Lessons learned: Use it or lose it.

Christmas night the obvious choice was to stay right next door at Mo and Ronnie's. They were in Paris (Texas) visiting Ronnie's folks, so the only one we'd be imposing on was Drew. He's hard to impose on - and I don't mean that it's uncomfortable to impose on him - rather he is so laid back, you never feel for a second that you're imposing. We set up camp with Drew Christmas night. Same for the next night - we were scattered in assorted beds and couches at Mo and Ron's. After they arrived home on Sunday and we had spent some time together crying, and laughing, and crying some more, we told them we were going to move on to Mary Beth and Jim's house for the next few days since they were out of town til New Year's.

It's very hard to not feel like an imposition when you are four large humans (of fragile mental health) and two large canines (one of whom is still learning her manners) and when hefty bags full of donated clothing and toiletries and the kind souls who are donating or transporting them follow you. It's not that we don't appreciate the hospitality, or the love, or the generosity, or the kindness - we do, more than we can ever express. This is just when it really hit me that we no longer had a home. And *that* felt very strange (and sad). I want to go home.

So off to Mary Beth and Jim's for a few nights and then back to Mo and Ronnie's for a few more. In the midst of all of this, our amazing neighbors George and Barbara and Mo and Ron were scurrying around - they were on a mission.

There is exactly one house on our cul de sac that is a rental. It happened to be vacant. The neighbor brigade went to work.

The landlord lives in Houston. Another family on the cul de sac (neighbors of the rental house) act as his "property managers". There were a few things stacked against us. First, one of the property managers is deathly afraid of dogs of any size or breed so I know she was not really pulling for us since that would put our 100+ pounds of canine right next to her home. Secondly, the landlord didn't want to rent to people with two fairly large dogs. Thirdly, he was not happy about leasing for less than 12 months. But these hurdles did not deter our fearless neighbors. They apparently begged, and pleaded, and negotiated, and cajoled (and quite possibly threatened, though they'd never admit it) and just 9 days after we lost our home, we were handed the keys to the rental. Our same cul de sac, our same awesome neighbors. This was a great comfort because it was familiar at a time when everything seemed upside down, and there was the added benefit of being close by for the reconstruction. And, oh yes, there will be a reconstruction.

I've digressed so far that my title is no longer in sync with my story so bringing it back around - the lesson that I intended to share was this:

We were seriously not operating on all cylinders. We didn't know what to do - there was no protocol - so we leaned on our friends. We didn't think we should spend money until the insurance folks provided guidance (which took a few days and a few conversations because - get this - the "emergency" team wasn't working seeing as how it was Christmas and all). We stayed with friends and ate their groceries. Later we would learn that insurance would have covered any and all living expenses beginning with minute one after the fire. Of course this came with certain stipulations. There is money set aside for emergency living expenses, and it's a fairly generous amount - but they are particular about how it can be used.

Once we found this out, we asked - can we be reimbursed for any meals? The answer: no. This is because we stayed in places that had kitchens and in that case, meals are not covered. How about using it for grocery bills? Or to have our friends' homes cleaned? Nope, and no. It didn't occur to us that we should be living it up it a fancy hotel and eating at restaurants. Had we done that, insurance would have gladly footed the entire tab. As it turned out, trying to save money (both ours and the insurance company's) by relying on the kindess of our friends meant that the emergency living expenses pool dried up. None of what we did could be reimbursed.

Funny how things work.

Lesson learned: You use it, or you lose it.

Today's hero: Jack (not *that* Jack)

Stories like this are too wonderful and overwhelming to keep to ourselves. While we are blessed to have had many of these types of experiences since Christmas day, as a mom this one really touched my heart.

Our friends Jens and Suzie are wicked Chelsea fans and are planning a charity football match (that's soccer to us) in our honor. The match is being scheduled in May. It originally was going to be held this month, but there were issues with finding a field and coordinating everything. Apparently that delay was unacceptable to one young man, who we have never met. His name, coincidentally, is Jack. And he is 9 years old. Jack's dad is one of Jens and Suzie's soccer buddies.

Jack wanted to get our little charity fund going and he did not want to wait until May. So he put together a little pool for a recent Arsenal/Chelsea game: guess the time of goal, guess the goal scorer and guess the final score. As Jens told it "They sold tickets which had the name of a player, a time of goal, and a final score to the fans who were at Cuatro's to watch the game. A dollar a piece, with a percentage of the kitty going to you guys. At the end of the game, Jack's dad came over and handed me $25 for your kitty."

What an amazing little guy, huh? If he reaches out like this at age 9, what will he be capable of as an adult? It's so heartwarming and we are, once again, extremely humbled. So I wrote young Jack a little thank you note which I'll share here:

Dear Jack,

Jens told us today about the wonderful pool you set up for the Arsenal/Chelsea game and that you had wanted to donate some of the kitty to our family. We wanted to let you know how very much we appreciate your effort in doing this. And even more than that, we appreciate your kindness and your thoughtfulness.

It was a very sad and scary thing to have our home burn down on Christmas morning. I hope that no one you know ever has such an experience. However, I hope that every day of your life you get to feel the amazing love and support that we have felt since the fire - not only from our friends and family but from people who do not even know us, like you.

Jens tells us that you are 9 years old. Your mum and dad must be so very proud of what a wonderful, compassionate young man you are. A lot of 9 year olds might not have thought of reaching out to help a family of strangers who had just suffered a loss like ours. It shows tremendous maturity and kindness. You should be proud, you are a hero.

We can't wait to meet you so that we can thank you in person. Your thoughtfulness and actions have made a big difference to us, and you have made our day brighter.

Thank you so much,
Vicki and Jack and Aly and Emmett Newton

Virtual Reality

After we had the communal Christmas dinner at our wonderful friends Tracey and Steve's home, they drove us back to Mo and Ronnie's where we set up camp for a few days. It was the first time all Christmas day that the four of us were together, and alone (except for those first surreal and scary minutes before our neighbors were alerted to the fire). All was calm. We were exhausted, still somewhat in shock, and just beginning to comprehend it all. We all sat in Mo and Ron's living room together, just quietly talking. I'm not sure who started it, but we began telling one another what had been under the Christmas tree for each of us, and what had been in our stockings. It sounds so sad, but it really wasn't. We were all so gracious to one another, saying things like "I knew it would have looked so nice on you" and "Oh *thank* you, I would have loved that!". It was very sincere, and from the heart. The underlying message could not have been more clear if it had been spray painted across the living room wall. We were all there, together. No one was in a hospital, or worse. Despite the awful situation we are in, despite the sadness and the destruction, we have one another.

We'll always refer to this as our virtual Christmas.

An open letter (part one)

It is hard to ever imagine finding enough ways and enough time with which to send individual thanks to each and every one of you who have made your own special difference in one amazing way or another during this rough patch in our lives. Every kind word and deed, every hug, every unselfish act, every donation of spirit and object, has meant more than we can say. I hope to some day reach everyone on a personal level to express our deep, deep gratitude. In the meantime, there are some things that I would say to each of you. This is part one of a series. Some of you may have heard this from me already. Here goes:

On the one hand, I pray that none of you ever are in a position to need the kind of outpouring of love and support that we have received in the days since Christmas. On the other hand, I wish that you could feel it every day of your lives. It's a very powerful, very humbling, and very overwhelming sensation. We find ourselves asking what we have ever done to deserve such kindness.

Your compassion has given us the strength that we need to get through the next steps. If there is one more thing that we can ask of you, it is this: please check your smoke detectors. It is without a doubt the thing that saved our lives.

We love you all
V+J+A+E

Lessons Learned #3: The way things work

You might be wondering how the heck the whole insurance settlement and mortgage thing works in a case such as ours. This was one of 3,627 pressing anxieties that we had in the days immediately following the fire. We are six years away from paying off our mortgage, and we're deep into principal now. It is very rewarding to see your mortgage go down by leaps and bounds when you're in this stage and the mountainous interest isn't making up the majority of your monthly payment. And so it was that prior to December 25th we were happily winding down on the mortgage and figuring that we'd have about 5 rough years ahead with both kids in college during this final slide down the mortgage hill. But then...then we would have a house paid for and no college expenses and wouldn't life be wonderful and grand? We envisioned ourselves sitting poolside while gorgeous cabana boys with colorful accents served us fancy drinks with little umbrellas in them. Ok, maybe that was just me.

So when that fire ate our house, we immediately felt doom and realized that our perfect little plan was now spiraling out of our control. What we thought would happen was that the insurance company would give us the structural settlement (aside: there are multiple settlements and adjustors to deal with, just to keep things lively - you have your agent, the structural adjustor, the contents adjustor, and an auto adjustor - plus a whole cast of characters who crawl out of the woodwork and, believe me, I do mean characters) and we would have to pay off our mortgage first and foremost. Then we would take whatever was left over to use as a down payment on a new/rebuilt house which would of course come with its own 15 or 20 year mortgage. For people who were already not firing on all cylinders, this prospect was so overwhelmingly depressing. Pile that on top of ten tons of stress and 2 boatloads of anxiety, and it was not a pretty picture.

However, this piece of this particular story has a happy ending. We came to find out that the insurance company would indeed write us a single settlement check for the structure - which we would then turn over to our mortgage company. Since we have decided to rebuild, the mortgage company would be responsible for paying the builder (of our choice) in thirds. We just keep paying our same mortgage payments each month as if nothing had happened. In the end, the goal being that we have a new house with a 5 year mortgage left on it, at our current rate. That news brought serious relief, and we're hopeful that it actually goes the way "they" all tell us it will.

And that's the way that particular thing works.