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A Firm Foundation: Chapter 2

Writer's picture: Kory MerenessKory Mereness

It was going to take 39 piers to save our home, our finances, our family. I peered down at a foundation inspector’s blueprint which marked the placement of every steel cylinder that would have to be pneumatically jacked under the foundation of our home. My wife and I caught each other's gaze from across the table, shaken, confused, and lost. We’d put off this repair for years, and our home was at the point of no return, it had to be fixed NOW. We knew we couldn’t do this. We just knew we had to. If you haven’t yet read part one of the story, hit the rewind button right now and catch up on the original.

…Now that you’ve done that, on with the show!

The Price is Right…?

We’d been given a bid for $118,000 by the first company, then a second company inspected and returned a bid of around $96,000. We didn’t like their project as much, but it felt non-negotiable to pursue the cheaper offer. Well, company A caught wind that they were on track to lose this whale project to company B and called us. They revisited our project and had some other analysts review it. They did what they could to minimize the steel piers that would be driven beneath the home, and also “applied a special offer” (they’re not starting you off with their best offer, so this is how they negotiate), because they were entering their slower winter season. They came back with an offer of $68,000. Still impossible for us, but from where we’d been on the original bids, we felt like we had to find a way to move this ball forward. My wife and I put our heads together and sorted through every option we could think of, but there was no way we would generate tens of thousands by applying some extra elbow grease. Instead, and with much deliberation, we made the pride-swallowing decision to start a GoFundMe and ask others for help.

We reviewed a lot of GFM’s before pulling the trigger on this, and it left us feeling sort of on an island because most people seem to reserve this for circumstances like cancer treatments or unexpected funeral arrangements. Our GFM seemed to only emphasize the self-infliction of our wound. “Help us fund the repair of our house that we were stupid enough to buy!” That really tugs at the ol’ heartstrings, doesn’t it? This is why it was such an endeavor of humility for us. We were asking for help with something that it seemed every homeowner around us was competent to handle on their own. We found that by refinancing our home and adding seven years of equity to our savings account, we would only need $35,000 in gifts. Ha! Only. We started a GFM asking for that amount and added it to our Facebook pages. Then we held our breath.

Go Fund Yourself

Seeing thousand-dollar gifts come in from people who have a seemingly nominal connection to you is an incredibly humbling feeling. You’re realizing that it is costly for them to give this gift, and yet it must represent a real sense of purpose for them to participate in something that is such a great need for another. Many small gifts also added up to a great sum, and through GFM we were able to review so many names of people--some we knew well, some we used to know, and some who had seen a friend share this and just felt compassion for a stranger. It still touches our hearts in the deepest way to reflect on the willingness of others to throw in with us without hesitation.

After two days our GoFundMe was sitting at about $8000 and I felt torn. Part of me felt amazing about this. How many times have you made $8000 in two work days? The other part of me felt like we still had a long way to go, and doubted.


What if we already exhausted the major donors we would encounter and now only see a small trickle coming into the fund for the next couple of weeks? It felt so wrong to experience any emotions of doubt after receiving these incredible gifts, but we were in such uncharted territory and had no knowledge of how these things unfold. It all still felt so big. And that's when my phone rang.

It's Not Enough

I was working in my office at the church, and I picked up to hear a familiar voice. He and his wife had just heard about our situation from a friend and then found our video on Facebook. They were shocked to discover that our situation was much worse than they had known, and he started by expressing his regret that we were in this situation. "Do you plan to stay in your home?" he asked.


This gave me an indication of the kind of conversation we were really having, and it seemed to me that he was considering donating to the cause but maybe wanted to know whether we had some motives not yet disclosed. So I told him the truth. I told him I love my job and the church where I pastor, I love Oregon, and I've always wanted to love my house, but never been allowed to! I wanted to stay. He responded that all sounded good, that he wasn't trying to initiate some sort of verbal contract, just that he wanted to understand if my heart was in it to stay in that home. Then he told me that he and his wife were really concerned about our situation, had watched our video, and felt like we weren’t asking for enough--a thought that had never crossed my mind. But, he insisted. "My wife and I have decided to give you $30,000." …… "Hello? Are you still there?" The first words I choked out were a verbal pinch to myself to verify the dream: "Did you say 3,000? Or 30,000?" Thirty. The crack in my emotional dam gave way. I struggled, blubbered, and practically spat through tears to try and say thank you in some sort of way that made sense. Nothing seemed adequate. My guardian angel could tell I was in no condition to discuss this now, but he instructed me before letting me go, “Leave your GoFundMe open. This isn’t part of it. God put me on this earth to be generous with others, but other people want to help you. Let them.” I agreed, and then he let me off the line to go cry under my desk where no one could see me through the window in my office’s door. You know those moments when you look at a massive pile of grocery bags in your trunk and tell yourself you can get these into the kitchen all in one trip? Next thing you know, plastic straps are threatening to sunder the tendons in your elbow, and you're questioning if your throbbing wrists can make it ten more feet...


For seven years I had not set down one bag of agony, one jug of dread about this house. Now, finally, these burdens that had greedily clung to my psyche slipped away along with all their weight, like chunks of ancient ice finally breaking from the iceberg to drift away and melt into the infinite ocean. The impossible was happening, and it was happening to us.

A Debt That I Could Never Pay

We watched as trucks pulled up with a crew and equipment, workers began digging 39 strategic holes around the foundation of our home where they placed the fabricated steel elbows against the footing of our foundation, drove stacks of steel cylinders, and began to lift with a computerized pneumatic array, carefully hoisting every wall and corner back into a level plane. You could roll a softball between the foundation and the ground from which it had been lifted. What had been built on 25 deep feet of black mud was finally on bedrock.


Our home sat for the first time since 1977 on a firm foundation.

The day our generous benefactor went to the foundation repair office with us and deposited a down-payment check in our name remains one of the happiest days of my life. This feeling was in the territory of our kids being born. An all-time moment. In addition to that 30k gift, $35,000 of GFM had been completed in about eight days, with $3,000 excess. $68,000. Family members, church family, an armada of long-ago friends. So many people were a part of this moment. God had moved people to be a part of this magnificent endeavor to save one home, save our family of five, and answer a thousand prayers. A debt we could not pay. Paid by ones who did not owe. Miraculous.

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Ben Mereness
Ben Mereness
07. Okt. 2022

Oh, how I remember those moments as though they were yesterday. Watching your video-plea was humbling. I ached for you. Then, the joy of the "miracle" God expressed through friends and other generous hearts humbled me further. When I re-read the story of the $30,000 gift and the heart of the giver, I wept again. Here...now. We wept tears of joy and relief for you. They were humble tears, and still are. It was a miracle of an impossible debt being paid by someone else and, in that moment, I remembered another "miracle" of an impossible debt being paid. Jesus. And I was humbled all over again.

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©2022 by Kory Mereness | Copy Kory LLC

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