Foreclosure...For Good?

As I sit here, finally writing this blog that I have been thinking about for several weeks now, I am completely overwhelmed. I am frozen with anxiety and uncertainty. You see, I am going to be moving in a few weeks. A move that I never expected or imagined would be happening in my life. I have not been able to pay my mortgage for over a year now and my house is in foreclosure. So, that’s where I am right now. But, I’d like to share a little bit about how I have gotten to this unimaginable place in my life.

When I was discharged from the Army in 2014, I felt like a failure. I was discharged basically because I had trouble meeting the ‘body image’ standards of the Army, also known as height/weight. But, I tried to keep reminding myself that I was a good nurse and being out of the Army would give me more freedom to do other things I wanted to do with my life. After a rocky start on the job search side of things, I found a great job doing what I loved: emergency, trauma, and forensic nursing. I even found a great house, even if it did require some work to make it what I ‘wanted’ it to be.

Over the next year I would work an average of 50 hours a week and attended grad school one weekend a month in Philly. Then, in March 2015, my whole life changed. My mom, my best friend, my whole world, went to see Jesus. And although I am so happy to know she is finally completely healed, it doesn’t negate the pain and emptiness in my heart. It was shortly after she died that things slowly started to unravel in my life.

I’ve suffered, no battled, anxiety and depression for most of my life. Some days I win the battle, other days I barely survive. Living in Germany when mom started getting sick did not help this internal battle I had. Shortly after being discharged from the military, I was awarded a disability rating from the VA. I felt like I was ‘stealing’ money from the tax payers. I didn’t do anything to deserve a check every month for something as silly as anxiety when I never even saw combat during my time in uniform. But, the next thing I knew, I was 35 and unable to hold down a full time job. I was ok for a while because of the disability checks, but then they stopped coming. Due to a technicality that is completely legit but a long story, the government chose this time to recoup the separation pay that I received as well when I was discharged. The monthly checks were enough to cover my mortgage, and they stopped showing up too.

I started having anxiety about going to work. I had anxiety about coworkers trying to sabotage me. I had anxiety about making mistakes. And, as a nurse, these are deadly combinations. Mistakes started happening and I started focusing on the mistakes, which only caused me to make more and more. Thankfully, nothing life-threatening, but enough that I lost the joy and confidence I had in my career. Thoughts of “maybe I’m not good enough” and “maybe they were right to award me a disability rating” flooded my mind day and night. I began to let my ‘disability’ define me. I began ‘living up to’ my disability label. And it spiraled out of control. Tack onto that a back injury that landed me in the ER a handful of times within only a few short months. I never expected medical and mental issues to prevent me from being able to work before I exited my 30’s.

It seemed the only times I felt happy were the times playing with the worship team and a new love of coaching. These things gave me purpose, even if I felt like I had no clue what I was doing. I discovered I loved Jr High aged kids. I started working as a substitute school nurse and even began pursuing my School Nurse Certification in hopes of landing a full time job at my alma mater where I was coaching. But, that didn’t happen, and I struggled to find motivation to pursue jobs elsewhere for fear of repeating the same vicious cycle I found myself in at my last hospital job. Needless-to-say, occasionally working as a substitute and coaching does not pay the bills and I had no savings to fall back on because I spent any extra money I had on mission trips throughout the world. (Another thing that brings me joy, but also isn’t cheap…) The money stopped coming in, but the bills didn’t.

The foreclosure letters began over a year ago. I tried to complete the ‘Loss Mitigation’ process with the mortgage company, but found it completely overwhelming and anxiety inducing. Every time I thought it was complete, they would ask for something else. The reality hit when I received the letter confirming the date for the Sheriff’s Sale. Upon reading that letter, my first thoughts were, “I am such a failure. I pretty much just suck at life.”

This past summer, I literally spent about two months completely unemployed. I had dipped my toes in a few options for nursing and even started working at Tractor Supply Company. Even though I had completed the graduate work for my school nurse certification, nothing felt right to pursue whole-heartedly. Que more negative self-talk. Am I just being lazy? Am I just giving in to fear? Am I allowing my illness to overcome me? I wanted to give up so many times this past year. But God…

Even though the nights were long, and oh so dark, I never stopped believing that God was, and STILL IS, writing a story through this particular season of my life. I even made comments to friends, “Even though life pretty much just sucks right now, I can’t wait to see the story God writes in the end.” Not going to lie, I said those words with my mouth, but didn’t always fully feel those words in my heart.

One thing I was able to do this summer since I didn’t have a job, was spend a week as a nurse at summer camp. The same camp I went to as a kid. Also, the same camp where my mom led me in prayer to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior. So, a place that holds absolutely no sentimental value to my heart. (Yes, this is a sarcastic statement intended to be humorous…)

I went into that week at camp praying to find time to sit and reflect with God; time to be still and listen. A devotion I was reading that week talked about being specific with our prayers to God. I sat down and journaled a prayer asking God to provide a new home for me, whether it was my little RV trailer, an apartment, a house; in Lancaster, PA or Wyoming or anywhere for that matter. And I prayed that God would give me peace about wherever this new home might be located.

If you’re reading this blog, you have probably noticed me mention that I have felt God calling me to share my story with anyone willing to listen over the last few years, in the very midst of my struggles. Within the first day of camp, I found myself sharing bits of my story, including the fact that my house is in foreclosure and that I am looking for a job. By the end of the week, I was sitting down with the camp director asking about a job that was open at the camp that included housing. A job not just for the summer, but year-round. And an actual 2-bedroom house located just across from the very cabins I slept in as a kid all those years.

I came home and spent some time fasting and praying about whether or not to pursue the job. (Even if it felt like it had already been offered to me…) I had already committed to coaching again this fall and really wanted to spend one more season with ‘my’ team before possibly leaving the area. I basically decided that if the job is still available by next spring/summer, I would take it then, not before. The following Sunday I was sitting in church and heard God speak to me. Not in the loud “This is God speaking” type way, but a soft tugging at my heart. “Hey, you know how you were fasting about this decision a few days ago? You remember how you basically came up with a decision because you were hungry and just wanted to have a decision so you could eat something? Well, that wasn’t the decision I had for you.” Ouch.

The following week, I went back to camp to attend the annual Staff Sing and help with registration day for the last week of camp for the summer. I had intentions of sitting down with the camp director to have a long discussion about the job: details of duties, living/housing arrangements, schedules, etc. But, I was so busy helping with registration, that the conversation didn’t occur until after 9pm and went more like this:

Me: Long story short, I am definitely interested in the job. If I apply for it, what is the probability I would be offered the job?

Camp Director: When can you start?

Well, ok then. I came home and started planning a timeline as to when I would be able to start moving to what will be my new home. Literally, days later, jobs started opening up; the ones I thought I had wanted and was literally just waiting for. But God. God is calling me to ministry and God is calling me to camp. IF I HADN’T GOTTEN TO A POINT IN MY LIFE WHERE I WAS LOSING MY HOUSE TO FORECLOSURE, I NEVER WOULD HAVE EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT OR ASKED ABOUT A JOB AT CAMP. Yes, I am ‘yelling’ that statement. I have no idea what this job has in store for me, but I can only imagine the great things God has planned. And, I want to shout it from the rooftops that MY GOD IS FAITHFUL. What the enemy has intended to destroy me (unemployment, foreclosure, etc), God is using to make something amazing, I can just feel it. The enemy doesn’t want me to go so he is tempting me with all these other job offers. But, my heart is at peace with camp…and the job COMES WITH A HOUSE. The very thing I specifically prayed to God for only weeks ago.

But, back to sitting here. Right now. In this moment. This is where I feel God calling me, but that won’t pack the boxes. I am at peace about moving, but that doesn’t move the furniture. I have a plan, but I know God has the final say. I am anxious and overwhelmed about the move; the actual packing and relocating of my belongings part. I am now battling the “when am I going to have time to pack?” and “I wish I had someone to help me” thoughts that are quite literally weighing me down. I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep. And now that school has started again, I am helping to coach field hockey, and trying to cover the full time nursing job that I thought I wanted until they can find a permanent replacement.

But God. Two very short, but very BIG words. There is finally a light at the end of a very long and very dark tunnel. God will continue to provide for me, I just have to ask.

Thank you to those who are still reading. Even though life feels like it is in complete turmoil at times, I pray the peace of Christ on each and every one of you. May the Lord make His face to shine upon you and bless you.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

“But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”