Making Room

The last time we wrote, we left you at a hard place. Brian, Lucy’s father, was in and out of the hospital, and we were searching and praying for somewhere that would take him into recovery. We told you honestly that we didn’t know how the chapter would end.

Here is the update we have been longing to send: Brian has completed detox, and he is now in rehab.

We’re praying now for the next door to open, a spot in a nine-month program called The Men of Nehemiah, a “rebuild your life” program that would be exactly what he needs, if he’s willing to walk through it. Would you pray with us that he stays open to it?

A month ago we asked you to pray that Brian would find a way in. He did. Thank you for standing in that gap with us.

While her father gets well, Lucy gets to work

Lucy has not slowed down. She’s picked up two jobs, washing dishes about five hours a day, and cleaning rooms at a local bed and breakfast a few afternoons a week. She’s twenty years old and, for the first time in her life, building something of her own. If these jobs turn out to be everything they promise, she could bring home around $1,200 a month. For a girl who has never had steady ground under her, that number is nothing short of a miracle.

We want to be honest with you about the next part, because it’s easy to misread. When Lucy and Brian first came to us, the plan was for them to stay in our guest house just two nights, long enough for Lisa to drive Lucy to the next town over to take her driver’s test. Then Brian’s illness delayed things a week, and then Lucy’s dog had a litter of six puppies. You can’t raise six puppies out of a van, so we extended the stay six weeks. Eight weeks later, every puppy has a home, Lucy has her license and two jobs, and it’s time for the next step.

That next step was always the goal: independent living. So we’re gently moving Lucy out of the guest house and, for now, into our barndominium while we help her find her footing. It’s a way to take the temporary nest away so a young bird will use its wings. She isn’t losing her place with us; she’s being nudged to build a life she can stand on herself. We’re helping her find an affordable room to rent, putting her on the list for the subsidized apartments here in Glen Rose, and working out a new home for her beloved German Shepherd, since a rented room won’t have space for a big dog. None of that is easy for her. All of it is forward.

And the timing has a grace to it. The guest house Lucy is stepping out of is being made ready for a single mom, we’ll call her Jennifer, and her two young children, who need it now. One family moves toward its own feet, and the same four walls open up to shelter the next.

The part that never makes the highlight reel

I want to tell you about the side of this work you don’t usually see.

When you’ve fallen through the cracks, when you’ve lived your whole life in deficit, never with a dollar or a day to spare, the world is full of tripwires the rest of us never notice. This month Lucy opened the mail and found a bill from the tollway. She had no idea what it was; she’d never gotten mail like that in her life. Pulling that one thread flushed out an old ticket and a suspended license she hadn’t understood she had. She has never owned a car, never had a computer, never had an email address.

None of it is dramatic. All of it is exactly the kind of thing that quietly sinks a person who has no margin. So Lisa sat down with her, helped her get a court date, found out what it will cost, and we’re walking her through it step by step.

That is the whole heart of River Rose. Not a one-time rescue, but the margin, the steadiness, and the know-how you and I take for granted to help someone navigate the maze, so that instead of falling further behind, they finally start building a little momentum.

Thank you for carrying us through

Underneath these victories lies the kind of unglamorous, gritty effort that never makes the highlight reel. We’ve been navigating a hidden leak from a mini-split in the barndominium that required a wall to be torn down and rebuilt, and a car requiring a new window, working taillights, and a complete interior overhaul. It took a village of donated parts and dedicated labor from our extended River Rose family to make it road-worthy again. Even now, we are meticulously clearing fleas from the guest house to ensure it’s a safe sanctuary for Jennifer’s children. These are the quiet, unplanned costs of making room for real people in the middle of a crisis.

And here’s the best part I get to report: because of your generosity, we’ve been able to meet them. Some wonderful gifts arrived at exactly the right moment. You carried us through a hard stretch, and we don’t take it for granted.

Coming up this Friday, the very same barndominium will open its doors to a gathering of neighbors. These are the folks leading the charge to Protect the Paluxy Valley and the ancient dinosaur-track land that makes our backyard so special. It serves as a gentle reminder of the many lives and causes this small patch of earth supports, and the delicate balance required to keep it all moving forward.

Where we are

We’re not at the end of Lucy and Brian’s story. We’re somewhere in the hopeful middle, the part where quiet, faithful work slowly starts to pay off. A special thanks to those who signed up to give monthly. Knowing our monthly floor lets us know what we can commit to.

We’ll keep you updated. That’s a promise.

In partnership,

Rex and Lisa
River Rose

It is all hands on deck getting ready for Friday. Lucy shared the second mini-split is now leaking. I smiled and said, "Of course, it fits the script, and we'll get to see Shawn again."

P.S. A month ago we asked you to pray that Brian would find a way into recovery. He walked through the door. Never doubt that your prayers and your partnership move real things in real people’s lives. Thank you for being part of the story.