Kassandra

Imagine eight little eyes looking at you as you pack all your worldly belongings into a U-Haul. Four little voices asking, “Mama, where are we going? Where will we sleep tonight?” And you not being able to give an answer, because you don’t know.

Imagine being turned down from job after job, even a cashier at a grocery, because you’re overqualified, and you wanting to scream, “Please just give me a chance! I have hungry children to feed.”

Imagine living in a shelter with many other families, no rooms of your own, no one but you willing to clean the disgusting bathroom – for months and months on end, with no hope in sight for a way out.

You don’t really know what the phrase “rock bottom” means until you hit it.

I used to work at a great job, until the company moved away. I didn’t want to move so I got a severance package and thought I’d find a new job. God knows I tried; but one thing after another cascaded upon me. I’d get a job interview, but one of the kids would get sick. One child developed asthma, another diabetes. I’d get more job interviews but would get no offers. I lost our health care. I discovered my youngest son, Josh, has autism. Soon we lost our home. It was like a slowly creeping nightmare coming true.

All the while, trying to be strong and positive, with eight little eyes watching you, sensing your fear, trying not to let your fear turn to panic.