Mumbling Mommy
My daughter in 2009; photo by Jacob Langston

In a heart-wrenching tale of the current state of the economy and its effect on families, the Department of Children and Family services in the greater Orlando area released a “call to action” statement on Friday about the shockingly high number of homeless children in Orange, Seminole and Osceola counties. It is predicted that 10,000 children alone will be classifed as “homeless” by the summer of 2012 — up a whopping 79 percent since 2009.

If you do not live in Central Florida, you may be saying, “Orlando? Isn’t that where Disney World is? The happiest place on earth?” Well, your geography is spot on. The irony is that one of the single largest employers in the state offers most of its employees low paying positions that do not accurately reflect the cost of living. It is impossible to support a family on one or even two average Disney theme-park salaries.

It is not all Disney’s fault, of course. It is not the fault of any one business, person or place. According to a story by my friend Kate Santich of the Orlando Sentinel, the very organizations designed to prevent families from winding up with no home are out of money. With no resources, the problem is snowballing; the end result, an estimated 10,000 children with no place to call “home” by the end of this school year.

How close are any of us, at any given moment, to homelessness?

One pink slip? One car accident that requires recovery time past the disability pay that our job offers? One missed paycheck?

Who would you call if you found your family with no roof over its head?

The “homeless” of 2012 do not fit the stereotypical mold that the rest of us would like to believe they do. They are not all dirty, or drug addicts, or “lazy” people who just need to find a job. For many of the homeless, finding a job — any job — would be welcome. These are working class folks, middle class families, who have been hit hard by layoffs, bad home loans and other tough life circumstances.

The faces of these families are not angry or broken. They are hopeful — a sign that they plan to improve life for their children just as soon as they find a foothold. These faces could just as easily be your family. The homeless families that I read about in articles by Kate and others could be me and my family. And almost were…

Let me explain.

I found myself with nowhere to live back in 2009. It was a shortlived experience and I did not have to spend even one night in a shelter with my one-year-old daughter. This was not because I was “better” than these shelters or smart enough to outsmart my circumstances. It was simply because I was lucky and had a place to go.

I was a single mom at the time. I was working full time. I had health insurance. I had affordable daycare for my daughter and worked from home several days per week. I bargain shopped for groceries, was blessed to be given barely-worn hand-me-downs for my daughter and spent time socializing at local parks and other free spots. Despite all of this, I could not afford the small apartment that I was renting in Altamonte Springs. I fell behind one month on rent. I clawed my way back to being current. I fell behind a few months later and at the beginning of the next month, I got a three-day notice for payment in full. I tried to take money from my 401K plan (typically takes at least five days to receive the money) and was evicted in the process.

Before receiving my eviction notice, I walked with my daughter to the leasing office to show the property manager proof that the money was on the way. She told me that she could stop the sheriff’s office from putting the notice of eviction on my door, but not until I had the money. She had already called and guessed that I had anywhere from one to three days until it was posted. Once the notice had gone up, there would be nothing that she could do.

By the time my little toddler and I made it back to our apartment, the notice had been taped to my door. I had twenty-four hours to be out. Nothing was packed and I had nowhere to go. I knew my friend Judy would let us crash there but that was only a temporary fix. What was I going to do with all my stuff? Would I be able to find another place that would let us live there? How could I be such a disappointment to my daughter? My job at the core was to feed her and provide shelter and I had failed. I looked around the apartment, our first apartment as a family, and I wept.

Once the sobbing had subsided, I switched into strategic mode. I needed somewhere to go, and fast. I dreaded having to admit my situation to anyone. I could have asked my parents for the money weeks earlier, but my pride had gotten in the way. What would I do now?

I ended up calling my daughter’s grandparents on the paternal side. My daughter’s father was not involved in our lives on any level, but once his parents had heard that a granddaughter was on the way, they made it a point to be involved. I was always open about them being a part of my daughter’s life but was uncomfortable at first when they were nice to me. I did not need a pity party or them feeling like they needed to “make up” for their son’s actions. As time went on, however, I grew to love them and allow myself to be accepted as one of the family. This was especially nice since my own family lived over one thousand miles away.

On that day, I spoke with my daughter’s grandfather, now deceased. Through my sobbing and wailing, he remained calm. He let me speak my mind. He listened to me try to defend my situation. He let me berate myself and call myself a terrible mother. When I stopped to catch my breath, he finally spoke up.

“Here is what you need to do. Get a U-haul. Get your stuff here, to our house. Stay here, you and the baby, until you figure out where to go next. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. Never, never feel sorry for yourself, do you understand?”

I was still sobbing, but I shook my head. I hung up and did as he had directed. I had help moving my things from the few friends I was brave enough to tell. One friend showed up that night with her husband and two stepchildren. I was surprised to see the kids, figuring she would not want them to see my bad example. I asked her, “What did you tell the kids?” and she answered “The truth. It happens and they need to understand that.”

I slept one last night in our home, my daughter with me in bed. In the morning, I drove my car and an ex-boyfriend drove my U-haul to our temporary spot. I went in to work the next day, and acted like nothing had happened. A short time later, I was offered a job in Chicago with moving assistance. My daughter and I lived with her grandparents until we moved to the Windy City, able to afford a downtown apartment in one of the costliest places to live in the U.S. We had pulled ourselves back up by our bootstraps. But not without a lot of help and understanding.

This is the first time I’ve told this story. I tell it now for several reasons. The first is that I am grateful and telling a story about the way people come to your rescue with kindness and genorosity is always a story worth telling. The second reason is because I know the shame and belittlement that accompanies having a home taken away, especially when there are children involved. It can be tough road to recovery.

It would be fine and dandy if every homeless family could just pull itself back up by its bootstraps. Most of us would like to believe that is the way that it should be and that each family is solely responsible for its lot in life. The reality, however, is that taking care of other people, even strangers, is what we are supposed to do. We should not judge or roll our eyes when we hear the numbers of people — of children, especially — who do not have a place a live. We should say, “How do I help?” and be thankful for our own blessings.

In a famous passage in the New Testament Jesus explains the importance of people being kind and compassionate towards each other. In Matthew 25, he says:

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
40 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Whether you follow the teachings of Jesus or not, there is a universal truth in this passage. Being kind is not always easy, or the popular thing to do. It is always the right thing, however.

Who would you call if you found your family with no roof over its head?

If you would like to learn more about ways that you can help with the homeless children of Central Florida, please visit the following websites:

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Category: Life Changes

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