My younger sister, Lauren, and her husband, Scott, pulled up to my house in their 18-year-old car, their belongings piled high in the backseat. I took a deep breath and walked to the door to greet them, trying to push aside the worries that had besieged me since I’d agreed to let them move in.
“Could we stay with you for a little while?” Lauren had asked. “Until we get back on our feet?”
I’d known the question was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. A year earlier Scott had been laid off. He’d searched and searched for work but had come up empty. Although they didn’t have kids to support, they didn’t have much savings either. They could no longer afford the rent on their apartment.
It wasn’t like Lauren and I didn’t get along. We talked on the phone all the time. But we were opposites in terms of temperament. Lauren was chatty and outgoing. I was reserved. I was eight years older, the responsible big sister who got married and settled down.
Lauren was more of a free spirit. She had dreamed of becoming a singer and still performed sometimes. She filled up a room with her big personality.
I didn’t have room at my house for us each to retreat to our own personal space, especially with my son David having recently moved back in after splitting up with his wife and having trouble financially.
Could Lauren and I live under the same roof? We hadn’t since I had gotten married and moved out of our parents’ home…and that was almost 50 years ago.
I still lived in the two-bedroom house my husband, George, and I bought back when we were starting out. We’d raised three kids here. George had passed away 10 years earlier. I’d been lonely at first, but I’d come to accept being on my own, even like it. I led a quiet life, had a comfortable routine. I loved sitting with the paper and my coffee in the morning. I took my dog for walks, tended my rosebushes. I had art class on Tuesdays—oil painting. I helped edit a scuba diving magazine my oldest daughter and son-in-law publish. I also volunteered at a medical clinic.
I’d been careful financially and even though the recession hit hard here in California—you couldn’t turn on the news without hearing about the unemployment rate and foreclosures and businesses closing—I thought I would be okay.
Now hard times were knocking at my door anyway. And I had no choice but to open it. This was my sister, for heaven’s sake! I felt guilty for even hesitating.
“Lauren, Scott, come on in,” I said, throwing my front door wide. “Can I give you a hand with your things?”
They were partway up the walk, lugging two huge bundles of…tent fabric? What on earth?
“Thanks, we’ve got it,” Lauren said. “Can we put up these tents in your backyard? We can’t afford to rent a storage space for our stuff. Don’t worry, we’ll put down paving stones.”
I cringed. My lawn! “Well…okay,” I said. I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot by saying no.
Scott and Lauren trooped back and forth carrying clothes, dishes, linens and books. They stuffed everything into the tents. It occurred to me that we had never set a time limit on their stay. Well, there was no going back now.
“David has the spare bedroom,” I said. “I set you guys up in the den. It’s got its own door so you can have some privacy.”
“You’re a lifesaver, hon,” Lauren said.
David watched the move-in with apprehension. “One bathroom” was all he’d said when I broke the news to him. I hoped he’d come around. I hoped I’d come around.
The next morning everyone made a beeline for the bathroom. There were awkward glances and impatient sighs. By the time it was my turn the hot water had run out. Scott left for a job interview.
I tried sitting down with the paper, but Lauren sat down too. She started telling me about every job Scott had applied for recently. I knew talking helped her cope. All I wanted was to read my paper before my shift at the clinic. I went to get a second cup of coffee. The pot was empty.
That evening I settled onto the sofa to watch American Idol, my favorite TV show. Lauren wandered in and launched into a recap of her day.
“Scott’s interview went pretty well…but lots of people applied, so who knows….” I looked around for David. He sometimes watched with me, but he’d made himself scarce apparently. I sighed. I hadn’t had a quiet moment all day.
“Naturally the car’s acting up again,” she went on. “Scott’s out there working on it right now…” I turned off the TV. Lauren paused, looking anxious. I mentioned volunteering at the clinic that day.
“Wow, it’s wonderful you do that,” she replied, seeming grateful to change the subject. “How did you get involved?” I felt strange talking about myself. I didn’t do much of that, living alone and all. But soon we were chatting away. I looked up at the clock. Bedtime already!
The next morning we discussed a bathroom schedule. There still wasn’t enough hot water, but at least no one quarreled.
We decided to handle our own meals for the most part. But I didn’t want it to feel like a boarding house, so two or three times a week one person would cook dinner for everyone and we’d eat together. David, surprisingly, liked that idea. He and Scott began commiserating about job hunting.
A couple of days later I curled up on the sofa to read. Lauren came in and plopped down beside me. I closed my book with another sigh. To my surprise she didn’t launch into a tale of car woes, though at that very moment Scott was out in the driveway with his head under the hood.
“Do you mind if we pray together?” she said. “I could really use someone to pray with right now.”
Lauren was usually so upbeat it was easy to forget how much stress she was under. I nodded, wondering, When was the last time I’d prayed with someone in this house? Since George died?
Lauren lit a candle on the coffee table and we held hands. “Thank you, Lord, for Mary Lou letting us stay here,” she said. “But Scott needs work. Please help him find a job.”
My turn. I looked at Lauren. Worry was etched on her face. Suddenly it struck me that even though she and Scott had a roof over their heads, technically they were homeless.
I thought of all my wincing and sighing, my irritation over hot water and missed TV shows. A wave of guilt crashed over me, followed by a new feeling. A door seemed to open inside me. Love for my sister came rushing in.
“Thank you, Lord,” I said, “for bringing Scott and Lauren into this house. Help them to feel welcome here. Help me to welcome them and ease their burdens.”
We sat quietly a moment, holding hands. At the same moment we both said, “Amen.”
A few nights later I came home to a heavenly aroma. Lauren and Scott were making tamales.
“Join us!” cried Lauren. “It’s easy. Watch.” She showed me how to stuff and fold the cornhusks. David came in and Lauren put him to work too. Soon we were all talking and laughing over a delicious tamale dinner.
The next morning I sat with my coffee and paper. Something was different. Where was Lauren? I glanced out the window and saw her weeding my rosebushes. “Hon, you don’t have to do that,” I called out to her.
“It’s okay, I love gardening,” she said. “We didn’t have a yard at our apartment. This is great!”
One evening all four of us crowded onto the sofa to watch the news. “A new trend in this recession,” said the newscaster. “Out-of-work families are moving in with relatives to save money or just to keep a roof over their heads.”
“Hey, that’s us!” cried Lauren. There was a pause as the reality of what we were going through sank in. Then everyone laughed.
“We are the news,” David said. I felt a warm glow knowing the roof that had sheltered George and me and the kids was sheltering my family still. The room felt warm too. Warm with love and togetherness.
Life went on like that for months until one afternoon I came home from art class to find Lauren bursting with excitement. “Scott found a job! We can get our own place again.”
“That’s…wonderful,” I said, setting down my keys.
A few weeks later Lauren and Scott found an apartment. They packed up their stuff and took down their tents. Lauren gave me a big hug.
“You’ve been such a blessing,” she whispered. “We couldn’t have made it without you.” David and I waved as they drove away. I tried not to cry. Thank you, Lord, I prayed, for opening my heart to my sister.
These last nine months had been a blessing. What started out seeming insurmountable—hard times and my own worries—ended up bringing my sister and me closer than ever. There was always room for more love.
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