Lessons in adversity

Financially, a year after my husband’s death I hit bottom. Our propane tank was empty and as I arrived home from work one night, a notice hung on my front door like a noose around my neck. The power had been turned off.

With a heavy heart I cried out to God for help. I pulled myself together so that I could retrieve my then eight-year-old son, Chris, from a friend’s house. The gated community with well-manicured lawns, adorned gaudy Christmas paraphernalia, and the smell of cozy fires permeated the chilled air. As I rolled our rusty Chrysler into the driveway of the massive Tudor estate, it be...