Foreclosed... But Not Forsaken

Just before dark, we had finally achieved a pathetic, wrapped around, clamped together, bunched up, and staked down series of tarps that was mostly keeping out the rain, so we called it “good enough”.  It was hideous.  And I could barely stand to look at it.  Initially, when I was at the RV and on the inside of the blue shroud, I didn’t think about it too much, probably because I was continually moving things around out of the way.  But every time I was away for any reason, like going to church or going to the store, and upon my return, I just cringed as soon as I laid my eyes on it.  It was like a giant blue elephant, or a big circus tent.  It just screamed “Tent City!” and sometimes it screamed “Destitute!” or “Homeless!”  It was the ugliest thing I ever saw and I had to accept it because we had no choice.

As if it weren’t bad enough to endure the constant visual assault, the wicked things had to be constantly modified or re-configured, re-hung, re-staked, tightened down, or pulled together.  Not just a few times, mind you, but several times over.  Every time the wind shifted or every time the wind gusted.  Every time the rain poured harder or every time the clamps slipped off the rain-slick tarps.  Every time we tripped on them and pulled them loose, or every time we forgot which one was the door.

If you’ve ever seen the movie “As Good As It Gets”, there is a restaurant scene where Jack Nicholson is telling Helen Hunt how much he hates pills, and he makes the point that he is using the word “hate” with “pills”.  That’s what happened between me and the tarps.  I hated them.  And I hated that I felt this “hate” inside of me about anything at all, let alone something as generic as a tarp.  How was it possible that a person could develop an emotional response to a tarp?  I felt ridiculous being so riled up about them all the time.  It was a constant battle inside of me to try not to think about them, let alone react to them.  I wish I had a way to know how many times I prayed to God to ask Him to help me cope and deal with the intensity of my anguish!  “There are worse things in this world!” I would tell myself, but sometimes it didn’t seem like there were.  I lost count of the number of times that I asked God to forgive me for being so ungrateful.  The devil doesn’t have horns and wear a red cape; he has clamps and wears a blue tarp.