Four Crying Out Loud

Six months ago, our four person family was living in a one bedroom apartment.  We had been there for a year, waiting for our home to sell and to find and purchase a new one.  We celebrated every miserable holiday inside those walls.  Our bedroom was the dining room.  Our children shared a bedroom, my son sleeping on an army cot to save space.  We ate on tv trays.  We could hear every step that the neighbors upstairs took.  We heard every cry  and every argument within their family.  And they heard ours.  It was dismal.  Hands down, it was the lowest point of our lives. I don't think a day went by that we did not feel sorry for ourselves.  Poor us.  We don't deserve this.  We are so  above this.  What the hell are we doing in Section 8 housing?  I remember asking myself, "What have we become?"    I had so much anger toward God.  Driving in my car I would look up and cry out, "Why are you punishing us?  Haven't we been through enough?  Can you not see

You startled me.  When I turned to walk up the parking garage stairway and saw you lying over in the corner, you startled me.  You didn't mean to, I know.  It's just that I'm not used to seeing anything over in that corner of the Washington Park Garage , let alone a body.   I took a few steps forward and my hand took hold of the stair rail as if to begin my ascent.  But I couldn't.  I had to pause for a moment to get a good look at you.  You were lying on your stomach, using your bag as a pillow.  My body took a chill when I thought of yours pressed against the cold, cold concrete.  Your coat was decorated with black scuff marks, dirt, and stains.  It wasn't a proper winter coat. As one would do for a cranky toddler, I began to rummage through my purse looking for something, anything, to give you.  I cupped the contents of the bottom of my purse for anything packaged, edible.  I sifted through the lip gloss, pens, and grocery store receipts.  I was only able to