My family and I really don’t celebrate holidays. We probably WOULD (a little more, anyway) if we didn’t have SURVIVAL in the brain rather than just living a “normal”, whatever that entails, life.
Tomorrow I turn 40; two days later, my husband turns 50. November 27, my oldest son Karl (adopted out since he was about 5) turns 18 and then we have Christmas and such coming up. I also lost Karl and his sister Katrina 2 weeks before Christmas 1999 and my husband lost his father around the same time, so needless to say, it’s ALREADY a hard time for us.
I know everyone gets to a place in their life where they thought life would turn our differently than it has- maybe for the better; more often than not, for the worse. I’m not sure about me- never have had grandiose dreams…just wanted to live and have a life. Be a secretary. Make my kids proud by graduating college when my adopted family didn’t even THINK about my going to college so I did it on my own.
I know I’m blessed- I have a wonderful family; one that the devil keeps trying to divide. Lots of people praying and it’s so much appreciated- but no one seems able to step forward and help us- that kind of love goes to others- animal shelters (nothing wrong with that in and of itself), other poor people- just not the Hameeds. We have to work stuff out ourselves, I guess. Wish there was someone who could and would help us. It’s not that it hasn’t happened- when we were in Chico, California, a homeless drunk reached into his pocket and pulled out all the change he had and gave it to Raphael and Ish. Another man bought us several days in a hotel so we didn’t have to sleep on the streets. That got us through. We left California- went to Iowa. That turned out much differently than we expected- and not for the better. Then another opportunity, just when that one ran it’s course- Colorado: a chance to help an old man who has diabetes. Room and board included. Sounded good, so I scraped together the money through an under-the-table job and out we came. A couple months into that, the man’s son came and it’s been downhill since. I lost my license because I went out looking for a job and got lost. Then found out (after being stopped by the police) that no registration, no insurance was applied to the car, we no longer feel comfortable here as the person who invited us in the first place now wants nothing to do with me. Yet another disappointment. Yet another broken road, only this time, no surprise train track to step on to ride to the next destination.
We know what we need: we need a motel room for about a month, maybe 2. That’ll give us time to hook up with Human Services, look for work (God willing) and we crossed a big hurdle today- getting our son evaluated for Preschool (he qualified as a person with a disability, so we have help in THAT department, thank God). We’re back to the old quandary the one that never gets resolved- if we leave, we’ll be closer to town- but separated; if we stay…not really a possibility. I have court in December to try to get my license back. Public transportation isn’t a problem- we’re from Los Angeles- I think we can figure it out.
I have had people praying for us. We appreciate it and in no way think of it any other way than a miracle, all by itself. However, in my human, scared way, I wonder if some people might not say that just to not have to say that they don’t have time; they don’t have the money; they don’t have time to think about anything else because they plan to buy their kids expensive toys for Christmas or whatnot. Maybe I ought not to even think about that but put yourself in my shoes…what would YOU do to keep YOUR family together?
Ok, I guess I’m done (on paper, so to speak) feeling sorry for myself. I’m desperate. We need to leave- not knowing where you’re going to be the next day is scary as hell so please forgive me if I step on toes or speak the truth because I’ve lived a long time and know how hard life can be.