In a recent blog post I mentioned that in 2018 my mind began to clear from a three-year fog.  Life was beginning to come back in to focus.  I started to feel a little normal again.  Well, at least what was to be a new normal for me at that time.  I was beginning to accept that the new me was as good as it was going to get, compared to what and who I was before.  And coming to grips with that was a huge turning point for me in my journey of recovery.  There’s no exact date I can reference in 2018 where I felt like I was righting the ship, but instead it was a process.  A few steps forward, a couple steps back, and so forth.  But I was making progress.  It was a busy year, both good for a lot of reasons, and bittersweet for other reasons. 

Leading up to 2018, there was a significant event in 2017 that helped me along.  But first, let me backtrack a little further.  In late 2016 I went to stay with my sister and her husband for a couple months in Louisiana.  But I couldn’t stay that far away from my kids who were in Florida.  So, in early 2017, I stayed with my mom in Alabama for a few months and commuted an hour and a half each way to work in Florida.  An hour and a half on a good day.  Sometimes the trip would take two hours each way.  It was tiring, but I was on the right track.

I called about a little condo that was for rent that was close to both work and my kids.  I found out they were planning to pull the listing for the rental and sell the unit.  But they offered to show it to me and if I wanted it, they would rent it to me.  I went to look at the condo and loved it.  I told them to give a few days and that I would let them know.  I was basically broke.  I was working again for the first time in a year but had nothing other than whatever was on the next paycheck.  I wasn’t sure I could pull it off, but I had to try. 

When I called to let them know I wanted the condo, the lady said, “Great!” and told me to meet her after work with the deposit and she would bring the lease and the keys.  She went on to say that it was perfect timing because they were going out of town the next day for the rest of the month.  Uh-oh.  My checkbook was in Alabama where I was living and I was at work, in Florida.  To my surprise, she said that was not a problem.  She told me to come get the keys, sign the lease, and I could mail the deposit and the first month’s rent.  And they let me move in mid-month without charging for those two weeks.  This was already going better than I imagined it could.

The first time I looked at the condo, I asked how much of the stuff in the condo was staying.  There were beds, a dining room table, plates, cups, cookware, wall art, towels, linens, and much more.  No couch, chairs, or any other place for sitting.  But it had almost everything else.  She assured me that it would all be gone if I decided I wanted the place.  I explained that I was going through a divorce and only had a couple things to my name.  She said they would leave anything I needed.  No extra charge.  Even better.

When I showed up to sign the lease, the lady had brought back clean linens and towels that had been in the condo from when I first looked at it.  That’s the kind of people I was dealing with.  Awesome, terrific, people.  This was amazing.  I couldn’t believe how much they were going out of their way for me; how generous I felt they were being.  They didn’t know me.  They had no idea what I was going through and that in reality, I didn’t know myself if I was going to be able to maintain a job and pay my bills.  Why would they do all this?  Half month rent free.  Trusting that I would actually send the deposit and rent checks within a couple weeks.  Mostly furnished without charging extra.  Washing the linens and towels for me.  God was blessing me in a big way and using these awesome people to do it. 

And that little condo was awesome.  It was perfect for me.  Surprisingly inexpensive and it was on the bay.  My unit faced the pool, but I could walk around the other buildings to cast a fishing line, watch the sunset, or just relax by the water.  As great as it was, I was still financially unstable.  Shortly after moving in, I emptied my change jar so I could buy new underwear and some skid-resistant shoes for my job.  I went to one of those coin machines and dumped in the coins.  And to avoid the 4% fee of using the machine I opted for an Amazon eCard thing, which made the coin-changing process free.  I hate ordering shoes online, but at that time, I had to save every penny I could.  And a few months later, I saved enough to buy a used couch and a chair at a thrift store.  One of my kids still has that chair, eight years after I bought it used.

The place was shaping up nicely.  And even if most of the furnishings belonged to the landlords, it felt like home.  It felt like my place.  I was comfortable there.  It was a good place to be while continuing my mental recovery.  It was less than 10 minutes to work and just 3 miles to my kids.  They could come hang out on the weekends and enjoy the pool, play games, watch TV, play tennis, or sit by the bay.  I was still mostly broke, both emotionally and financially, but I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I was struggling, but I had become determined to overcome it all.

At the end of the first year, I texted my landlord and ask if I needed to do a new lease.  The one I signed was for 1 year and that was coming up fast.  I would certainly understand an increase in rent.  I was already paying far less than anywhere else outside of renting a mobile home somewhere, and even many of those listed for more than I was paying.  And I knew they had talked about selling before I took the place.  Maybe they wanted to move forward with that.  The response I got floored me.  She asked if I wanted to pay more for rent.  Of course, I said no.  She said, “Well, let’s just do month to month with the current price until you decide to leave.”  That was the kind of wonderful people I was dealing with. 

Three and a half years I lived in that little two-bedroom, one bath condo on the bay.  For three and a half years I continued to recover, continued to write, continued to work, continued to be close to my kids.  It was a good time in my life in a lot of ways.  And without the landlords taking a chance on me and letting me move in, I don’t know if that three and a half year period would have been as helpful.  I’m not sure I would be where I am today without them.  I feel like their generosity and grace gave me a solid foothold on life that I desperately needed at that exact time. 

There is a long list of people who helped me when I was down and out back then.  And the grand majority of those people are people I am related to, or served in the military with, or have known on a personal level prior to being at an all-time low point in my life.  But my landlords helped me as a stranger, a risk, a man who was trying to keep from drowning in the tidal waves he had made for himself.  I told them when I moved out how much I appreciated them, but I don’t think they have any idea to what extent they truly helped me.  I seriously doubt I would be where I am now without their help.  I don’t know if my life would have had the opportunity to be as good as it is now without them unknowingly helping me get here.

Sometimes we do things for people and don’t think it’s a very big deal.  And it may never cross our minds again.  But to that person it might mean the world.  It might be life changing.  You never know.  Do good when you can.  Show grace when you can.  The smallest or easiest gesture can make a huge difference to someone else.  Debbie and Johnny’s kindness changed the course of my life for the better.  And I am forever grateful to them.

Thanks for stopping by today.  Don’t give up on yourself.  Something good is coming.  Good day and God bless.

Dave

The view.

The chair.