Trish St.Hill

In life, we all go through something at some point – the loss of a loved one, a job, illness, or some type of tragedy. During any crisis, it is only human to feel overwhelmed. But someone once said, 10 percent of life is what happens to us; 90 percent is how we handle what happens to us. Do we stress endlessly, becoming bitter, or do we reach for the positives? Ask yourself this question: Who or what is my lifeline when I have a problem? Do I have ride-or-die people around me? If you can identify your lifelines and utilize them appreciatively, then most of your issues would be manageable.

Let me share a personal story and how I was able to persevere through one of the toughest times in my life. Ten years ago, I experienced an unexpected fire at my home just months after going through a divorce. The divorce was a decision I made, yet it brought its own set of stresses and emotions that were difficult to navigate. Compounding this with the aftermath of a fire that left me instantly homeless was nothing short of traumatizing. That feeling of uncertainty and fear invaded my life, but I knew I had to find a way forward. My kids were counting on me to be that Mama Bear they expect to pull us through this episode.

Our insurance company wanted to put us up at a hotel while they located temporary housing. However, having just suffered a tragedy, I thought it might be more comforting to stay with one of my siblings for a few days while we searched for a suitable house. I felt that staying at a hotel, relying on takeout food and living out of a suitcase would be far more stressful than being in a familiar environment, even if things were complicated.

This sibling was someone I brought to this country and who lived with us for years. We expected them to show kindness and support during this brief moment of transition. However, the experience turned out to be quite awkward. My kids were placed in a dark basement, which felt isolating and unwelcoming. While we couldn’t say she was overtly rude or cruel, there was a subtle sense of not being entirely wanted there, and it weighed on us. On the second day, one of my children looked at me and said, “Ma, we are clearly not wanted here.” I found this particularly painful because the house had six bedrooms, and we had seen her welcome non-relatives with open arms. Yet, here we were, relegated to a dark basement on couches.

Understanding the message behind our uncomfortable situation propelled me into action. I was out of there like a bat out of hell, determined to find us a place to live. With the help of another sibling, we were able to locate a new house within three days and moved in on the fourth day. During this tumultuous period, our neighbors and school community back home proved to be incredible sources of support. The principal and teachers were nothing short of fantastic, and our neighbors constantly checked in on us to see how we were doing. It filled my heart with gratitude to live in a community with such a big heart, and I will never forget the warmth and love that surrounded us.

The experience of adjusting to our new rental home was surprisingly beautiful. We met wonderful neighbors who had children my kids’ age, and we quickly learned what it meant to have supportive neighbors. Additionally, we were fortunate to have an excellent landlord who became a friend over time. My children, through it all, never once complained. They handled the upheaval with resilience that left me in awe.

We spent a year and a half in the rental, but eventually, our insurance reached its limit in covering the rental costs. Due to contractual issues, our original house was not completed, and we found ourselves in a tough situation without a fully functional kitchen and with no gas turned on. Our landlord, however, arranged for her contractor, whom she regularly employed for her rental properties, to complete our house. This turned out to be a true blessing.

Faced with the decision to either move in with relatives again or to occupy our unfinished house, my children surprised me with their response. They looked at me and said, “Ma, we don’t care how cold our house is or if we have to bathe out of a bucket, let’s go home.” Those words carried so much weight. When we arrived at our home, we were met with cheers from neighbors who slowed down to welcome us back. It was a heartwarming moment that reminded me we were never truly alone during this journey.

While the contractor did not specialize in kitchens, by the grace of God, my brother Junior, who is a cabinet maker and another one of my unwavering supports, worked tirelessly to install our kitchen. It took us a few months of buying takeout food and taking bucket baths until the construction was completed, but eventually, everything came together perfectly.

Looking back, that ordeal allowed me to clearly identify my ride-or-die crew—the support base that stood by me through thick and thin. Thankfully, I didn’t have to look far; they were all around me, ready to lend a hand whenever I needed it. I will never forget that experience. It not only showed me the strength and character of my kids but also highlighted the deep sense of community and the type of neighborhood I reside in. I wouldn’t trade it for any other place in the world.

Moreover, I had a true support system in my friends, who continually checked in on us and made an effort to take me out, helping to lift my spirits during such a trying time. I did have one sibling who stayed with us and helped us settle back in upon our return. However, the sibling who made us feel unwelcome she eventually went through her own traumatic situation. While it would have been easy to repay her unkindness in kind, I chose to show her grace instead. That experience taught me invaluable lessons about ingratitude, resilience, and the beauty of having a solid support system. The most beautiful thing is that they are right beside me, reminding me every day of the importance of love, compassion, and community in overcoming life’s challenges.