The mailbox lid clinked shut, and the dog started barking at the window as the mailman walked down the sidewalk to the next house. My daughters, just barely four years old and two clamored at the door to “help” me get the mail. I tried to keep their fun spirit as I lifted them up over my pregnant belly to grab the envelopes, but inside I felt sick as their little hands ripped opened their “letter” and handed me the mortgage statement inside.
My husband had been at work all day, and wouldn’t be home until late. Yet still, each month seemed a little longer than the last, the bills seemed to come more frequently. Big life changes were headed our way.
The question in my mind was would we be able to do something drastic enough to make sure those changes were for the better?