It’s been a week! One week since we were evacuated from our wheely house to a hotel. One week since our life changed dramatically. One week since we thanked God that we were safe, unharmed and all our things were untouched.
What a week!
We have an ocean view at the Hilton Garden Inn in Orange Beach AL.
Early on, we realized we didn’t have enough space for the things we brought on the fly, let alone all the things we added throughout the week. Bruce swiped one of the rolling carts from the entrance, it’s become a de facto closet for us.
He has an awesome workspace, even enough for the printer. We’ve maxed out our fridge, added snacks above the microwave, and picked up a better coffee maker. The hotel maker only does a ‘cuppa’ (one of the other guests used that word) and ours makes full mugs. The hotel supplies coffee pods, but we added our own to keep the pipeline flowing. The shelves and drawers are loaded up with as much as they can hold.
And the bathroom…
Thank the Lord for counter space! All our normally hidden coping meds are on display. It’s mildly embarrassing.
The maids have no idea where to start.
Milo spends a lot of time in his crate. And if not in his crate he’s by our side asking for attention. Poor guy! He’s been juggled so many times, to so many places. Sleep is his recovery act and he does a lot of it.
Our time here will end on March 1, then we’ll move to a furnished apartment for a month, longer if needed. It all depends on what our insurance decides. Repair or replace is the big question.
Speaking of insurance. I had an accidental meeting, with the other family’s adjuster last Wednesday. What a kind, caring and thoughtful man! Both of the RV’s have the same insurer, so who pays for what is a given. They are leaning toward replacement for us. Roof, side, tires, electrical and insulation are all toast. If it’s repaired it will likely never be the same.
It was a HUGE fire.
He gave me hope about the future. We’d had some mixed messages from our case handler about our coverage. It sent us into a mental tailspin for a couple of days. But he reassured me that our coverage was comprehensive, and that we will be able to come out of this somewhat restored.
Phew!
In the meantime we started doing the things we could do. Saturday we began the packing process. We had amazing helpers! A couple of the quilters and their husbands joined us, making the entire process fly by! They also donated funds and some gift cards, to help us out. When I thanked them saying, ‘you hardly know us’, I was told that when you present quilters with a problem, they find ways to solve it.
You gotta love quilters!
Today a pod was delivered to our site. It seemed the easiest way to store everything until we have a new home.
We’ve also done some shopping for another RV. After a couple of dealership visits, we came to the conclusion that we really want to replace what we already have. We had specific reasons for choosing it and they haven’t changed. Fortunately the newer model has changed up the laundry situation, so it’s out of the clothes closet.
It’s the little things when you live in 400 sq ft.
There’s a phrase that gets tossed around when things like this happen. It was used when we had our car accident and it’s fitting for this situation. It’s actually a question,
What will make you whole again?
It’s a sobering question. So many things can’t be returned to you when a disaster strikes. All the comfort of “at least you’re alive” doesn’t negate the turmoil that life hands you when it hits. You’re alive, but you face a daily dose of life as it now exists. Temporary, unsettled, uncomfortable, insecure, frustrating. Often, it feels impossible.
Daily, we deal with the consequences of this disaster. Make phone calls to the various warranty holders, who never return calls. Deal with the bank and insurance company. Cancel reservations for April. And Bruce still works full time while this is going on.
So, what will make us whole?
A new wheely house is a starting point. Unfortunately we’ll never recover the days spent in relief housing, or the inconvenience of living without our own home. The mental turmoil, grief and fear, about the uncertainty over the future won’t magically disappear. And the stresses over decisions, choices and financial burdens aren’t easily overcome. Sleeplessness is common.
Enter faith…
I can’t imagine going through this, without the foundation of faith that has sustained us throughout our lives. Simply knowing that a loving God is caring for us, orchestrating all the details, finding us the exact thing we need, when we need it gives me hope, comfort and peace. Providing compassion from people who follow and care about us, and even humor at times is invaluable. And though I’m not ready to embrace this truth, I know that one day this will benefit someone else…
That’s wholeness