Midnight: BEFORE the Time Right Before the Dawn

December of 2009 was a pretty low point for our family. We had a drive thru espresso stand in downtown Austin and another in Dripping Springs, a rural suburb of Austin. Because both shops ran significantly in the red each month, Duane and I decided one or both of us needed to bring in an income. We were still living in a beautiful home in the upper-middle class Covered Bridge neighborhood, and rent was almost $2,500 per month (ouch), an amount we were comfortable with when moving to Texas considering it was close to what our mortgage was in Washington State.

Our financial burden was oppressive. It was squeezing and pressing us like a vice someone was turning relentlessly. Bills were coming in, old and new, and we were getting further and further behind. The business showed tremendous growth, month over month, so we continued to hang in the game. E-mails had gone back and forth between us and the landlords of our home, because it had become clear that we could no longer afford such luxury. Homes in Covered Bridge were rarely for rent, and sold quickly (at that time) when they came on the market. We pleaded with the property owners to put their house on the market for rent or sale. They asked us to work with them so we could stay. We were stressed, but hopeful.

December rolled around, and we could not make rent. Christmas was miserable and stressful. I didn't want to celebrate - in fact, I was making every attempt to just ignore it. I was working many hours, Duane worked relentlessly, and our poor kids were doing what they could to just emotionally survive. No one was functioning anywhere near what we were accustomed to - we were all in survival mode, and barely making even that.

Between bills, work, poor grade reports, and collectors calling us, we soaked in precious moments with friends and family.

I was working with our friend John at the time to launch his new business, Noble Noggin. His family was going through similar trauma, but on a much larger scale. Think of what we were going through - then add some zeros. The work we did on Noble Noggin was blended with an alpaca business that represented a herd of about 250 alpacas. We had 12 alpacas of our own living on John and his wife Shannon's ranch, so we knew very well that the alpaca market was as difficult, if not more so, than the destroyed real estate market we had all been so heavily invested in back home in Washington. Working in an environment of despair, wrought with stress and some moments of panic, we did the best we could to market and sell alpacas while building a new business.

This was a very dark time. It was like midnight - a few hours before we'd even approach the time BEFORE the dawn.

Christmas came late in 2009, when we had another first. Notice to show up for a court date for eviction on New Year's Eve. We showed up for court and waited as many people had their moment before the judge prior to our turn at it. Listening to the proceedings brought me to tears as elderly women, single moms, a disabled man cried because they had no place to live. A gracious and tender judge answered them with the law, but also with suggestions and resources that could help them find solutions. I loved that judge. Then it was our turn. The property manager represented the owners, and we asked for 10 days to move out. It seemed to be agreeable. However, a few days later (well, January 3), my son Alex was the first one home that afternoon to find a bright orange posting on the front door: move out in 24 hours.

For four days we lived with John and Shannon, over an hour away from the kids' schools, in Fredericksburg. We were thankful to have somewhere to go. John had a seminar for which I had been helping him plan, and I was producing. It was a draining and devastating time. We all felt as though we had been chewed up and spit out.

Fortunately, we had found a home to which we could move (and save over $1,000 per month in rent and expenses). It didn't have the pool, or the beauty, or really anything I liked, but it did have 4 bedrooms and a music room. It also had a huge, fenced yard. The owner didn't flinch when we told him of our eviction and terrible credit, was agreeable to our three dogs, and didn't charge more than first month's and a deposit for us to move in. They got out as soon as they could, and we were only "homeless" for 4 days. Although, we could hardly be considered homeless when we were put up in a friend's 10,000 square foot home.

During that time, we were down to one car, working two shops, another job in Fredericksburg, and had three kids to get to school. My mom blessed us with the use of her car.

With the help of the church family at the church we were attending, we were able to move in quickly once the house became available. As much as I appreciated having a place to live, I cried for two weeks any time I thought about where I was living. Why??? I don't know. I've lived in much worse and been much happier. I really hated that house, but I appreciated it. I kept reminding myself of the blessing it was, and felt horribly guilty over what seemed to be my lack of appreciation. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to hate the house. But I did - really and truly.

Back to work we went. In the red still, but working as hard as one family could work. A new year. Wow. What a new year. Sadly, it seemed to only be getting darker.