Pity, Party of One, your table is ready

I haven't been very funny lately. I know, I know. you come to this space to find the tongue-in-cheek witticisms to distract you from life, and I have been letting you down. in my defense, things aren't hilarious right now. And, since this space is all about me, it's well, all about me.

What changed, you ask? From the fight with the spider to zombie conversations...what made life So Serious? About a week ago, I realized: This is My Life. Just like that. I actually see it in caps. this is what I live. It is what it is, and it won't really get any better. I won't write the Great American Novel. I won't be rich, or glamorous. I won't rise to the top of the glass ceiling. I know, that doesn't seem that important, and I really don't want to conquer Corporate America. But I still want the option.

When you are young, the world is your oyster. Pearls are there for the taking. At twenty, you aren't a bestselling author..it's ok, there's time. In your forties, Time Is Running Out. You're old. You're washed up. You're irrelevant. Leave it to the youngsters, they have more energy, and why don't you just go and find yourself a nice rocking chair there by the fire? Yeah. NO.

I am usually a fairly positive person, though I bitch a lot. I can always find the "blessing" (how I hate that word..how pious it seems, but really, no better word can be found) in the mess. There is always a silver lining. For example: In 2006, we had a house fire. The structure was still standing, but we lost damn near everything.

We had to move out into a rental for six months, with little more than the clothes on our backs. We found ourselves wandering WalMart at midnight on a Sunday because it was the only store open, and we needed underwear, people! How do you put your life back together after that? We had to buy clothes, and pajamas, and toothbrushes and and and. I was in shock. It was awful. I would never wish the experience upon anyone. BUT. And here is where I am crazy: I was blessed. My faith increased, my family became closer, I learned gratitude. I started over. Now I try to keep only those things that as William Morris put it, "...you find to be useful or believe to be beautiful." And my house was completely redone, from top to bottom. For the first time, I had real bedroom furniture! And dishes that I didn't inherit from my mother! And a home that was completely my style, and brand new everything! And that was the silver lining. I didn't blog about it, the emotions were too raw. In fact, I didn't blog at all for almost two years. That experience helps to keep it all in perspective.

Cut to this last Sunday: I had one of the worst days that I can remember. Right now, JNerd is out of town, along with JBug. It's just me and the two youngers, fending for ourselves. Sunday afternoon, our cat started yowling and lying on the ground. He wouldn't walk, and something was wrong. So to the ER vet we went. Verdict: urinary blockage. LIFE-THREATENING emergency. Exactly the reason that vets exist. The vet needed to do some things that required sedating the cat, so I took the kids to Taco Bell for a quick bite. When I went to start the car, my battery was dead. I had to call AAA to come jump it, and hope that, since it was after hours and I couldn't call the vet, they would be understanding in case I was late. (thankfully, they were, and I wasn't). Because the battery was dead, I had to keep the car running while I picked up the cat. Environment be damned. I wasn't going to get stuck there...I had a sick cat to get the after-hours clinic for overnight treatment. And let me tell you, you haven't lived until you have pumped gas with the engine running for fear if you shut it off you will be stranded.

Finally got home after 9 p.m. and my kids were a wreck. Tucked them in. Made myself a drink and opened my laptop to find: nothing. The screen was black, but I could hear it was on. I tried a whole lot of tech support stuff ("Did you turn it off and one again??") but it was unresponsive.

So, a recap.. cat, battery, computer. It comes in threes right?

My point, people, and I DO have one... that day sucked. The next day sucked as I had to get up at the buttcrack of dawn to get the cat from the Night ER vet to my regular vet. Thankfully, I had my husband's car. Once I did that, I had to get my van to Costco so that they could explain to me why my battery had failed after less than two years. Turns out Costco doesn't install or remove batteries, but it doesn't matter because we don't have yours in stock right now anyway ma'am and there's an auto store down the street that can probably help you, have a nice day. Well. Fine.

I drove my van, which by some miracle started, to Pep Boys (who I cannot say enough nice things about, you guys!) Bought my battery. They took pity on the poor married lady who was abandoned by her husband for greener conventions, and took one look at the small ragamuffin in tow who was heat-bedraggled, and had me in and out of there in fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes! New battery, yay! And, Costco gave me a full refund on my battery that failed.

When I finally got home, and was reflecting upon the events of the last coupIe of days, and it was all feeling a bit like being pecked to death by ducks. Then it hit me... (here is where I get all treacly) I really am blessed. Talk about First World Problems! We had enough money and resources to treat our sick cat. I have an auto club so that I don't get stranded when I have a problem. I have an extra car so that I could get my cat and not rely upon the kindness of my friends. I have enough money to get a new battery, and the resources to get it installed. I am rich compared to much of the world. That thought shut me up. I really have nothing to complain about. No one is dying. These are all transitional worries. I realize how obnoxious this sounds. Who really appreciated when Dad said, "Eat your peas, there are children starving in Africa?" And honestly, I got smacked when I once retorted, "Well, then, send the peas to THEM!" (made sense at the time) I am not telling you to eat your peas. I'm really not. I am telling myself. I am reminding myself that though I just turned forty_ahem ...life is not over. Life is still beautiful. My body may be changing, and my youth may be fading, but life is still good. Life is always good. Sometimes I just forget it for a bit.

As I write this, the cat is still at the vet, and will probably be ok. It will just be expensive. And I hate having to spend the money. But I love the fact that I have the resources to make the decisions that are required. I am not loaded monetarily by any means. It will be a stretch and we may eat cheese sandwiches for dinner for a bit. (more or less) but I am rich, in all the ways that count. And that revelation? Is priceless.

No witty title, just a simple and heartfelt goodbye Bob

Early this morning, Bob quietly went gentle into that good night. And we mourn and we rage along with califmom, Leah, and her kids. In a situation like this, I suppose it is human nature to make it about yourself. What if it had been my family? How would we survive? What would we do? But, tonight, I refrain from going there. Because Leah needs me. She needs us.

She needs us to mourn with her, and make her laugh, and remember to sling the sarcasm.definitely do not forget the sarcasm! At some point, Leah may appreciate that Bob ended this life on Velociraptor Awareness Day. It just seems...right. Bob was a nut. In any case, she needs us to acknowledge what has happened, and to cry with her and to carry on as though everything was the same. And as though everything were different. She needs us to post our ridiculous tweets and goofy pictures. She needs normalcy, or, as much as she can get.

Or at least, that is what I think she needs. To be honest, I have no earthly idea what she needs, I can only guess. Which makes me feel very helpless...not a place I am used to being!

Tonight, JNerd and I, for wont of doing something, raised our glasses and had a shot of Patron, the premium tequila that was Bob's favorite. We drink to a life well-lived, and well-loved. We honor Bob's life. And we drink to the missed opportunity of being able to drink that shot with Bob himself. Just before he got sick, I met Leah and Bob in San Diego. We had dinner, and since I was driving later that night, I conservatively refrained from doing shots with the two of them. Though I didn't leave for hours afterward, I stuck to coffee that night. We reasoned we would have a "raincheck." That raincheck never came. A month later, he was sick.

So, tonight, we raised our glasses to a wonderful guy. An amazing and supportive husband; a loving father. And though JNerd had never actually met Bob, it didn't matter. Imaginary unicorn internet friends are ALWAYS there for one another. But don't let the smiles fool you, I have been in tears for them all day.

You say you want to help? I am so glad. Because this is a family that has been fractured, and with the expenses coming, they will need your support. Bob was also the sole income, so there will be some adjustments and transitions made. (Though I am not sure what those will entail,I can only imagine). So, yes, they need our help. You can go here, and donate via Paypal. Don't feel awkward, just think if it had been your family. Also, for the record, this paypal account was NOT Leah's idea...it was borne at the request of those who wanted to help. Posting it on her blog made it readily accessible. They say it takes a village. Bullshit, it takes the Internet. And, when she is ready, we will be here.

T, who is mourning along with my friend

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What you can do for califmom's family RIGHT NOW

SO MANY have asked how to help Leah and Bob, and this is the first thing we can do:

We can give. I know, I know..the economy. But. Every little bit helps. Can you find any amount? Not going to insult your intelligence to tell you to give up your Starbucks or any other thing. You know what you can afford. Do what you can.

Childhood friends of Leah's aka califmom, have started a fund to help the family with the expenses that come with Bob's illness. Insurance doesn't cover it all, and added expense of eating food out, keeping kids occupied... well it all adds up. So. Here is what we can do (posted from Michelle's facebook account):

Bank of America, Nevada
Account Name: Norling Family
Account #: 501008379041
If you're making a deposit in person, you must have the account number. BofA can not look it up for you, even if you have the account name.

If you would like to handle your donation by mail, please make your check payable to the Norling Family. Remember to write the account number in the memo portion and mail it to:

Michelle Wolfkiel
P.O. Box 193
Minden, NV 89423

She plans to make deposits on Fridays and balance updates will be available on Michelle's facebook account.

From Michelle:

Not going to worry about thank you's right now, but we will make every effort to keep track of everyone's name. Thank you all in advance for your love, prayers, and generous support of Leah, Bob, and their children.

As we celebrate Christ's ultimate sacrifice this Easter weekend, I ask you all to please give until it hurts.

Please feel free to repost this information wherever you think it might do the most good. You should also know this is a non-interest bearing, free checking account and EVERY penny will be available to Leah's family when they need it.

T, who knows you want to help

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Prayers for Anissa

She helped me eat kittens on Fridays. Well, we didn't actually eat them, we just discussed it. You see, we were annoyed with Follow Friday on twitter, and wanted to come up with something else.

Anissa is a trip. There is no other way to describe her. When I hang with her, I feel like I have been on vacation. On twitter she makes me laugh out loud. I can't drink anything when we are tweeting one another, lest I bathe my monitor! At Blogher she made me snort. Ask her about sex toys. In short, she's awesome. In September, I had the great pleasure of having dinner and drinks with her, Heather, Jim, Lori and Diane, from HP, a good friend of Anissa's. when she was here in town for a Disney event. We had a great time, and some wonderful conversation afterwards. Everything from favorite drink to gifted kids. Because that's what you can expect from Anissa. A laugh, some serious thought, then more laughs. Except for today.

She's a bloggy mogul, Aiming Low was her brainchild. She's a strong mother, she has three children. And Peyton just celebrated ONE YEAR cancer free. She has a lot to be thankful for. But today.

Today, Anissa had a stroke. I know, I was floored, too. There isn't much to tell. She is in ICU, and I will update when I know more. My heart aches for her family, but I know she is strong. She is a survivor. She is my friend. If you live in the Atlanta area and want to help, please check out this link. If you want to do something, and don't know what to do? Please pray for Anissa, and her family.

And Anissa, I am saving you a kitteh to eat.

T, who has a heavy heart

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You want fries with that? Oh wait, I thought I was somewhere else...

Tomorrow, Nov.14th, our church is doing a special Serve Day...about 2,000 of us are fanning out into our community and taking part in various projects throughout the day. My family has signed up to plant vegetation at Brea Olinda high school, to replenish the plants that were there before the big fire last year. We are especially concentrating upon a slope, hopefully to get some anchor for the soil before the rainy season comes.

It is so easy to say that we don't have time to serve. Sure, we are all busy, I know our family is! But to my way of thinking, we don't have time not to serve..if not us, then who?

I leave you with one of the funniest videos I have seen in a long time. This guy's YouTube account is a must-view.

T, who's bringing servin' back, yeah.

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I Didn't Think This Day Would Ever Come

Today is the beginning of a new day. I am so happy, and full of hope. Truly, it sounds silly, and I know I am supposed to be cynical. In this situation, I just can't be. I like him. I trust him. And I believe in the future we will create together.

There's a lot of work to be done, and a lot of mess to clean up. Crimes were committed and those who perpetrated them need to be held accountable. But, not today. Today is a day of joy. So I will just say....God Bless the United States of America.

T, who says let freedom...REAL freedom, ring

How Faith Is Born

When I was 15, I knew God loved me. Sometimes, I would go out at night, but always made it home by curfew. I would come home and turn the tv on, watching movies until dawn. I am a night owl, by birth, I think, so I am at my best in the wee hours of the morning. I would watch as one movie melded into another, as I was swept away into new worlds. When the Movie Go Round would end, the first vestiges of light would be peeking out from around the moon, and soon after, the sun would rise. I would stand on my porch, in Central California, in the early morning fog, and I would feel alive.

My childhood home was a 3 bedroom ranch house with a bit of property, a rural suburb of a larger city, which really wasn't large at all. My town didn't even have it's own post office, but I had horses so that more than made up for it. Over the years, my family had a small parade of animals: horses, a calf, pigs, ducks, chickens. We had rabbits for a very short time, until our neighbor's dog ripped open the cages and ate them. I remember the tears of both myself and my younger brother. I learned a lesson about the food chain that day. Also, lessons about cruelty, predatory behavior and that neglect and ignorance of your animals is abuse. The neighbor, a puffy swagger of a man was not bothered when he learned his dog had killed my rabbits in cold blood. I realized that day there are things more evil than an animal following its biological impulses. The dog couldn't be helped. The man loosely known as his keeper was another story.

But, this story is about God. On those mornings, with the fog blanketing everything in stillness, I could feel God. In Monterey County, the fog does not come in on little cat feet, contrary to what Carl Sandburg wrote. No, in Monterey County, the fog, which is ever-present, settles in with a thud. It doesn't so much float as paint the skies, the fences, the houses in a thick coating of black and white. Very like my beloved late night movies. Life becomes grainy and indistinct, and takes on an air of unreality.

Under the spell of the fog, ordinary spiders' web becomes coated with diamonds, the dew from the fog enveloping each strand the way Winston drips his jewels on movie stars. (The effect of course, pales in comparison to what the Master Jeweler creates). The fog muffles sounds, and though at five in the morning, there isn't much sound to speak of, what is there is muted, indistinct. Save for the sounds of the animals, who are talking to their Maker, there isn't much conversation.

I would stand on the front porch, and feel the enormity of Life...and, as teenagers are wont to do, believe it was all for me. It really felt that way. God was wooing me, with the day, the animals, the utter joy and peace that emanated from Him on those mornings. I fell in love with my Creator, the one who had woven and spun all that I could see, and so much more that I could not. I could feel the absolute sense of order, and the eye for beauty that one who was so busy with the world, would not seem to have time to find important. And yet, he did. And since I was the only one awake, it was all for me. I would pet my horse as my dog happily trotted at my heels and I would feel a kinship, a certain conspiracy since we knew the secret. God was alive and busy in the world. More importantly, he loved us.

I didn't grow up in a home where faith was the answer. In fact, my childhood taught me to believe mostly in myself. I still have no idea how I came to faith, except those mornings were instrumental in helping me to understand God. I hadn't read the Bible, though I had been to Sunday School some, with friends. But it was he who made himself known to me that pulled me to him. Though I had many years where I questioned, and a brief time in my youth where I followed, that time marked me indelibly as His. I didn't understand doctrine, but I understood Love. It was enough. It was a start.

T, who is waxing poetic tonight

Maybe We Should Only Eat the Ones Without Chocolate

Tonight we had a great time baking at a friend's house. JBug drizzled chocolate on cookies and noticed the patterns looked like chromosomes. (yeah, only she would notice that) She ate part of the chocolate and said:

"I just created a mutant!"

This explains much...why our genes are so crummy? Cosmic Baker is up there messing with the chocolate! Could he have drizzled just a bit more in certain places?

T, who likes cookies, especially the drizzled ones

Do you feel that?

It's a paradigm shift!

See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die

I really liked this...and it makes sense

More info at Conservatives For Change...

T, who has conservative friends, and they still like me

It's Like Herding Cats, Only Harder

I haven't been around much this week because our church is doing Vacation Bible School and I have to be up at the butt crack of dawn in order to get there on time. We start at 8:00 a.m. with worship and inspirational talk, but the only thing I want at 8:00 am is more sleep. I have been late every day by at least five minutes, and it is killing me. Trying to get homeschooled kids who aren't used to early morning "morning" needs a "u" in it... I want to cry every time I have get up early, because, as a serious night owl, my brain doesn't function in the morning. Some might argue that my brain doesn't function, period. Let's not go there...

So, what am I doing working VBS when I clearly hate mornings? I guess the obvious answer is because God told me to. But beyond that, the kids are attending (JBug is teaching as well) and I am a shadow/aide for special needs kids. Autism, Downs Syndrome, whereever I am needed, that's where I go. I figured, sure I can teach, but lots of people want to do that. This is something I can do, that God created me to do, that I am skilled in because of my children, and I can bless someone else so their child can attend the program. Because I would have loved if that had been an option for me when my kids were littler. It's a little like herding cats, but I love cats, so it's all good.

So I get up when my alarm goes off at the ungodly hour of 7:30. sorry if you are a morning person and think that is a nifty time to get up. I don't even think God is up at that time. Also? Bite me. I get up at 7:30 and I stand there and look at the wall. Then I remember I was supposed to be getting dressed. So I get the clothes I laid out the night before. I think they come to life in the wee hours, because they are never where I remember leaving them. I find my pants on the vanity, and the shirt on the nightstand...perhaps they attend some wild party and then sneak back in all wasted, then can't remember where they started out? Or, maybe they are just messing with me, knowing my brain doesn't function in the A.M. Or is this what evil lawn gnomes do at night when people are sleeping, move clothes?

Then I trudge around and get the kids ready to walk out the door. This mainly consists of me shuffling to a room, standing in the middle of it, dazed, and wondering what the heck I was trying to do. So I pad aimlessly to another room, stand there, hoping to have an epiphany. It finally dawns on me that clothes might be good for the kids to wear, so I have to find those (in the case of JBean) and wrestle help her into said clothes. This of course requires this exchange:

her: I don't want to wear that. I hate it!
Me: You liked it fine last night, when you chose it, come on now.
Her: No! I hate it. It's not comfy! I wanna wear something else!
Me: Ok, what do you want to wear?
Her: I don't knooooooow! Help meee!
repeat x 3

I then find the nearest wall, and contemplate banging my head into it. I am awake enough though, to know that would hurt. So I move on to breakfast.

I am a great cook. But breakfast? Heh, you're on your own. If God wanted me to cook breakfast, he wouldn't have invented the Eggo waffle. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. I don't eat in the mornings. In fact, if you come near me with food before 10 a.m., your life may be in peril. I can't stand the smell of food in the morning. Give me...coffee! But not before 9 a.m. So with breakfast in hand (did I mention Eggos are portable?) we search for shoes, beach towels (they get wet at VBS) and my sanity. Once we find the first two, we are out the door. the last one toddles along behind and hides until the clock hits double digits.

There is joy in a job well done. Knowing I am doing something hard for me (the morning thing) makes it that much sweeter to give to God. I have one more day of this routine. I told myself when I started that I could do anything for five days. And I have one more. So I am almost there. Don't get me wrong, I have loved it. I have made connections with children, that have just warmed the cockles of my heart. (yes I do too have a heart!) I have also had the privilege of watching my high schoolers step up and serve in the VBS as well. That has been wonderful.

All in all, I have enjoyed myself. But I come home absolutely wiped out, and so do my children. This leads to tears and tantrums. When I'm they're done, it's better. It is just necessary to wind down. So, one more day, and we are done. And on Saturday? Heaven help the person who wakes me before I get up on my own. I am sleeping in.

T, who likes mornings fine when they start later

What do you do that's extra-hard? How do you manage to do it?

Technorati: faith, morning, night_owl

Spirit West Coast Wrap Up

I saw some great bands at Spirit West Coast, and our "seats" (which are in parentheses because I didn't actually sit) were awesome. We were right on the gate for almost every concert we attended. I did get some pictures, but they were uninspiring, so I am just uploading to flickr rather than here. But I figured linking the music we saw might help some, so here it is. Some highlights...first:

TobyMac was amazing! He had the most energy of anyone I have ever seen in concert, secular or Christian. I was tired just watching. And he is older than I am. Put me to shame, I tell you. I used to listen to him when he was a part of DC Talk. I went to to this concert thinking I would hate it, and went for the teenagers. He's a bit too hip hop for me, but I was wrong. I ended up loving it!

Let's Get This Party Started

Diverse City

Boomin'

Lose My Soul

We also saw Third Day..their concert was very intimate and it felt like sitting in their garage. They took song requests and played them, I had never seen that before...nicely done.

Call My Name

Believe

Love Song

Tunnel (not their official video, but I really liked this version)

Mountain of God

This post is long enough, so more to come throughout the week...

Who do you think puts on a good concert and is a must-see?

T, who is glad to be home, but sorry it's over

Technorati: Christian, music, video, TobyMac, Third_Day, Spirit_West_Coast, SWC, christian_music

A Burning Question or What Autism Stole

Tonight at the grocery store, they were selling those "in Memory Of" cards for pets. Normally, I pass them up, but I was thinking of the three kitties we lost in the fire going on two years ago, now. So I ponied up and bought three of the cards. I had hoped to finish filling them out before the kids came back from the bathroom, but I wasn't fast enough. Of course little JBean saw what I was doing and wanted to know more. I showed her the tags with "In Honor of..." and showed her that Maia, Bon Bon and Beleu all had their own card. That's when her face crumpled, and she started to cry.

I know that crying is healing, and it is part of the process, but dammit, it is hard to watch your baby cry. It is especially hard because much of the time she tends to lock up verbally and does not talk about how she is feeling, so when she is showing emotion, part of me is thrilled and the other part feels like it has had its heart ripped out. She is just so sad, and really, who can blame her? It was a tough thing for me as an adult to swallow. For a child, and one with autism as well? It was almost impossible. How do you explain why three cats had to die in a fire from smoke inhalation? How do you make it ok? Like I said, it is going on two years now. I am not sure it will ever be...ok.

My beloved Beleu, he was my first baby. He came to live with us when he was little bigger than the turntable on my stereo. J used to hold him in his hand. He was there years later to usher in the births and introduction of each baby. And after a long and pampered life, I knew he was not long for this world. It was just a feeling I had. I thought we would lose him to old age, though. He was over thirteen when he passed. The firefighter was very kind. "They just go to sleep, honey. They don't feel any pain." I didn't believe him, not really. But I was grateful for his effort. At the time, I couldn't even process the horror that I was experiencing. We. lost. everything. And yet, the thing that hurt the most was not saying goodbye to my cats. Everything else? It could be replaced...

JBean asks, "Why? Why did God let our kitties die in a fire? WHY?" And? I have no words. Because, I have no answers. The only thing I can do is hold her tightly, let her cry and pray. We always pray. And we rail at God. It's ok, He is big enough to handle it. I have told her it is fine to be mad about it, it stinks. It's not fair. And God? He knows. And he cares, even if it doesn't always feel like it. After all, he did send us our new cats, and we raised them from kittenhood, with baby bottles after their mother abandoned them. They needed us; we needed them. Presented with a need I couldn't ignore, I was able to open my heart to new animals, something I wasn't sure I could do again.

I learned a lot from the fire and the aftermath of the experience. It changed who I am in many ways. I wouldn't want that taken away. But I surely would want to take away the hurt from my children, if I could. Afterwards, we put JBean in therapy. She scared us, because she just shut down. There were daily fits. She would become nonverbal. There was no interaction. There were times she just retreated deep inside herself and in her world of toys. I guess it was safe there. But we knew she had to deal with what happened. Thankfully, she never saw the house on fire. None of us did. We were coming home from a day of gallavanting around after church, so we didn't know what had happened until we pulled around the corner and onto our street. So she is saved that particular etching on her memory.

But she remembers the cats. She remembers how soft the little grey kitten, Maia was. She remembers how Maia would climb onto her bed and suck her fingers. Maia was four months old. She remembers Bon Bon and her fat, fat butt, climbing onto her lap and hanging over the sides. JBean is small, but it was still a funny sight. She remembers Beleu, the "silver cat", sitting on the bed with her, staring at her when she was a baby. She doesn't talk about these memories, but every once in a while, she opens up just a bit, so I know she has a lot of deep feelings that she just doesn't share. But today? She talked about the cats. She talked about how sad she was and how mad she was. And she cried. And I cried too, but not for the same reasons. Sure, I miss the cats. But I missed my daughter more. And if in this instance, the memory of her pets brings her back to me, if it helps her open up and let me see the private pain that autism locked away, then treasures have come out of darkness. And I find that pure gold.

T, who doesn't have the answers, not this time

Technorati: family, autism, tragedy

A Hard Post To Write, So I Won't

I promised you all that I would write about the fire that happened with our family home over a year ago. And I will. Soon.

I'll write about how we turned onto the block, surprised to see the firetrucks on our small street. And about the horror when I realized, "Oh my god, that's our house!"

I'll tell about the sickening lurch I felt deep in my gut as we pulled over to talk to the firefighters as they broke the news that our house was on fire. The Fire Chief was holding my Daytimer, trying to find a number to notify someone that our life had just crumbled.

The agony when I was told that we lost my beloved "first baby" cat, Beleu, to the smoke. He was 14. I had adopted him as a kitten. We would later find out we lost all three cats: the 14 yr old, the 4 year old and the 4 month old.

I could tell you how I went on what I term Crisis Mode Autopilot, or CMA for short. Someone had to be strong for my children, pull it together and be their rock, the one they could cling to when they were drowning in fear.

How I walked blindly through the kindnesses of the American Red Cross volunteer as he found us a place to stay, and gave us some money for things I had taken for granted just that morning: toothbrushes, underwear, pajamas. We lost everything.

At some point, the firefighters finished doing what they do and gave us our house back. Though it would be many months before we felt we had our life back again. The air was dark, and smoky, and standing in the ruins of what was once the hallway, I vowed that we would be ok, no matter what. I did the only thing I could do: something. I went searching for the lovies my children depend upon: Pooh Bear for JBug. He has been at her side since she was 4 months old. JBear's "blah", the tattered satin blanket he sleeps with every night. Next came JBean's "baby Tigger", the animal she sleeps with, plays with, sings to. Everything reeked of smoke, and my hands were black with soot. It was like a war zone. Destruction was all I saw. And that, from me, there were no tears.

I have memories of walking through Walmart, like some undead thing, because that is all that is open just before midnight on a Sunday. Shuffling through with the rest of the deadbeats and the drunks, absently putting items into the cart: toothpaste, hairbrush, remnants of my life, when I had one.

I could tell you about holding my children, and hearing their small childrens' prayers as they thanked God for the firefighters and for Mommy and Daddy and that we were all safe and together. Their small arms clasped me to them as though they were afraid I, too, would disappear in a puff of smoke.

I could tell you that the tears didn't come then.

Or I could tell about how I spent the first night, the night we were effectively homeless,in a hotel with my face on the floor as my family slept, praying for their protection and God's mercy. And, then, after everyone else was sleeping, the tears came. I know what it is to pray through the night, and baptise my Bible in puddles of fear and confusion.

Looking back, if I had known the steps that were to come in trying to rebuild, collect from the insurance company and all of the decisions that were to be required, I am certain I would have sunk to my knees and never gotten up. Add in a layoff in the middle of the rebuild, and it was a recipe for a breakdown.

I have a strong marriage.

I could tell you all of this, but though it has been over a year, I am still not ready.

T, who needs to get this out soon

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