Anchorless

There are three houses with a space set up for the children and me to stay.
The majority of our necessities are in one, my in-law's, in a room we lovingly call our "house room."
I have packed and unpacked bags weekly; moving seamlessly from one family to the next...
I have sold furniture in order to pay bills.
I have made arrangements to stay in one place so that I save gas money between scheduled engagements (I had promised and paid for Gavin to play basketball this summer, long before I knew what life had in store for us come winter...)
I have prepared food, frozen it, sorted serving sizes, made sure that there would be enough, so that we didn't spend money stopping for fast food...
I have let go, let go, let go...
But the stretching continues.
The house still has not sold.
The winter continues...

I fought for self-sufficiency.
I never wanted to make anyone do anything for me.
I wanted to be the strong one.
I wanted to be the one who had it all together.
We never missed a bill payment.
I hid money so that we had it in the lean years... so that we could always make the payments when the money was disappearing out of the account and I knew not where it went... I hid money when that big check came, because he couldn't spend it if he didn't know it was there.
And we never missed a bill payment...
I put my faith in my ability to keep ahead of the messes.
I put my faith in the hidden money to pay the bills.
I put my faith in the strength of Caleb to always be able to turn things around.
I put my trust in my smarts.
I put my hope in his jobs.
I put my faith, hope, and trust in all the wrong places...
It worked, for a time.
But the whole time, I was in a pit of dark despair.  It is an emotionally destructive cycle to try to stay one step ahead of addiction's destructive ways.
Now, I sit here, with my hands open, empty.
I have no wit to get out of this mess.
I can't sell the house.
I can't get a job that will pay the bills Caleb left behind and child care.
I can't afford to stop living with others.
I can't be self-sufficient.
The hidden money was spent long ago.
The bills continue to come.
The mess is just as big now, 14 weeks into Caleb's recovery, as it was when he left... but the noose is getting tighter...
The people who promised to pay for the work that Caleb did before he left, they still have not paid... 14 weeks later.  The total of what was owed to Caleb is near $20,000. For various reasons, people have decided not to pay their bills... There is nothing I can do about it.  And the material bill for the jobs sits on Caleb's account gaining interest.  Those jobs were going to get us through until the house sold.  Those jobs were going to fix everything... Caleb had faith in those jobs...
The bank, who was going to set up a payment plan for a debt, has now sent a letter saying it must be paid in full by the first week of February or we will go to court...
THE HOUSE WAS SUPPOSED TO SELL...
PEOPLE WERE SUPPOSED TO PAY THEIR BILLS TO US...
I never missed a payment.
I never missed a payment and Caleb never made it to clean, because he was always working, always making the money I hid and then racking up the debt as soon as it was paid down... then working, always working...
The mess is bigger than I can control.
I close my eyes and feel the waves crash over me as I try to tread water in this storm.
Interest.
Bill.
Interest.
Bill,
Collection notice.
Failure after failure after failure.
I, who feared failure all my life, am one colossal failure.
And when my focus rests on all of these failures, I feel anchorless, in the vast ocean, battered by waves so much bigger than my meager strength can fight...
And yet, I have not drown.
I begin to go under, but someone pulls me up, sputtering and I share a good meal with one of the families who have taken us in.  We laugh, we eat, we thrive.  And the children are happy.  Genuinely happy.
Their smiles, giggles, snuggles, and true contentment with life show they are not phased by this vagabond life we have been forced into...
I dream about going to school for my master's, about securing a degree in a field that is growing, where I could support us, give us an anchor... be stable for them...
I am ashamed of our situation.
I am ashamed of my failure to stay ahead.
I am ashamed that the house still sits, unsold.
I am ashamed that I cannot pay.
If they will wait until the house sells...
Maybe they will.
I will speak with the collections woman from the bank tomorrow.
I loath it.
I didn't ask for heroin to rip into my ordered world and vomit chaos on everything I touched...
I will be thirty in May.
I got married when I was twenty.
I married heroin, unaware.
I got married with no debt... with my bachelor's degree, but no school loans.
I carried nothing into the marriage but my clothing and my dreams... dreams about a family, a stable life of hard work and service to God while we raised up the future generation of God's disciples around the dinner table...

All that we ever had, we worked hard for, but heroin is a greedy demon.  It will not be satiated until every good thing is ripped to shreds and the chaos is complete...
By the grace of God, the chaos has been halted, and Caleb's life was spared.
That is where my focus needs to stay.
That is where my thankfulness needs to rest, that is my anchor...
The Grace of God.
Our children are whole and of a sound mind, they laugh, even now.
Caleb is alive and in treatment, still, after 14 weeks.
There is a house that could sell, and is worth enough to pay off every debt left...
We will be back to where we were ten years ago, but the debt would be gone... will be gone... when the house sells.
And we are ahead, because these children are what matters, and their spirits are soaring.  They love to watch God unfold blessing after blessing.  They love living with family, visiting with uncles and cousins... they love all the love and attention they get from grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles as they delight in life together.
So, maybe my failure isn't really a failure.
Maybe it is just an opening to find something more in life.
To admit how weak I really am, to admit there are messes I can't clean myself, to reach out to others and watch as God prepares new mercies for each day...
When the bank account is empty, I can't put my faith in money... When Caleb is gone, I can't put my faith in his provision.  When I run out of answers, I can't put my faith in my wisdom...
But I am not anchorless.
I am anchored in covenant promise to the God of the Universe.
He cannot be destroyed.
And even in this chaos of my failures and heroin's destruction, He holds me close, and I am not destroyed.
I am not destroyed.
I am not anchorless.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found,
Clothed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne!
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

I am grateful He is so gently removing my idols...
I am so grateful He found me worthy of learning the beauty that comes when God is the true God, and He holds the future... come what may, it will not destroy me... I will learn, I will grow, I will repent, He will restore.
And I will stand.
This family will stand in full awe and adoration of the God who would not let us be destroyed.
Thank you Jesus, for anchoring us so firmly, before the full storm began to rage.