"I thought I was on the road seeing clearly..."

The song, "Night of My Travail" captures a moment in my life when I hit bottom in terms of despair and desperation and experienced a "dark night of the soul". It was 2003. Being a high tech professional in the Bay Area, I'd got a bit singed in the Dot Bomb implosion of 2000 and managed to float along with another start up until 2002 when that also dried up. By spring 2003, I was out of work, out of money and out of options. Everything that had worked well for me over the previous decade was gone. Hiring was essentially dried up. I was either over qualified or without enough specific domain experience for any of the openings that I interviewed for.

At home, my wife and I struggled to come up with rent, cancel or postpone most of our current services or debt and raise our two kids. I had no health insurance as the company I'd worked for dissolved completely and there was no COBRA option. The only money coming in during this time came from a combination of music gigs, short term, under market software contracts or my wife's acting or modeling assignments. At key moments, we would also receive, mostly anonymous donations from friends, acquaintances, angels and other divine-type beings who'd leave checks or grocery cards under our door step or slyly slipped into our pockets. In spite of these encouragements, I personally was defeated, buried in a sense of self pity and inadequacy as I could not provide for my family. In this frame of mind, I found myself unable to get out of bed, at times distancing myself from my wife and on the road to giving up completely.

I remember one morning when my daughter was sick with a very high fever. My wife was doing everything to keep her fever down but it wouldn't give and my daughter was making a noise that sounded like a death pant. We scraped up enough change for me to run to the store to pick up Tylenol. On the way there, I lost it. I'd been depressed previously and had spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. But this was different. My child's life appeared to be at risk. That morning it felt as though my stomach had been yanked out my  body. I had been a man of meek, yet relatively persistent faith. In this moment, I felt like I was completely alone in the universe. Did I pray? Oh yeah, I prayed, but my prayers felt dead.

A little while later, I got the Tylenol home, we administered it and thankfully, a few hours later, her fever started to get under control. A few weeks later we began to learn about County Hospital services and California laws that provide all children in the state with health insurance (see the resources below). A few months later, I managed to get enough contract work to get us back on our feet. Eventually, we were fortunate to see things turn around for us.

I'd never recorded "Night of My Travail" with my band. When the latest economic crisis hit in 2008, I thought maybe I should pull it out and record it somewhere. Perhaps it could be comforting or cathartic to someone else. In June 2009 I experienced that stomach sucked out of the body pain again as my daughter contracted viral encephalitis and was literally fighting for her life. I've already written a bit about this in my previous blog, "Awakenings, colors and hope - What Glimmer is about". This was another crisis of faith, another challenge to our family's perseverance and another obstacle and threat to our marriage.

Coming through these trials, I wish I could say that I have more answers than questions. But the truth is, we're still walking through my daughter's recovery and only starting to surface much of the damage that has been done as a result of these challenging times. Damage such as the effects of trauma on a family, the dangers of medication's side effects on a survivor and fatigue associated with long term recovery for all involved. The voice in the song is not a voice of guidance but one of questions. All he knows is that he's lost and in dire need of encouragement and guidance. In our travels over the last year, we have met other individuals and families that are similarly struggling to care for sick, loved ones, who are drowning in their own, personal, economic crisis or who are simply without direction, hope or faith.  We are all asking questions, looking to find our way through a wilderness that doesn't seem to reveal a horizon we can walk towards with confidence and finality. There are no easy answers. But, I believe, there is hope and life in the asking of questions. I believe that someday there will be answers. Until then, the zombie cave will have to do.

Here are the lyrics to "Night of My Travail":

Tonight I'm crying out for some help.
I am calling from this place for some blessed assurance.
Oh my God please don't turn your face away.
In this night of my travail is your peace on its way?

I don't know how things turned out this way.
I thought I was on the road seeing clearly.
Now I'm lost and I feel so far away.
In this night of my travail does your light still point the way?

Tonight I'm reaching out to feed my soul.
I am aware of my starvation and I need relief.
Oh my God, please don't let me get in the way.
In this night of my travail will you hear this sinner pray?


Here are a couple of helpful resources for children in California who need health insurance:

• California Healthy Families (SCHIP)
• Health Consumer Alliance

 Zombie out!