A tale of two stories

Some of you know that I own a cleaning business. One of the things I love about it is seeing the houses. Houses of all kinds, brand new, well loved and vintage. Sometimes, there are cool stories, sometimes sad.

The other day we had an opportunity to clean a move out. It was in pretty rough shape, but the house was adorable. It was built in the 40's and though it had seen better days, I could totally see it in it's heyday. For me to say that, says something because I completely lack imagination. I could see a young married couple excited to move in to their new place. I could picture their small table by the window in the kitchen, big enough to seat only two. I could see the excitement in their faces as they arrange the living room with their furniture. This house was their hope and their dreams and their future.

The second bedroom was tiny, but the closet still had the original door and door knob. It was beautiful piece but covered in about 20 layers of paint from owners and tenants throughout the years. The keyhole was still present, but long since usable. The closet was small for even this tiny room, maybe 2 ft deep.

The ceilings were low, maybe 9 ft, but they were covered with what was probable asbestos tiles. A roof leak had made short work of about a 3 ft area of tiles. The lock for the front door had lost it's cover so the inner workings were visible. The gears still turned when you turned the key! The original hardwood floors were beat up,  uneven and swollen from wear and water damage. The carpets in the bedrooms had to be ripped up and they revealed where the bathroom use to be, complete with and old jalousie window. The stories this house could tell. Looking out the front windows I could just imagine how much that view had changed over the last 70+ years. I was just in awe of this tiny little  house that needs so much work.

The second side of this story is much sadder. The couple who had just been evicted was a 90 year old couple. A neighbor had reported them to elder care because they could no longer take care of themselves. The house proved it. It was sad to see the amount of filth that had built up, to no fault of their own I'm sure. I'd venture a guess that they couldn't even see it, drinks that had spilt down the wall, dirty handprints on the railings, large collections of small flies on the window sills behind the blinds and the dust that had accumulated along the baseboards. It was so heartbreaking.

The worst part was they have family that lives in town. No children, but family still. I can't imagine not checking on an aunt or uncle or cousin, even, in that situation. The home had been let go for a very long time. It wasn't just a month or two of build up. When I asked where the couple was now, I was told that they were at the hospital awaiting placement. It's so sad that these are people, people who lived amazing lives, yet at the end are forgotten.

Just like the house, they were alive and vibrant, and now after years of neglect, are sort of tossed by the wayside.

Wow, this took a turn down "Debbie Downer" street. I apologize for that, it just hit me hard the other day and I felt I needed to tell the stories.

to the moon and back,

Sense of Entitlement

Something happened the other night, wait... strike that. It didn't just happen, it slapped me across the face and made me realize I take waaaaaaay too much for granted.

And it started with a futon.

Jon and I rearranged our back room/dinning and decided that a futon would be a great way to not only make it roomier, but also add extra sleeping area. So, I did what anyone would do and turned to the swipswap pages on facebook.

Not too long after posting that I was searching for one, someone posted that they had one. She sent pics and I set up a time to go look at it. I asked what she wanted for it and she said to make her an offer.

Let me explain something... I hate making offers on anything. 1. Because I feel like I'm gonna get screwed and offer more than it's worth. 2. I feel like I'm going to insult the person selling the item. (PS don't even ask me to negotiate. "Oh, you want $20? Let me give you $25, I don't want to put you out.")

So, I wrote her back and said, "How about $40 is that ok? I really don't know what to offer."

She immediately wrote back, "I'll take that!"

I should have known then that something was up.

The following night, Jon, Moose and I loaded up in the truck, put the address in the GPS and headed for Deland. Here's the thing with GPS's, they don't tell you what kind of neighborhood it is. We may have chosen not to go.

The more we drove and the closer we got we realized that this may be a bad neighborhood. Then, we had to turn at a little run down convenience store. Across the street was a group of about 10 men who looked questionable to say the least (now, I'm sure I was jumping to conclusions and they were holding a road side bible study, but I digress...). We could literally feel them staring us down as we drove by.

We came to the neighborhood to turn into. It was a trailer park (not a mobile home or modular home development). The trailers all looked as thought they had seen better days. There were children playing in the streets and dogs roaming around.

I'm ashamed to admit that I looked at Jon and said "Is it too late to turn around?"

Then I saw her. The trailer she stepped out of was one of the smallest and seemed to be one of the oldest. She was all of about 18 years old and was preceded by her pregnant belly. Her boyfriend (and the father of her child who looked equally as young) was with her as was her dad.

Jon looked at it first and came back to ask what I thought. I said I'd look at it, but we would buy it no matter what.

When I got out to look at it, she said "I'll take $35 or $30, really whatever you guys want."

Jon handed her the $40 and we loaded it up and left.

As we drove away, I looked at Jon and said, "We don't even know how blessed we are. We take so much for granted."

We aren't entitled to anything that we have. In fact, we don't deserve any of it, especially if we aren't using it to serve others.

The pastor at a church we are attending said, "The money in my wallet is a tool to change the world, not buy more comfort." How are you changing the world? It doesn't take much. 

I'm not saying that you should be giving away everything you have, but are you using every penny you earn to buy your own happiness? The name brand purse, the fancy shoes, the expensive car, the over priced coffee (my word, did I just say that?)... Are you constantly searching for that one thing that's going to fill you up? You aren't going to find it until you find out how to serve others and give with a joyful heart. 

to the moon and back,

Perspective

I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely. Physical contact takes work for me, it doesn't come naturally. I even feel like I have a limit to how much physical touch I can take.

Well, last night at dinner, Moose was making it his personal goal to see if he could help me reach that limit. He could not stop touching, hugging, kissing me. He would rub my arm, climb in my lap, put an arm on my shoulder, place his head on my lap, and hold my hand. I love that he is so affectionate. I wish I was that way, but last night for some reason, I was about at my limit. I wasn't mad or upset, but I was feeling a little stifled. We were laughing and making a joke about it and he thought it was hilarious.

Then today it hit me, I need to cherish those moments because I am blessed enough to have them.

I would have been due with baby #2 this month if I hadn't miscarried back in March. That's a baby that I'll never touch, hug or kiss. I will never be able to rub his or her arm, hold them on my lap or hold their little hand. I will never be able to "reach my limit" on physical touch with that baby. You don't comprehend how attached you can get to someone that you never met. It's the loss of what could have been.

It's hard to think about that but it hits me every now and then and realize how luck I am to have a happy, healthy, beautiful boy. Not everyone gets that opportunity. My heart breaks for friends of ours who haven't been able to have kids and who are struggling through the ridiculous Florida DCF trying to adpot.

I realize that even if we don't have another child (yes, we are going to try again, but it's ultimately up to God), we are beyond blessed with what we have. I will relish every squeeze, every eskimo kiss, every butterfly kiss, and every smack to my (in his words) "beautiful spankable bottom" (thank his dad for that).

October 15th is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day. In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan Proclaimed October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. “When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.”

Here are events to get involved with and here are ways to show your support.