"Remember no man is a failure who has friends."
-- Clarence Oddbody's inscription in Tom Sawyer given to George Bailey in "It's a Wonderful Life" 1946
I've put off posting this until Christmas, for reasons that should be obvious momentarily ...
This is an email I wrote to group of self described "assholes talking shit." They are complete strangers to me, people I've only communicated with via email, albeit for many year, introduced to me by another internet acquaintance, who I met though another person I've never actually had any non-computer contact with.
Total strangers, who I made no effort to get along with, who I often annoyed, who I wouldn't know if I saw them on the street.
I received the check from your collection yesterday. I'm really struggling to put into words my gratitude. I know at a few points in time I was less than everyone's favorite person on this list and I'm humbled and grateful and embarrassed to be on the receiving end of such generosity. I can't express how much it means to me to receive such a large amount from a group of 20 or so people with whom I've never met in person and had a grand total of one phone conversation with. My ego, my self esteem, my marriage has taken quite a beating the past few months. But my faith in humanity and human kindness is stronger now than ever.
I don't know if the total number was ever shared, but when it was first shared that there had been a collection taken up for me the amount was $700, a few hours later when was ready to be sent it the check was for $1075. That number absolutely blew me away.
I can't seem to put into words how much that means to be but I can tell you how far it will go. It's more than my monthly house payment. It's almost as much money than my wife makes in a month with her crappy minimum wage job she wouldn't have to have if I still were employed.
As far as how I'm going to spend the money, I don't know. I have decided that I'm going to cash the check and hold the money to give to my wife as her Christmas present. I haven't told her about your kindness yet, but I will. I always thought that the magic of Christmas died when you stopped believing in Santa Claus. I think this year you've proved that wrong.
Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart. Thank you.
This is my life now.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
So This Is Christmas ...
Another weekend another food bank. This one's at my former boss's church. I know this will be painful. If it were just my suffering I was seeking to aleve I'd skip it. But with a wife and two kids, with food running low I don't have a choice.
My consolation this time is I've talked my wife into going to visit her parents with the kids. I'll rise and depart before the sun rises, alone. I'll wait in line with the wretched and the poor, alone. I'll face the humiliation, alone.
This time the we're allowed to wait indoors in the auditorium. It's almost like we're human. No bitter cold or cramped spaces, while jockying to make sure I'm not cut by someone hungrier and more desperate than I. A nice, roomy seating area. It's a mere three hour wait this time. I find myself wishing I'd brought my iPod to listen to. But then I realize if I had, I'd be too embarrassed to listen to it. The signature white ear buds would announce how quickly I've fallen to everyone around me, and some would question if I'm really needy.
I sit and wait, talking to no one. Talking to someone, being friendly, means accepting my position in life. I can't accept it. I can barely acknowledge it exists now, let alone in the future. I sit, alone. After about two hours, the trucks arrive. Two semi-trucks full of discontinued and expired food, and the church volunteers start unloading and organizing it. I look around and breathe a sigh of relief. There's no sign of the man who decided my fate six and a half months ago.
I watch the volunteers unload, and stack and part of me feels like the least I could do is help. I want to help. I'm on the wrong side of the table. I should be over there, not over here. My life's so hard now that I have to take joy in the few little luxuries I do have. This is as close to having a waiter wait on me as I get anymore. Plus, god forbid someone mistake me for a real volunteer I might not get my crate of food. No, I'll stay in my seat and wait for the lady passing out bananas to come by.
FUCK! ....
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
The banana lady is my former boss's wife. While the rest of the volunteers work up a sweat unloading box after box from pallet after pallet, she has the job usually reserved for weak and infirm. Wheeling around a cart loaded with six dozen bananas, offering them one at a time to the patiently waiting. She starts down each row and the last thing I want is to be noticed. It doesn't take her long till she's starting down my row. I put knit cap back on, as if somehow that'll make me unrecognizable.
I start intently on the expert knot work I had used earlier on my shoes and I see her shadow slowly approach out of the corner of my eye. "Do you want a banana?' she asks person after person. She pauses briefly to converse with the person sitting directly in front of me before turning, "Do you want a bana..." she trails off as if my pathetic knit hat disguise had worked right up until that word. I barely move my head in the affirmative and weakly raise my hand to take the yellow fruit. I'm hungry, but the thought of eating that banana makes me sick to my stomach. I shove it in my pocket to take home to my daughter.
An hour later they begin passing out food, and the line moves. I look to see how painful moving through the line will be. She's near the end of the tables, passing bags of bread, Panera of course, to a very obese but cheerful woman who then gives it to the needy. Again, she's taken the easiest job, god forbid she might break a nail. I know I should just acknowledge her act of charity and let it go, but if she's anything like her husband, which I imagine she would be, she's not helping out of kindness, or charity, or even civic duty. She's helping to be seen that she's helping. She doesn't go home with a warm feeling in her heart from having helped people. She goes home with a warm feeling in her heart because someone important saw her going through the motions of helping someone less fortunate. I take the tiniest joy at the obvious discomfort she's in having been paired to work with the least attractive and most obese person, on their side of the financial aisle anyway.
I shuffle through the line and as near the tables I see the object of my disgust putting her heart and soul into her cell phone conversation, as she struggles to keep up with her partner passing out bread. I say "struggles" but that might be too strong a word. "Struggles" implies effort or disappointment in not keeping up. She didn't even seem to notice she was behind. I know we're all pathetic begging for food here, but have a little respect. At least she had the decency pretend like it was "too loud" when I neared her area and she stuck her finger in her ear and turned around, you know ... to hear better. I wanted to thank her for not making me feel completely humiliated, then I wanted punch her in the face for being such a douche bag.
Christmas is days away. The good news is the kids are taken care of. My wife, during much more prosperous times had paid to join a play group. They had their holiday party and apparently the weather kept most people away so they wound up having an excess of goodies, gifts and give aways. My wife came home with five garbage bags of toys and gift. Many duplicates, so even the kids in the extended family will get toys from us. We even had enough to put some away for birthdays. Granted the gifts weren't anything we'd buy if we had the money, but they were gifts none the less, and having gifts to give away helps hide to our families how poor we are.
I had to go to my extended family's Christmas without my wife. Just me and the kids. She had to work, and it broke my heart to go without her, but I know at least my family and the kids were happy they got to see each other. My wife calls after her shift and tells me about a co-worker. Her husband had just lost his job and they had a house fire the week before, or something like that, between a bad phone connection and kids screaming all I could really gather is they had less than nothing for their kids for Christmas. My wife wanted to know if it was already with me if she got some, not all, of the toys we'd stashed away for birthdays and gave them to her. I couldn't believe she'd ask me that. You don't ask questions like that, you just do it, because it's the right thing to do.
We're good people. We don't deserve to be here, but we are. We've lost a lot, and I imagine we'll lose a lot more before we're done. But I don't want to lose that.
This is my life now.
My consolation this time is I've talked my wife into going to visit her parents with the kids. I'll rise and depart before the sun rises, alone. I'll wait in line with the wretched and the poor, alone. I'll face the humiliation, alone.
This time the we're allowed to wait indoors in the auditorium. It's almost like we're human. No bitter cold or cramped spaces, while jockying to make sure I'm not cut by someone hungrier and more desperate than I. A nice, roomy seating area. It's a mere three hour wait this time. I find myself wishing I'd brought my iPod to listen to. But then I realize if I had, I'd be too embarrassed to listen to it. The signature white ear buds would announce how quickly I've fallen to everyone around me, and some would question if I'm really needy.
I sit and wait, talking to no one. Talking to someone, being friendly, means accepting my position in life. I can't accept it. I can barely acknowledge it exists now, let alone in the future. I sit, alone. After about two hours, the trucks arrive. Two semi-trucks full of discontinued and expired food, and the church volunteers start unloading and organizing it. I look around and breathe a sigh of relief. There's no sign of the man who decided my fate six and a half months ago.
I watch the volunteers unload, and stack and part of me feels like the least I could do is help. I want to help. I'm on the wrong side of the table. I should be over there, not over here. My life's so hard now that I have to take joy in the few little luxuries I do have. This is as close to having a waiter wait on me as I get anymore. Plus, god forbid someone mistake me for a real volunteer I might not get my crate of food. No, I'll stay in my seat and wait for the lady passing out bananas to come by.
FUCK! ....
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
The banana lady is my former boss's wife. While the rest of the volunteers work up a sweat unloading box after box from pallet after pallet, she has the job usually reserved for weak and infirm. Wheeling around a cart loaded with six dozen bananas, offering them one at a time to the patiently waiting. She starts down each row and the last thing I want is to be noticed. It doesn't take her long till she's starting down my row. I put knit cap back on, as if somehow that'll make me unrecognizable.
I start intently on the expert knot work I had used earlier on my shoes and I see her shadow slowly approach out of the corner of my eye. "Do you want a banana?' she asks person after person. She pauses briefly to converse with the person sitting directly in front of me before turning, "Do you want a bana..." she trails off as if my pathetic knit hat disguise had worked right up until that word. I barely move my head in the affirmative and weakly raise my hand to take the yellow fruit. I'm hungry, but the thought of eating that banana makes me sick to my stomach. I shove it in my pocket to take home to my daughter.
An hour later they begin passing out food, and the line moves. I look to see how painful moving through the line will be. She's near the end of the tables, passing bags of bread, Panera of course, to a very obese but cheerful woman who then gives it to the needy. Again, she's taken the easiest job, god forbid she might break a nail. I know I should just acknowledge her act of charity and let it go, but if she's anything like her husband, which I imagine she would be, she's not helping out of kindness, or charity, or even civic duty. She's helping to be seen that she's helping. She doesn't go home with a warm feeling in her heart from having helped people. She goes home with a warm feeling in her heart because someone important saw her going through the motions of helping someone less fortunate. I take the tiniest joy at the obvious discomfort she's in having been paired to work with the least attractive and most obese person, on their side of the financial aisle anyway.
I shuffle through the line and as near the tables I see the object of my disgust putting her heart and soul into her cell phone conversation, as she struggles to keep up with her partner passing out bread. I say "struggles" but that might be too strong a word. "Struggles" implies effort or disappointment in not keeping up. She didn't even seem to notice she was behind. I know we're all pathetic begging for food here, but have a little respect. At least she had the decency pretend like it was "too loud" when I neared her area and she stuck her finger in her ear and turned around, you know ... to hear better. I wanted to thank her for not making me feel completely humiliated, then I wanted punch her in the face for being such a douche bag.
Christmas is days away. The good news is the kids are taken care of. My wife, during much more prosperous times had paid to join a play group. They had their holiday party and apparently the weather kept most people away so they wound up having an excess of goodies, gifts and give aways. My wife came home with five garbage bags of toys and gift. Many duplicates, so even the kids in the extended family will get toys from us. We even had enough to put some away for birthdays. Granted the gifts weren't anything we'd buy if we had the money, but they were gifts none the less, and having gifts to give away helps hide to our families how poor we are.
I had to go to my extended family's Christmas without my wife. Just me and the kids. She had to work, and it broke my heart to go without her, but I know at least my family and the kids were happy they got to see each other. My wife calls after her shift and tells me about a co-worker. Her husband had just lost his job and they had a house fire the week before, or something like that, between a bad phone connection and kids screaming all I could really gather is they had less than nothing for their kids for Christmas. My wife wanted to know if it was already with me if she got some, not all, of the toys we'd stashed away for birthdays and gave them to her. I couldn't believe she'd ask me that. You don't ask questions like that, you just do it, because it's the right thing to do.
We're good people. We don't deserve to be here, but we are. We've lost a lot, and I imagine we'll lose a lot more before we're done. But I don't want to lose that.
This is my life now.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Crash Into Me
Night fall comes earlier outside of city limits. The cityscape that battles the darkness each night has no troops on this front and the emptiness of the night time doesn't hesitate here. It's cold and lonely. Sometimes you go outside just to watch your breath catch meet the chill of the night to make sure you're still alive.
To say I'm alone with my thoughts at night is an understatement. My wife turns in just after what most people call an early dinner so she can be at work by 3am, on a good night the kids follow an hour or so after. On a bad night, they scream and yell and wake her up which makes her scream and yell and the whole process becomes painful and tedious.
In the begining of this whole mess, I called it a silver lining to spend more time with the kids. But trying to put to bed two overtired children, with out anyone raising a voice above the whisper, is painful. I love the kids and I love spending time with them, but throw one little wrench into the nightly routine, and all enjoyment is sucked out of it. Something as small as my wife staying up fifteen minutes late and it's and hour of temper tantrums by the daughter and another hour after that of my son being almost asleep. Asleep enough I can't move, not asleep enough to put him down without waking him and starting the ritual over again.
I call those the bad nights, but the good nights I'm left alone, walking through a shell of a house, surveying all I have to loose. I try to lose myself in chores or the like, but all the mindless chores just let my mind wonder back to the helplessness of it all. Sometimes I can't help thinking to myself what's the point of cleaning a house that's more valuable to be up in flames than keeping me warm at night. I'd never do it of course, but the stark cold reality of that fact adds to the dispair.
Thanksgiving was tough. We went to my parents, and while the family used the time to plan the Christmas holidays, I couldn't muster up the nerve to ask them to count us out. Maybe it's misplaced hope that something will come through between now and then, maybe it's the last bit of pride I'm holding onto, maybe it's just complete desperation in needing something, anything new in the house to provide the tiniest bit of hope that keeps me from calling it off competely. Thankfully, and I hate to use that word in this context, but thankfully my grandmother decided to reschedule the extended family Christmas and my wife will most likely have to work then, so two wrongs make a right, or at least a not as sucky there. It's one thing to admit to my parents and sisters we're flat broke, thrown in the cousins and aunts and uncles ... shit. I don't think I'd call my self happy to skip Christmas, but if there was going to be a year to miss it, this is it.
As for the immediate family, I'm working on gifts. I mean my wife and I have always embraced that a heartfelt gift is much better than a expensive gift, and we've given cook books with family recipies and hand knitted scarfs, and calenders with pictures of my daughter. But even crafts take craft supplies and we don't have money even for the supplies. The only thing we seem to have in surplus is empty baby food jars, and we wouldn't even have that if it weren't for WIC. If we did have money for the supplies, why would we spend it on gifts when we have house and heating payments to make? I managed to get one sister a gift off of the free area of Craigslist. My other sister, I think I'm going to check out a CD from the library and copying it for her. I know it's the thought that counts, but I'm not putting thought into it. I'm looking at their wish list and going "What can I give them that doesn't cost anything?" I'm not sure which is worse coming off as that fucking cheap, or coming off as that fucking broke. Neither sounds appealing.
My computer died just before Thanksgiving. If you must buy a computer, being in the market for one on Black Friday is the best time to do that. Still we're broke. Taking the $200 my grandparents previously gave me, added to what we could afford to spend we had a total of $200 to spend on the computer. The lowest priced one I could find was $229. I can't believe that it's come to the point where $29 plus tax seems like a lot of money, but given the dire straights we're in it still felt like a necessary purchase. Without it, there's no way to hunt for jobs, or sell things on eBay or Graigslist, or freelance work or anything else that might keep us a float. My sister will want her lap top back eventually. If things are bad now, they'll only get that much worse with the lifeline cut off. Out here, in the middle of no where, calling it a line line isn't a metaphor it's a fact.
The down side of this cheap computer is it's brand. While beggars can't be choosers, my last two computers have been the same brand, and both have suddenly and without warning died on me mere minutes after the one year warranty expired. So I don't want this computer, but I don't feel there's an option. What if it dies in a year and we still can't afford a computer? Then what? I'm browsing the circulars while the Macy's parade is on TV trying to find something else in the next to nothing price range and my father's doing the whole you get what you pay for bit. He's found a $500 computer in a circular that fits our actual needs. "Spend more now and you'll pay less later," he says and he really doesn't need to convince me, but he obviously doesn't get how poor we really are. My wife, on the other hand, has unexpectedly taken the position that we won't be getting any computer.
Have you ever tried to have a fight with you wife, while your parents are in the room, and not let them know you're fighting? It's awkward and embarassing. It sucks even worse when you know she's 100% right. I knew we couldn't afford it, but at the same time could we afford not to have a computer? I eventually relent. We'll go without and hope for the best before we need to return the laptop.
We head to my Grandmother's for Thanksgiving and it's a subdues affair. My immediate family and my grandparents, no extended family. After dinner my wife excuses herself to the other room to call her parents and wish them happy Thanksgiving. After the call she leans over to me and whispers "Get the more expensive one." Instead of gifts, they're giving us cash for Christmas, enough to cover the remainder of that $500 computer.
The challenge now, is the black Friday crowd. We got back to my parents around 8pm. By the time I mapped out a battle plan it was nine o'clock. My father said he'd been to this store on Black Friday and being there an hour before the 6am opening time should be more than enough time to get whatever I wanted. I seem to recall that being the case as well from several years before. I left the house at 1am anyway. Couldn't take the chance. I pulled into the parking lot and there were three cars in the lot. We entered into an uneasy and unspoken truce, none of us would leave our cars until the someone else did. None of us wanted to brave the snow flurries. At 3am the truce was broken by a new arrival and with blankets in hand we all waited, sleep deprived, in the cold until 6am. Third in line, I had no problem getting what I wanted. I was out of the store and back in bed before the rest of the family awoke.
Hope is a funny thing, especially in dire straights like this. Having this new computer, although it offers nothing tangible that the old computer didn't as far as offer assistance in finding a job, has been a morale boost. On the other hand my wife bit into a sandwich the other day only to find the bread crust was hard and stale and you would have though we'd just been foreclosed on. Many people find the strength they need in their religion, by going to church. I was raised in a mixed religion family so we celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah. I call myself Jewish, but it's more of an ideological similarity than belief in the mythos. So finding that spiritual support in a church isn't really an option. Even if I considered my Jewish faith strong enough to find support there, it's an hour drive, one way, to the nearest temple. I feel guilty going to food banks because they're all at churches and in some strange way I feel like they "payment" that's expected for the free food is to believe in the same God they do. I know they wouldn't turn me down, but still it's one more that makes the process of begging for food more painful.
With that said I prayed for the first time in what must have been years the other night. I wondered onto my back deck, a place I find myself often late at night, and just looked up at the cold dark starry sky. I know there's a God. I see that every time I look up into the sky at night. There's zero light pollution out here. It's easy to forget how small we all are in the grand scheme of things when you live in the city. But out here, on my back deck I feel like I can see the whole of the universe and I feel so small and so enlightened at the same time. Like I'm one of the few people who remembers that all of that is still up there. There is a God. I see that every time my kids smile at me. That twinkle in their eyes shows me something that can't be explained any other way.
What I can't see now is how this all ends. That's what I prayed. I stood on my back deck, looking up at the vast expanse of the cosmos and asked God, "How am I supposed to take of my kids? How am I supposed to take care of my wife? How am I even supposed to take care of this stupid dog my wife hates? Whatever lesson you're trying to teach me, teach it to me! Whatever I'm supposed to learn, I want to learn it. I'm tired and I'm scared. And don't know what else to do. Please ...."
This is my life now.
To say I'm alone with my thoughts at night is an understatement. My wife turns in just after what most people call an early dinner so she can be at work by 3am, on a good night the kids follow an hour or so after. On a bad night, they scream and yell and wake her up which makes her scream and yell and the whole process becomes painful and tedious.
In the begining of this whole mess, I called it a silver lining to spend more time with the kids. But trying to put to bed two overtired children, with out anyone raising a voice above the whisper, is painful. I love the kids and I love spending time with them, but throw one little wrench into the nightly routine, and all enjoyment is sucked out of it. Something as small as my wife staying up fifteen minutes late and it's and hour of temper tantrums by the daughter and another hour after that of my son being almost asleep. Asleep enough I can't move, not asleep enough to put him down without waking him and starting the ritual over again.
I call those the bad nights, but the good nights I'm left alone, walking through a shell of a house, surveying all I have to loose. I try to lose myself in chores or the like, but all the mindless chores just let my mind wonder back to the helplessness of it all. Sometimes I can't help thinking to myself what's the point of cleaning a house that's more valuable to be up in flames than keeping me warm at night. I'd never do it of course, but the stark cold reality of that fact adds to the dispair.
Thanksgiving was tough. We went to my parents, and while the family used the time to plan the Christmas holidays, I couldn't muster up the nerve to ask them to count us out. Maybe it's misplaced hope that something will come through between now and then, maybe it's the last bit of pride I'm holding onto, maybe it's just complete desperation in needing something, anything new in the house to provide the tiniest bit of hope that keeps me from calling it off competely. Thankfully, and I hate to use that word in this context, but thankfully my grandmother decided to reschedule the extended family Christmas and my wife will most likely have to work then, so two wrongs make a right, or at least a not as sucky there. It's one thing to admit to my parents and sisters we're flat broke, thrown in the cousins and aunts and uncles ... shit. I don't think I'd call my self happy to skip Christmas, but if there was going to be a year to miss it, this is it.
As for the immediate family, I'm working on gifts. I mean my wife and I have always embraced that a heartfelt gift is much better than a expensive gift, and we've given cook books with family recipies and hand knitted scarfs, and calenders with pictures of my daughter. But even crafts take craft supplies and we don't have money even for the supplies. The only thing we seem to have in surplus is empty baby food jars, and we wouldn't even have that if it weren't for WIC. If we did have money for the supplies, why would we spend it on gifts when we have house and heating payments to make? I managed to get one sister a gift off of the free area of Craigslist. My other sister, I think I'm going to check out a CD from the library and copying it for her. I know it's the thought that counts, but I'm not putting thought into it. I'm looking at their wish list and going "What can I give them that doesn't cost anything?" I'm not sure which is worse coming off as that fucking cheap, or coming off as that fucking broke. Neither sounds appealing.
My computer died just before Thanksgiving. If you must buy a computer, being in the market for one on Black Friday is the best time to do that. Still we're broke. Taking the $200 my grandparents previously gave me, added to what we could afford to spend we had a total of $200 to spend on the computer. The lowest priced one I could find was $229. I can't believe that it's come to the point where $29 plus tax seems like a lot of money, but given the dire straights we're in it still felt like a necessary purchase. Without it, there's no way to hunt for jobs, or sell things on eBay or Graigslist, or freelance work or anything else that might keep us a float. My sister will want her lap top back eventually. If things are bad now, they'll only get that much worse with the lifeline cut off. Out here, in the middle of no where, calling it a line line isn't a metaphor it's a fact.
The down side of this cheap computer is it's brand. While beggars can't be choosers, my last two computers have been the same brand, and both have suddenly and without warning died on me mere minutes after the one year warranty expired. So I don't want this computer, but I don't feel there's an option. What if it dies in a year and we still can't afford a computer? Then what? I'm browsing the circulars while the Macy's parade is on TV trying to find something else in the next to nothing price range and my father's doing the whole you get what you pay for bit. He's found a $500 computer in a circular that fits our actual needs. "Spend more now and you'll pay less later," he says and he really doesn't need to convince me, but he obviously doesn't get how poor we really are. My wife, on the other hand, has unexpectedly taken the position that we won't be getting any computer.
Have you ever tried to have a fight with you wife, while your parents are in the room, and not let them know you're fighting? It's awkward and embarassing. It sucks even worse when you know she's 100% right. I knew we couldn't afford it, but at the same time could we afford not to have a computer? I eventually relent. We'll go without and hope for the best before we need to return the laptop.
We head to my Grandmother's for Thanksgiving and it's a subdues affair. My immediate family and my grandparents, no extended family. After dinner my wife excuses herself to the other room to call her parents and wish them happy Thanksgiving. After the call she leans over to me and whispers "Get the more expensive one." Instead of gifts, they're giving us cash for Christmas, enough to cover the remainder of that $500 computer.
The challenge now, is the black Friday crowd. We got back to my parents around 8pm. By the time I mapped out a battle plan it was nine o'clock. My father said he'd been to this store on Black Friday and being there an hour before the 6am opening time should be more than enough time to get whatever I wanted. I seem to recall that being the case as well from several years before. I left the house at 1am anyway. Couldn't take the chance. I pulled into the parking lot and there were three cars in the lot. We entered into an uneasy and unspoken truce, none of us would leave our cars until the someone else did. None of us wanted to brave the snow flurries. At 3am the truce was broken by a new arrival and with blankets in hand we all waited, sleep deprived, in the cold until 6am. Third in line, I had no problem getting what I wanted. I was out of the store and back in bed before the rest of the family awoke.
Hope is a funny thing, especially in dire straights like this. Having this new computer, although it offers nothing tangible that the old computer didn't as far as offer assistance in finding a job, has been a morale boost. On the other hand my wife bit into a sandwich the other day only to find the bread crust was hard and stale and you would have though we'd just been foreclosed on. Many people find the strength they need in their religion, by going to church. I was raised in a mixed religion family so we celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah. I call myself Jewish, but it's more of an ideological similarity than belief in the mythos. So finding that spiritual support in a church isn't really an option. Even if I considered my Jewish faith strong enough to find support there, it's an hour drive, one way, to the nearest temple. I feel guilty going to food banks because they're all at churches and in some strange way I feel like they "payment" that's expected for the free food is to believe in the same God they do. I know they wouldn't turn me down, but still it's one more that makes the process of begging for food more painful.
With that said I prayed for the first time in what must have been years the other night. I wondered onto my back deck, a place I find myself often late at night, and just looked up at the cold dark starry sky. I know there's a God. I see that every time I look up into the sky at night. There's zero light pollution out here. It's easy to forget how small we all are in the grand scheme of things when you live in the city. But out here, on my back deck I feel like I can see the whole of the universe and I feel so small and so enlightened at the same time. Like I'm one of the few people who remembers that all of that is still up there. There is a God. I see that every time my kids smile at me. That twinkle in their eyes shows me something that can't be explained any other way.
What I can't see now is how this all ends. That's what I prayed. I stood on my back deck, looking up at the vast expanse of the cosmos and asked God, "How am I supposed to take of my kids? How am I supposed to take care of my wife? How am I even supposed to take care of this stupid dog my wife hates? Whatever lesson you're trying to teach me, teach it to me! Whatever I'm supposed to learn, I want to learn it. I'm tired and I'm scared. And don't know what else to do. Please ...."
This is my life now.
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