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| Jodi with her beloved Kati, who died in a car crash in 2017. |
Jodi Abt is a member of the Broadway Presbyterian Church and an active part of Faith in Action's current campaign to promote affordable housing. I post her heart-wrenching story, slightly edited, with her blessing.
In 2010, my 15 year old daughter and I lost everything we had. My husband, without warning, abandoned us. Months prior to his leaving, without my knowledge, he had stopped making our house and car payments and stopped paying our bills. As a result, my home was in foreclosure, my car was repossessed and all my debts were in arrears.
To top it off, he filed for personal bankruptcy, filed only his own taxes that year and filed for divorce. Kati and I would have been homeless had not my sister and brother-in-law taken us in. With what I was earning I was unable to find affordable housing, and my credit was destroyed as a result of my husband’s actions.
The only places in the area that offered emergency care or funding were Mercy House, First Step or the Salvation Army EmergencyShelter. At this time, their shelter was full and there were no funds available for families in an emergency situation, nor were any affordable housing programs in existence. I was making only a modest salary as a massage therapist. As a single mother with no child support, I still had to send my daughter to school and pay for all of her supplies and the basics a normal teenage girl requires.
In 2011, we found a house to rent and moved from my sister’s home. In 2012, we moved again because I could not afford the rent there any longer. So we found ourselves at the door of the Salvation Army emergency shelter, terrified and defeated, not knowing what to expect.
Inside was an incredibly diverse group of people, many with stories similar to ours. Kati and I were welcomed with opened arms. We learned that not all homeless people were drug addicts, alcoholics, criminals or lazy bums but for the most part people who were down on their luck and with nowhere else to go. There were hard working individuals and families where both parents worked to try to make ends meet. They were also on a waiting list for affordable housing, where it can take over a year before your name comes to the top of the list. Meanwhile shelters generally set limits as to how long you are permitted to remain there.
In 2013 I suffered a heart attack and had triple-bypass surgery. My cardiologists did not want me to live at the shelter after my surgery for obvious reasons, exposure to germs, etc. We went back to my sister’s home briefly to recuperate. After a month, I was put back into the hospital for another heart related problem.
It was during this time that Kati was forced to get us an apartment, on her own. She was advised by the Shelter Manager on who to contact and how to seek assistance. Through the help of Mercy House funds, she was able to get us a 3-bedroom apartment. It was too large, and more than I could afford, but it was the only place that was available in the area. To make matters worse, I was forced to retire at age 62 due to my poor health.
Kati was now attending college full-time and working part time to help me with finances. Yet we still struggled. Ultimately we moved back to the Salvation Army Shelter in 2014. This time I was able to obtain a position as a Housing Monitor in the Shelter, which was quite convenient.
Fast forward to 2017. We were now living in our car. From 2010 to 2017, I had a partial hysterectomy, triple bypass surgery, a gall bladder removal, and eye surgery, all while still trying to recover from the serious debt situation I was still in. And during that time I had also fallen and broken my back.
Kati and I were finally on a waiting list to receive Section 8 Housing. Previously, we had either been given the dates too late for Open Enrollment, or the Housing Authority did not have dates yet established for an open enrollment period. Somehow though, in February of 2017, our names got placed on that wonderful elusive list.
By 2017 we were living in our car, our “mobile home.” I was completely unable to work. Kati worked full-time and was a full-time college student.
On May 26, 2017, Kati and I went to visit my sister on her birthday. After leaving my sister’s home and grabbing a bite to eat, Kati and I headed back to Harrisonburg.
It was on this trip back to town that my life changed in an instant when we were hit head-on by a drunk driver. The driver who hit us burned alive in his mother’s vehicle. I was the only person to walk away from the wreckage.
Upon impact, I hit my head and was knocked unconscious, then awakened to the smell of smoke, opened my door, spitting out glass, plastic and dirt. I went around to Kati’s side of the car to get her out, but she was trapped in the car with our car's engine on her lap.
When I realized the severity of what had happened, I started screaming for help. Kati could only flutter her eyes and make moaning sounds as if trying to talk. Two ladies came running to our aid. They assured me that she would be fine and that she was responding to them. With that assurance and only for that reason, I agreed to go to the hospital. It was in the ambulance that I had learned of the death of the man who hit us. Before I had even been placed on the stretcher, though, I had to pray for him and offer forgiveness.
I did not learn of Katis’s fate until I had been seen by a doctor. Here I was, strapped to a backboard, unable to move, learning of the death of my child. I couldn’t scream, run around in a panic, tear at my hair, or hit the police officer who delivered this horrendous news. I could only lie there with tears streaming down my cheek.
Not only did I lose this incredible child of mine, who was only 22 at the time, I also lost my home. Where do I go now? The Salvation Army was out of the question and Mercy House was once again without funds. The Housing Authority is not equipped to handle emergencies. So, of course, I was back at my sister’s home.
After the crash, I was in a state of shock. I could no longer think clearly and would start a sentence and forget what I was saying after the third or fourth word. I forgot names and meanings of words. I could not convey any cohesive thoughts or carry on a conversation. I was no longer recognizable as the person I had been. I was upset and angry at myself and did not know what to do with my life.
My one saving grace was that I had the Lord to lean on. I felt His constant presence and had many a conversation with Him. Finally, after two weeks, I got the answer I had been praying for. It occurred to me that I should “trick my brain” by writing a letter to Kati every night before I went to sleep. I pretended that she was still a little girl at camp, or visiting Grandma. In my mind, I knew she would be coming home to me, hence the “trick” part, because I knew better.
This was such a comfort to me, though, as I wrote all of my emotions, fears, uncertainty about my future, the upheaval of my life without her, and how much my heart wrenched every moment at her loss. Most nights I closed with tear-stained pages. I did this every night for 18 months. I documented all of the events in my life, doctors visits, funeral arrangements, and how I got another vehicle on her birthday that year.
Once a letter was written, I never read it again, but I have every one I wrote to her in a 3-ring binder entitled “Kati’s Letters”. I thank God for that beautiful way of mourning her loss and feeling her presence. Day by day, life got a little more bearable and I realized that I faced a future on my own. I went to housing and altered my application to find living space for 1 person.
Finally in Spring of 2018 I received a letter from the Housing Authority asking about my continued interest in remaining on their waiting list. I responded to the letter stating that I still needed affordable housing, and that I was still interested. In the summer of that year I was interviewed for an apartment, but still not approved. It was not until October of 2018 that I was approved. By this time, I had turned 67, which I believe made my approval easier to obtain. I moved into my apartment in December of 2018, where I have been ever since.
You can see that it took nearly 2 years for me to get into a home I could afford. My story is typical, however, not everyone has family or friends willing or able to help them during this waiting period. I was blessed with a loving sister and brother-in-law who allowed me and Kati to disrupt their lives and routines.
There are many hard working people who make too much money to qualify for local and federal housing programs, but don’t earn enough to afford a home where they feel safe and comfortable. This is a travesty.
This time of year, many people sacrifice for others is an important expression of their faith. But giving up or sacrificing doesn’t just mean monetary gifts. Giving time and offering hospitality to others on a regular basis can do much to improve their quality of life.
Thank you for this opportunity to share my story.
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