The last nine years, almost to the date, have been a strange ride.
It started with a call to my husband from my doctor's office that I was being hospitalized. He was just about to call me.
He had quit his job.
And as the months unfolded, his dementia became more obvious.
Another son was out of work. He and his family moved in. A year later, she and their son left. Towards the end of our time in Channahon, another son and his family refused to resign the lease on their roach-infested apartment and asked to move in, too
Over the years, we had invested our own money in our church. We ran developed a Sunday school and a youth program, even remodeled some adjacent buildings on our property to host the youth group.
We also hosted elaborate monthly lunches at our church and two banquets a year. We bought and prepared the majority of the food, which was so good, when one couple was getting married, the bride's mother approached us and offered to pay for all the supplies if we could host a breakfast for the guests the day after the wedding.
We did all this while working four jobs between us. As a family, we delivered over a thousand newspapers each night. By day, my husband worked in the maintenance department at a local school district; I was a freelance writer and wrote about ten pieces a week for various publications.
We homeschooled.
But our pastor returned the generosity and supplemented us to the tune of $500 a month for 2011 and 2012 and $250 a month through part of 2014 so I could buy health insurance for my three youngest kids and me.
Because of all my husband's medical issues, I could not find a policy to cover him. This was pre-Obama care. And we fell just outside the income guidelines for subsidized care.
Eventually Aunt Martha's saw him. And with only one very kind doctor and me filling out the forms and talking to the state, my husband was approved for disability. But the road from job loss to disability was five years. And he had continued to decline during those four years.
The house his parents built went first. We could have stayed longer, but the well failed that fall of 2013. That meant no water and no septic. With eight people and five cats in the house.
By then, my husband, my children's stepfather, had left to move in with a relative, another blessing, because he did not have to see the dismantling of his childhood home, the home we lovingly remodeled, the home where we thought we'd live out our days and welcome visiting children and grandchildren into the fold.
At the end of hard days, some days I just want to go home.
Fortunately, we had run the youth group. And so we had a portable toilet on the property. My daughter-in-law, who worked in another town, refilled water jugs after work. Friends let us use their shower. We knew the best hours for frequenting laundry mats.
That hardship only lasted two weeks. We worked hard in that time period to re-home everyone.
Again, the failed well was a blessing. Otherwise, we would have been breaking down that house in the brutal winter of 2013-2014 (remember that?).
Some of the freelance worked dried up that fall, and I decided to stop writing and look for work. Right after Christmas, the Sun Times sold The Herald-News and Shaw Media bought it and hired me, a wonderful Christmas gift, indeed!
Instead of looking for work, I grew in my work with new opportunities.
Several months later, my three youngest kids (I have six) two of whom went to school and worked at Joliet Junior College, and one, who had just graduated and was working, and I moved into a two bedroom apartment.
We were right by the door and across from the laundry facilities, one of the sweetest spots in the complex, so it was yet another blessing.
A year later, a two bedroom townhouse opened up, and we moved again. This was the spring of 2015.
The kids continued to progress in their work and education. They gradually made more money.
So this weekend, we are moving again.
A three bedroom townhouse has now opened up. One son is staying in the two bedroom. My other two adults kids and me are moving.
It will be a bit of a crazy move as this week is super-packed!
Tonight, WriteOn Joliet is hosting James Finn Garner at 6 p.m. at the Joliet Public Library, 3395 Black Road, so if you're in the area, please join us! The event is free. But make sure you stop at the Book and Bean Cafe inside the library first. The coffee is excellent.
Then tomorrow night, I have tight deadlines for Sunday and Monday publications.
And then on Saturday, WriteOn Joliet will be part of the White Oak Author Fest, which will be 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the Crest Hill Library. Since no one can stay the entire time, Rebekah and I will.
How will we get the move done?
There's before and after work times and before and after event hours.
And we have wonderful family and friends who understand our insane schedule and are helping in between their own work hours.
See? Blessings abound!
The only sad part about all these wonderful happenings is that my ex-husband and my children's stepfather will not be here to see it. He has not passed, physically, but his mind has.
Since he's in a nursing home in another town, and I still don't have a vehicle yet, I'm only able to get down to see him once a week or so.
But I have two sons that live closer. One son has been excellent about popping in a few times a week and making sure needs are met. And I keep in contact with my oldest stepson, who's been great in coordinating care.
Tonight will be the last night in what is to become yet another former bedroom/home office, a little bittersweet, as I've written hundreds of thousands of words in this space.
But the pull toward the future is stronger within me.
I can't wait to meet our new home!
Illustration by Kathleen Rose Van Pelt for "Bryony."
