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.