Day Two, Sunday: Sacrifice

I just couldn't figure out how to tackle all of this.

Have you ever had someone tell you that "everything will look better in the morning"? Well, it didn't happen that way for me. The next morning I was hit with a new wave of apprehension. We had no idea if the house was solid enough to be worth saving. I had visions of it needing to be bulldozed and neither my parents nor my family had any money to build a house from the ground-up. I was slow to get moving and it was only made worse but what I would have to do that morning before we even got there.

I would have to talk to my Tai Chi class (I taught a free class in the park every Sunday) and tell them that I would be unable to teach for at least a few months and that if I continued teaching it would have to be moved to East Sacramento.  While my husband packed up kids and supplies into the car I rode a bike down to the park. I led the class in warm ups and forms but I cut the session short to give my news. The looks on their faces made my heart sink but I knew I was doing the right thing. One of my favorite students was not there that morning but when I jokingly asked if they knew of any contractors that would work for free one of my old Tai Chi buddies who helped teach classes told me that the same student that was not there was in fact a contractor. I felt a jolt of surprise and made a mental note to call that student later that day. As I was preparing to leave my buddy offered to keep the Tai Chi classes going in my stead. It was a bittersweet moment, to know that I had such friends and to know that I would be leaving them. I owed it to my family to try to make the 58th Street house work but it sure was not an easy sacrifice to make.

My husband clearing brush.

There would be so many more sacrifices on this adventure: my husband's bicycle racing would be on hold after he had worked so hard for the past two years and was in top form. We would be living in a much smaller home with a ton of work to do, probably for years to come. Instead of being walking distance to work he would now have to commute. Losing that precious time each day that we had been so happy to gain when we had originally moved to Folsom. We would be leaving neighbors that we had just gotten close to (I had just started up a neighborhood watch a little over a month ago when I thought we were going to be there for at least a couple more years!) and a beautiful, quiet court. And another move! Egads, I had so convinced myself we would be staying where we were for years (I had planted tulip bulbs in the front yard!). Yet I knew that despite all we would go through, we would survive as we always have, together as a family.

We made our way back down to Sacramento and really assessed our situation. No less overwhelming that it had been yesterday morning. Cleaning up the front had barely made a dent in the massive project that lay before us. We set to work clearing up the back of the property and as I worked I was finding that I had no stamina. My CFS was getting the better of me and I had used up most of my "juice" yesterday. I moved frustratingly slow and again began to wonder if this would all be worth it. What if we did all this work on the yard but the house wasn't viable? When I said this to my husband he told me at the very least we were helping my parents out by cleaning up the property. And so we resumed work.

I sent a text to my contractor-student and asked him if he would be willing to come out to take a look at the property. He was out of work, not even able to afford the gas to get out to East Sac, so we picked him up at the light rail station and offered him our last $20 in return for taking a look at the house and getting his opinion on whether or not it could be done, especially with our financial situation.

Laundry room falling apart.

As he looked through the house I could tell he knew a thing or two as he made observations that I knew were dead-on. He checked the supports and the weather and vandalism damage and said that a lot of stuff would have to be torn out but that the bones of the house itself were strong and well-built. He was very positive and hopeful and promised to help us as much as he could. He offered not to charge us but he was in an even tougher financial situation and a transplant from another state. Even though we didn’t have much money he needed something for his time and help. It brought into sharper focus that even if we could get a lot of materials donated there were still so many costs.

I ended up talking to a very good friend of mine and she and a friend of hers offered me great advice and suggestions and my friend's husband, also a contractor, offered to take a look as well and offered his help. Although I felt like I could trust my student I had only known him for a few months and he was new to California. I had known my friend's husband for many, many, many years and I trusted him as much as I would my husband so I felt a whole new level of relief knowing that we had the knowledge of not one but two contractors to help us navigate this adventure. Materials and other costs loomed large over our heads but at least we know knew that we wouldn't have costly mistakes from our own ignorance sucking away at precious time, funds and resources.

With my visit to my friend's home we came away with revelations that we had help and encouragement to blog about what we are doing and try to find help from others (kind of like an old fashioned barn-raising!) We again felt an uplift of hopefulness. Our hope was tempered by the enormity of the next task. Finding a way to get everything out of a house stuffed to the gills (ever seen that show Clean House?) with things my parents had gathered over the past 30+ years.

Junk everywhere.

We knew what we would have to ask of my parents and I felt the prospects were grim. Asking them to allow us to get rid of so much of their belongings was hard, particularly because they both came from very impoverished backgrounds. They kept everything.  But the reality was it was just the two of them now and they already had a two bedroom apartment stuffed to the gills. Everything still at the house had been abandoned for years and was not likely to be reclaimed. The answer was simple yet difficult to propose, a massive yard sale.

We hoped that my parents would allow us to use some of the proceeds from the yard sale towards buying building materials and tools, at the very least it would be a quick way to clear the stuff out of our way so we could start gutting the place. My parents were also in financial distress; they had already spent a lot of money helping us try to pay off our legal bills, helping us when we needed it without ever asking for a dime of it back. If there was any way that we could give them a portion of the money to help them pay off some of their debt, I felt that I owed them that. We knew we needed to schedule a yard sale right away but talking to my parents about what we hoped to do was insanely stressful. We called them and asked to visit them to give them an update and talk about next steps.

It was a tense meeting at first and I could tell that it was such a hard thing for my parents. I would not have blamed them one bit if they had told my husband and I to take a flying leap. I have no illusions that my parents are perfect but I was so thankful and proud of how they put their feelings and misgivings behind what would be best for the family. They were giving us so much, sacrificing for us yet again, making it possible for my family to move to the next step towards owning a home and finally finding somewhere to set down roots.

And so we begin planning the next phase: YARD SALE!

17 years ago, my oldest (now 19!) and I jumping in a leaf pile at the 58th Street house while my parents (behind us, sitting on the steps) watched and laughed.

LEARN MORE ABOUT WHAT WE ARE DOING AND SEE MORE PICTURES OF THE PROJECT AT OUR WEBSITE: WWW.GROVETRIBE.COM