After my divorce, it felt as though my entire world had fallen apart. In what seemed like a matter of months, I had lost the future I had imagined, my marriage, and much of the financial stability I once relied on. I was living in a small apartment with only a few personal belongings, including two bags of clothes, an aging phone that barely worked, and an antique necklace my grandmother, Ellen, had given me years before. It was one of the few possessions I treasured beyond its monetary value because it reminded me of her kindness and strength.
To make ends meet, I worked long hours at a neighborhood diner. Every paycheck disappeared almost immediately into rent, groceries, transportation, and utility bills. There was never enough left over to build savings or prepare for unexpected expenses. Even so, I tried to remain hopeful. I reminded myself every morning that difficult seasons eventually pass, even when the future feels uncertain.
One evening, after finishing a late shift, I returned home to find an eviction notice attached to my apartment door. My heart sank as I read the deadline. I had already borrowed what I could, cut every unnecessary expense, and taken on extra work whenever possible. There were no more options left.
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