a good trade

i had never met them before. they were friends of our friend kimberly. back in september, she had brought them to an event hosted by an organization we both belong to. her friends were not yet members so when the cool tchotchkes came out - awesome retro lunchboxes with our organization logo on them and a jazzy space-theme - kimberly's friends were left high and dry. tchotchkes were a perk for members only.

not surprisingly, kimberly had already given her ultra cool lunchbox to these friends when we finally mingled around to them at the event. michelle and kurt mentioned that the cool lunchbox would be a hot commodity at their house, with both of their kids probably grappling over it. as a mom i understood, and so i didn't really think much about it when i offered them my lunchbox. now they had two - grappling problem averted. happy to help! after all, we had received two - more than enough.

we didn't really have a chance to hang out with michelle and kurt after that night. so it was quite unexpected and so very appreciated when they ended up bringing a big hefty bag for us on christmas day. in among all the clothing was an envelope with some gift cards that their children had sent for our kids. again, we were humbled to think that they had stopped their own christmas day celebration to gather these items for us. again, we were touched that their children were moved to donate their own christmas gifts for my children, who had none. again, we came face to face with the kindness and generosity of people we barely knew - all because we had given them a lunchbox.

and that was only the beginning.

it turns out that kurt is a builder. and i don't really know whose crazy idea it was but within a few months, kurt was on board - right alongside kimberly who was designing the new house. and he wasn't just offering to build it, but to do everything in his power to find us deals and discounts, call in favors, beg and borrow - to shrink our insurance shortfall as much as he possibly could.

all because we had given them a lunchbox.

what kind of person does that? who accepts a miniscule, a little scrimpy act of goodness and decides to repay it by committing to a year of hard work, personal sacrifice, and total dedication?

in the months since we've gotten started, kurt has become more than an acquaintance, and certainly more than just "our builder". he is a friend. and he is part of a triad that is holding our family up as we work through this tough time, along with kimberly and basile. there are so many people who have helped in one way or another - and of course we appreciate each and every act of kindness - but they are here, day in and day out, making it happen for us.

all because we had given them a lunchbox.

today marks exactly six months since christmas day. the journey is long, but we've not taken a single step by ourselves. i'd call that a good trade - a lunchbox, for a home.

lester, chester, and morris

some days just seem astronomically tougher than others. the pressures of work, the pressures of insurance bureaucracy, all of the emotional baggage from demolishing a home and rebuilding a home, the discovery or memory of something precious that was lost, the receiving, the thanking, the normal teenage stuff, the large economy-sized teenage stuff, aly's graduation, realizing that i can practically reach out and touch the day when my darling daughter, my dear friend, moves 1500 miles away to fulfill her dreams, and the constant villain in the darkest corner of my mind - the villain of "what if?". what if we weren't celebrating a graduation? what if i didn't have to lie awake at night wondering when they'd get home (because they were never coming home)? it brings me to my knees. i can't wait to beat that guy some day.

anyway some days when just one more thing gets piled on the already full plate, the plate of many stressful things, the plate that currently seems to hold way more bad than good, the plate that obstructs my view of the horizon, and of the new day dawning - i find myself thinking that i just can't take it. it's weighing down on me, i can't breathe, it is a crushing feeling.

i know logically that "the only way out is through" and so i try to turn my focus to my inspirations. it's a challenge because wallowing is such sweet sorrow. but i think of so many people - really, SO many people - who have been dealt a much tougher hand than i've been dealt. to name a few:

my good friend lisa who lost her best friend, husband, and father of her children to a brain tumor almost two years ago. out of nowhere, it claimed him in about 9 months. chuck was describing the surgery he was about to have when i bumped into him in the grocery store the night before thanksgiving 2007, in his ever animated and expressive way - and by august he was simply gone. and while lisa secretly admitted to me that she had many moments alone crying in her closet, she took care of him right up until the end, always found a way to keep her home happy and balanced, and was an amazing example of grace and true love for her kids, sarah and sean. if only i could know her grace.

another good friend, jackie, who got her breast cancer diagnosis in january and took that kick in the gut like a prize fighter, who had her surgery in april and made it back at work as a teacher before the end of the school year, who still has the long reconstructive road ahead. not one day have i seen her without her contagious smile. other friends and loved ones, who have faced this and now are the welcome wagon for new recruits - kate, and lynne, my mom, my aunt helene, and countless others. if only i could know their determination.

my best friend and the love of my life, jacko, who not only has weathered every hardship i have weathered - but on top of that got his kick in the gut from a trusted employer and spent a year under the stressful anvil that is un (and under) employment in this sucky economy, and lost his dear mom nancy - all within that year's time frame. how anyone can weather all that and still wake up each day without complaining, without why me?ing, and continue forging ahead, through the fog, is nothing short of inspirational. and as if that is not enough, he shoulders all of that and gives me a generous gift of infinite proportions by allowing me the total luxury of breaking down while offering his already overburdened shoulder for me to lean on. his actions say "if your load is too heavy, i will carry some for you". he loves me that much. he is strong and he is steadfast. if only i could know his strength.

and my little friend marisa, mo's niece. a typical athletic, smart and smart mouthed teenager who suddenly found herself facing a benign but life threatening brain tumor 3 years ago. marisa went into a 12 hour, highly risky surgery with an unpredictable outcome followed by a long and tedious stroke-like recovery. with months and months of rehab and hard work, that little girl fought her way all the way back to where the effects were barely noticeable. and then the tumor returned just this spring. did she throw a fit? did she have a pity party? did she get mad at the world? i don't really know - she might have done all of those things (and who could blame her?) but she also named the three shunts they put in her head: lester, chester, and morris. in the midst of facing the possibility that she'd have to start all over again, this young lady found some humor in naming her shunts. if only i could know her courage.

i dug up a few of the plants that had rallied after the fire. i am going to plant them in my new "garden of what was".

at least three of them will have name plates. meet our amazing survivors: lester, chester, and morris - reminders that there is always a choice in how you respond to the hand you are dealt. a lesson i keep learning from someone who is 1/3 my age.

i know there are many many more friends, family members, acquaintances, and total strangers across the world who are facing tremendous hardships of their own.

my great grandmother used to have this little thing she said. she said "if you sit around a table with all of your friends and everyone lays their troubles out on the table, you'll take your own troubles back."

now, what were my troubles again?

Blue is the colour...

So the house is down, except for the garage which will be last to go (gotta give those guys some shade since it's already in the 90s every day here). It's weird to look at the slab. It looks so small. I can't imagine it held all the rooms that were once there. We were relieved to find out that we could reuse the slab. Structurally it is sound, but the plumbing running through it is probably compromised and most likely out of code, seeing as how it's 40+ years old. So we are doing all new plumbing. And by "we", I mean "they" - the guys sweating it out in that 90 degree weather.

People continue to be incredibly supportive and generous. With the house finally down, we can actually start to see the horizon. That was a major turning point for us, demo day. Sad yet hopeful, reluctant yet resolved. But overwhelmingly, the way people have reached out to us has been our lifeline. I could really see how something like this could have totally knocked us down. We have had our moments. But our family and friends and acquaintances and total strangers have been refusing to let that happen. It affects us to our cores. Everyone I pass on the street could be someone who reached out to us.

Our friends Jens and Suzie are diehard Chelsea footy fans. I mean they are so diehard that they get up at 6am to go to the pub to watch the games. In full Chelsea regalia, and full of Chelsea spirit(s). They are the ones who told young Jack about us (which I blogged about in "Today's hero: Jack"). So there are these two recreational footy clubs in Austin (well, there are more than two, but *these* two in particular) - Chelsea and Arsenal - and once or twice a year they engage in a little friendly competition by playing a benefit tournament. The players all pay to play, and then one of the players who owns a pub (Cuatro's, near the university) hosts them for lunch afterwards. All proceeds go to the charity.

We were (again) incredibly humbled when Jens first came to us and told us that we would be the beneficiaries for this tournament, which was held in early May. He and Suzie organized the whole thing, and there was quite a turnout. Our whole family went out to the field that day and watched some entertaining soccer. It ended up going in Chelsea's favor, but the comradery and goodwill of the day was palpable.

Back at the pub, Jens asked if we would present the trophy to the winning team. So the four of us stood up there, as Jacko eloquently expressed our deepest gratitude and appreciation to this roomful of strangers. I could barely express any intelligible words seeing as how the water works got turned on (again). I've given up on trying to control it. Anyway, when the gathering came to a close, there were no strangers in the room. Each one of them had become part of our story. I even got my own Chelsea t-shirt from young Jack's dad so I guess we'd become part of their story too.

Here were these guys - these young, handsome, sweaty guys (which I merely point out as a data point for those of you who might find that kind of detail relevant to the story) - there must have been 40 of them, who didn't know us from a hole in the wall - but heard the call and decided to help. Gave from their hearts and their pockets and had fun doing it (well, except maybe for the Arsenal guys). I made sure to go around and thank each of them personally. It's all I can do to hold it together when I thank someone I have never met for caring about my family. Over and over and over again. It's hard, but I want and need to do it - to touch everyone on the arm, look them in the eyes and say sincerely, thank you. I'll spend the rest of my life doing that.

A very sweet part of the whole day for me was when Jens told me that several of the guys had told him that this was the best benefit tournament they'd ever held - because we were there, and it was all very personal, and they could see how much their kindness and their efforts meant to these specific people. This normal, everyday family whose lives had been upended - and they knew they made a direct difference. It makes me feel good when something positive like that can come out of our situation.

There are more stories like this, and I want to chronicle all of them because I never ever ever want to forget for one moment how wonderful people have been to us. Not that I think I ever could or would, but to writing it down preserves the details better than my rapidly deteriorating memory.