopefully sleep a little, or at least get a shower. Tracey and Theresa said "We'll be back to pick you up at 5pm, ok? We are all going to have Christmas dinner together." Now, both of these families are extremely family-oriented. I know for a fact that the Fuellings had plans to visit Theresa's mom and sisters in San Antonio that day. I am sure the Browns had plans with their extended families as well. Normally I would decline ("No, don't be silly, you have plans...") but in our weakened state, we simply nodded. "Ok, we'll be ready".

At 5pm, they came to retrieve us. I wasn't sure we were really up for any form of socializing, but we went anyway. We figured it would be a good diversion for the kids. There were cars lining the Browns' street and I remember thinking "Oh yeah, this is a normal, joyful day for so many people in our neighborhood". We walked into the Browns' home and were met by a small army of dear friends. There must have been 10 families there and everyone had brought their Christmas dinner with them - so there was a veritable feast spread across their kitchen. All of these families, who undoubtedly had prior plans of their own, had changed everything at the last minute - and all for us. How humbling is that? Sweet Kim led a prayer circle, and just 12 hours after our disaster we were strengthened right then and there by all of these amazing friends.

A few days later my friend Cathy left a message. Cathy and Dave always have a big New Year's Eve party and even though we are sworn anti-New Year's Evers, we've made an appearance at Cathy and Dave's for many years because of the warmth and fellowship we find there. Cathy said that she knew we probably weren't in the mood, but that she hoped we would come at least for a bit - because they were having this year's party in our honor. Well, the truth is that we did not feel like being sociable, and certainly didn't feel like we had anything to celebrate. But at this point (fire+6 days) we had started grasping for any remnants of normalcy, so we pulled it together and went.

The Swofford's was filled with another set of our friends, about 30 in all. In addition to their kind words and ample hugs, they had all brought gifts for us. Later I would say that it had been like a wedding shower. It was a little too overwhelming to open the gifts in front of everyone, and they were all very understanding. And at 11:30 when I told her at that we were going to leave, Cathy asked if we would just stay for the fortune cookies. It's part of their New Year's Eve tradition to pass around a big bowl of fortune cookies to their guests and then everyone reads theirs aloud. Jack and I went first. My fortune read "Big journeys begin with a single step". There was a collective "ooOOooohhh" in the room - how appropriate considering our situation. Jack went next. He read his fortune: "Big journeys begin with a single step". Really? Really. I joked with Cathy - had she maybe gotten a box with all the same fortunes from the discount bin at the Chinese market? We continued around the room. No one else had our same fortune. What are the odds?

So in the midst of this deep, dark time for us - when it seems that nothing is going right and everything is going terribly, horribly wrong - we cannot help but be lifted up by the people who have gone out of their way to surround us and who refuse to ever let us feel alone, even for one moment.

Today I came in to work and there was a gift on my chair from a co-worker. Karen had written "It's not a lot but hopefully it'll get you motivated". Inside there was an abundance of brand new workout clothes. Karen and I are gym buddies and often see each other at the company fitness center. In fact, our paths cross there more often than they do in work-related business - so she knows how important my workouts are for me. And she thought of that, and she thought of me. Karen is a single mom.

Everyone giving from their hearts. It's simply overwhelming.

So in your face, 2009. You have not gotten the best of us.