The Day I Almost Didn’t Open the Door

I almost didn’t open the door that morning.

I saw the man through the peephole—clipboard in hand, envelope tucked under his arm. He knocked once. Then again.

I stood there holding my breath like that would make me invisible.

He eventually left the envelope wedged in the doorframe and walked back to his car.

I opened the door once he was gone.

The envelope was marked “FINAL NOTICE.”

It was official. The foreclosure process had begun.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

That’s how it felt at least.

I hadn’t lost my job. I wasn’t sick. There was no big dramatic event. Just a slow descent into not-enough. Grocery prices crept up. Gas. Renters moved out of the downstairs unit. My side income dried up. The mortgage payment became harder to make—and eventually, it didn’t get made at all.

I thought I’d catch up. I always had before.

But this time, I didn’t.

I started avoiding calls. Ignoring letters. Pretending it wasn’t happening.

It’s hard to explain the shame that comes with financial struggle, especially when your life still looks okay from the outside. I still drove a decent car. Still smiled at neighbors. Still went to work every day.

No one knew I cried at night behind a locked bathroom door because I didn’t know how to keep my home.

When the foreclosure papers came, it felt like someone had drawn a red circle around my failure for the world to see. I didn’t know what to do. The instructions were all in legal speak. Every number I called gave me vague responses or directed me to a website.

One night, I was reading personal finance blogs—hoping for a miracle answer—and I found a comment buried in a thread from someone who said they’d worked with a man named David Litt from 4Closure Rescue. They said:

“He was the first person who didn’t make me feel like I was stupid or irresponsible. He just helped me understand what I could still do.”

They left a number: 224-344-5700.

I saved it, then let it sit in my phone for a few days. I was scared to call. Scared of being judged. Scared it was already too late.

But one morning, when the fear of doing nothing finally became louder than the fear of rejection, I picked up the phone.

David answered himself.

He didn’t ask me to prove anything. He just asked, “How can I help?”

That was the first time I let the full story spill out. The missed payments. The notices. The guilt. The isolation.

David didn’t offer false hope or magic fixes. He calmly explained what my lender was likely to do next, how foreclosure timelines actually worked, and what legal options I still had.

He helped me prepare a hardship affidavit. Showed me how to submit a complete loan modification package that wouldn’t be ignored. And he followed up—not with pressure, but with compassion.

He didn’t just save my home.

He gave me back a sense of control I thought I’d lost.

I still live here today.

The same front door I once hid behind—I open it freely now.

Because I know I didn’t fail. I faced a hard moment. And I found the courage to ask for help.

If you’re standing in your kitchen, staring at unopened mail, wondering if it’s already too late, please hear this:

It’s not.

📞 Call David Litt at 4Closure Rescue: 224-344-5700

Someone out there will listen. And sometimes, that’s all it takes to begin.