Prayers for my Aunt

The last couple days have been hard on my extended family, and I’ve been trying to lend my hand in support.


It all started weeks ago when my aunt Teke decided to go to CA for the birth of her first grandchild (actually it started 9ish months ago, but … that’s ANOTHER story!).  She packed her stuff, figured out how to arrange things in her absence, and left Mike, her fourth husband, in charge of the house while she’s away.  This wasn’t the first time she’s done this, and I didn’t expect more than a little moping, a little bumming of money while finances are strained with living in separate places.  But BOY was I wrong.

Last week, Mike bummed some cans of a family friend, bummed some gas money … mostly what was expected.  Then Monday he called Bammy (and me, we happened to be in the same place) to tell her that he was applying for credit to get the front end of his truck fixed, and that he’d listed Bammy and Me as personal references.  I got the same call 30 seconds later.  Later I learned that he hadn’t qualified, had needed Bammy to co-sign for him, and that she had.  He, after all, wanted to “go see the baby and all” (which cheesed Bammy off because she WASN’T getting to go see the baby … and all).

Then, that night, we learned from Teke that he had spent the rent money (that was why he was borrowing money from us) on weed.  Supposedly he was trying to earn MORE money.  He’s a recovering addict (not so sure on the recovering part anymore) and supposedly figured he had the contacts to do that.  He hadn’t told Teke about borrowing money, or about getting the truck fixed, or about coming down to CA.  The stories just weren’t lining up.

Now it seems to be over.  He’s unfriended the whole family on Facebook (I was, however, smart enough to install an app that downloaded all the family photos that were attached to his Facebook account before that happened).  Teke is talking about the “big d” on her facebook, and the whole family is feeling caught in the middle.

Next week I fly out to CA, and will undoubtedly hear this whole mess rehashed again when I get there.  Pray for us.  We’ll survive, but it won’t be fun.


        aka: goofdad