I've always taken for granted the preciousness of my safety. My home has always been a place where I feel completely protected, and completely immune to any sort of danger or disaster. Even when I see other people's homes invaded by fire, thieves, earthquakes, kidnappers, floods...I never really allow the thought to enter my mind that any of those things could happen to me. To my home. I'm impervious. Unbreakable. I am in some magic bubble of protection from any catastrophe that could strike. And heck, I don't deserve to have anything terrible like that happen to me, so it never would. Never in a million years.
Yeah. Talk about a reality check. Even when the fire was less than a mile from my house, as I was casually packing up some things "just in case," I didn't believe it would come close enough to really affect me, save for a little smoky smell and some ash, when it was all said and done. But when Joe, who loves me more than I think I'd ever realized until last night, darted into my room telling me to hurry the hell up and get what I needed because the fire was getting closer and the winds stronger, I started to get it. But I think I was so in shock at the idea that I was really in the middle of a serious threat to my home and, potentially even my life, that I still didn't think like a person in the middle of a disaster. I couldn't come up with any rational plan of action to find essential things I could grab and leave behind everything else that could be replaced. I just started grabbing things and throwing them in a backpack, a bag, a purse. I mean for Pete's sake, I brought my shampoo and conditioner, my laundry detergent (AND fabric softener sheets), but I didn't get my favorite, gigantic green blanket that I crocheted in less than two weeks' time. I didn't get the file of all the silly poetry I wrote in high school, or my keepsakes from my trips to Romania. I got my laptop, the pink slip to my car, my phone charger, most of my dirty clothes (which happened to be most of ALL my clothes), some jewelry, the seven-dollar Keds I bought at a thrift store last weekend...but I didn't get any of my favorite books, or my extra checks, or my seven seasons of Gilmore Girls. I mean, I guess what I left behind is still just stuff. And of course, when it comes down to getting out of my house to a place of safety, or risking that extra minute to save my Gilmore Girls addiction, I know I did the right thing. But if I could do it all over again...
And let's not even talk about the ridiculous week I had that led up to last night. On Monday, I was freezing. I wore three or four layers of clothes, plus a scarf and long socks. I complained all day about how cold it was. And yesterday, the weather was warm. The wind was strong. And the fire started. Then, all week I had been telling myself I needed to clean up my room. It was a disaster...I mean like it used to be back in high school, when I couldn't see a scrap of carpet. And I kept putting it off, and telling myself I could get to it on Friday morning before Joe and I would head out of town for the weekend. And then the fire started. And when that moment of reality hit, when Joe said so firmly that I had to decide between getting angry with him for yelling at me, or recognizing his serious concern for our safety, the first thing I thought was, This would be so much easier if I had cleaned my room earlier this week. And my second thought was, So much for doing my laundry BEFORE we left town. Because yesterday Joe and I got into a stupid argument over how he wanted me to take all my laundry to his parents' to do it there, so that we could have more time to relax at their place, whereas I wanted to stay home later on Friday morning, get my laundry done and room cleaned, and then we could go once I felt like my life was back in order.
It's amazing how quickly your eyes can be opened to the frivolity of the things you fight about with the people you love. How petty it was for me to be so obstinate about what I wanted to do, when just a couple of hours later, none of it would matter at all. My house was no longer safe. My lack of organization and clean laundry was no longer something worth fussing over...though now I think I'll make more of an effort to stay tidy, because the fact is now, has always been and ever will be, that you just can't prepare enough for these kinds of unexpected emergencies. And I know now that it would have been much easier to locate the most important things, had I been able to maneuver around more easily, and had things been in their designated places.
But anyway...I'm not writing this to reprimand myself for being habitually unprepared for hazardous circumstances. I'm writing because it's all I know how to do to keep myself from way overthinking this thing. Letting anxiety and fear dominate and turn me into a fearful wreck. I'm safe now. I know that I'm safe, but I don't ever want to take that for granted again. It's a tough mindset to acclimate myself to. Somehow I need to be more alert, but not paranoid. More rational, but not looking over my shoulder every second waiting for another disaster to strike.
And the good news is, at least as of this morning, my house is still standing. It could have been SO much worse...like it was for my neighbors across the street. Just a hundred feet away from my front door, another home DID burn to the ground. I can only pray that they were able to salvage their valuables and get out safely, too. And thank God for how very fortunate I have been, in spite of the utterly unfortunate event of last night, because I'm safe, I'm unhurt, and my house is very likely to still be one of the lucky ones that survives this awful fire.
No matter what transpires over the next couple of days as firefighters struggle to contain and defeat the Tea Fire...whether my house goes up in flames or not...I now know what it feels like to be a victim. I know the unsettling acknowledgement that my life may never be the same after one night of tragic destruction. I know that as much as I've tried to live fearlessly, I'd better start living more realistically. And I don't want to let another day go by that I'm not thankful for whatever degree of safety and provision I am blessed with. I'm not immune to catastrophe. But I am alive. And in every circumstance...even when my house is in the middle of a major fire, I am protected by God's arms of strength and mercy. Tangible possessions aside, even my own physical LIFE aside, I know that whatever may happen, He's got me in his grip. And after last night's scary reality check, that is something I am really holding onto more now than ever.
Yeah. Talk about a reality check. Even when the fire was less than a mile from my house, as I was casually packing up some things "just in case," I didn't believe it would come close enough to really affect me, save for a little smoky smell and some ash, when it was all said and done. But when Joe, who loves me more than I think I'd ever realized until last night, darted into my room telling me to hurry the hell up and get what I needed because the fire was getting closer and the winds stronger, I started to get it. But I think I was so in shock at the idea that I was really in the middle of a serious threat to my home and, potentially even my life, that I still didn't think like a person in the middle of a disaster. I couldn't come up with any rational plan of action to find essential things I could grab and leave behind everything else that could be replaced. I just started grabbing things and throwing them in a backpack, a bag, a purse. I mean for Pete's sake, I brought my shampoo and conditioner, my laundry detergent (AND fabric softener sheets), but I didn't get my favorite, gigantic green blanket that I crocheted in less than two weeks' time. I didn't get the file of all the silly poetry I wrote in high school, or my keepsakes from my trips to Romania. I got my laptop, the pink slip to my car, my phone charger, most of my dirty clothes (which happened to be most of ALL my clothes), some jewelry, the seven-dollar Keds I bought at a thrift store last weekend...but I didn't get any of my favorite books, or my extra checks, or my seven seasons of Gilmore Girls. I mean, I guess what I left behind is still just stuff. And of course, when it comes down to getting out of my house to a place of safety, or risking that extra minute to save my Gilmore Girls addiction, I know I did the right thing. But if I could do it all over again...
And let's not even talk about the ridiculous week I had that led up to last night. On Monday, I was freezing. I wore three or four layers of clothes, plus a scarf and long socks. I complained all day about how cold it was. And yesterday, the weather was warm. The wind was strong. And the fire started. Then, all week I had been telling myself I needed to clean up my room. It was a disaster...I mean like it used to be back in high school, when I couldn't see a scrap of carpet. And I kept putting it off, and telling myself I could get to it on Friday morning before Joe and I would head out of town for the weekend. And then the fire started. And when that moment of reality hit, when Joe said so firmly that I had to decide between getting angry with him for yelling at me, or recognizing his serious concern for our safety, the first thing I thought was, This would be so much easier if I had cleaned my room earlier this week. And my second thought was, So much for doing my laundry BEFORE we left town. Because yesterday Joe and I got into a stupid argument over how he wanted me to take all my laundry to his parents' to do it there, so that we could have more time to relax at their place, whereas I wanted to stay home later on Friday morning, get my laundry done and room cleaned, and then we could go once I felt like my life was back in order.
It's amazing how quickly your eyes can be opened to the frivolity of the things you fight about with the people you love. How petty it was for me to be so obstinate about what I wanted to do, when just a couple of hours later, none of it would matter at all. My house was no longer safe. My lack of organization and clean laundry was no longer something worth fussing over...though now I think I'll make more of an effort to stay tidy, because the fact is now, has always been and ever will be, that you just can't prepare enough for these kinds of unexpected emergencies. And I know now that it would have been much easier to locate the most important things, had I been able to maneuver around more easily, and had things been in their designated places.
But anyway...I'm not writing this to reprimand myself for being habitually unprepared for hazardous circumstances. I'm writing because it's all I know how to do to keep myself from way overthinking this thing. Letting anxiety and fear dominate and turn me into a fearful wreck. I'm safe now. I know that I'm safe, but I don't ever want to take that for granted again. It's a tough mindset to acclimate myself to. Somehow I need to be more alert, but not paranoid. More rational, but not looking over my shoulder every second waiting for another disaster to strike.
And the good news is, at least as of this morning, my house is still standing. It could have been SO much worse...like it was for my neighbors across the street. Just a hundred feet away from my front door, another home DID burn to the ground. I can only pray that they were able to salvage their valuables and get out safely, too. And thank God for how very fortunate I have been, in spite of the utterly unfortunate event of last night, because I'm safe, I'm unhurt, and my house is very likely to still be one of the lucky ones that survives this awful fire.
No matter what transpires over the next couple of days as firefighters struggle to contain and defeat the Tea Fire...whether my house goes up in flames or not...I now know what it feels like to be a victim. I know the unsettling acknowledgement that my life may never be the same after one night of tragic destruction. I know that as much as I've tried to live fearlessly, I'd better start living more realistically. And I don't want to let another day go by that I'm not thankful for whatever degree of safety and provision I am blessed with. I'm not immune to catastrophe. But I am alive. And in every circumstance...even when my house is in the middle of a major fire, I am protected by God's arms of strength and mercy. Tangible possessions aside, even my own physical LIFE aside, I know that whatever may happen, He's got me in his grip. And after last night's scary reality check, that is something I am really holding onto more now than ever.
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