Here in Wenatchee, Washington it has been an eventful couple
of days. A fire started yesterday in the
afternoon and quickly moved along the hillside towards town, destroying around
24 homes and catching in several buildings downtown. Earlier today there was a threat of an
ammonia leak and warnings to stay inside.
As I write this, I don’t know the extent of the damage. It seems the fires are no longer spreading,
but they are still burning and there is concern that the wind could whip them
into a frenzy if it picks up.
I need to process this fire.
It has shaken me up.
My house hasn’t burned down and I am safe. I’m thankful for this! But you should know that until November 2013
I spent the entirety of my life along the east coast. They don’t have wildfires. There were severe snows and hurricane threats
periodically, but they rarely directly touched my life. Living out west in an area susceptible to
fires is a different experience entirely.
One of the things I’ve loved about being out west is the sheer wildness
of it, the imposing peaks, the winding highways through passes, the reminders
that I’m small. But there’s another side
to that coin that I don’t like as much and it is called fire. I’ve had to ask myself over the past few
days- “Can I stand to live in a place where there’s a very real possibility
each fire season that I could lose everything?”
Uncertainty and Fear
After we got home we turned on the news and discovered that
evacuations were happening directly to the north and west of us. You know that question, “If your house was on
fire what would you grab?” I always
thought of that as a nice thought exercise, again one I wouldn’t have to actually
consider. But as I looked out our back
window and could see nothing but flames on the hillside, we readied ourselves
for a quick escape. As we packed, I was
struck by how little I felt the need to bring.
I was mainly concerned with my journals, letters from family and
friends, pictures, and a few books that have meant a lot to me.
We were not evacuated, so we went to bed reluctantly at 3:30
AM, continuing to nervously glance out the window and check for evacuation
notices. We prayed a simple prayer
before several fitful hours of sleep, and I was struck by something my wife
Tiffany said to God. She thanked Him
that no matter what happened to us or our belongings, we had Him.
Returning
This is not a new insight.
We know how suffering, loss, and moments of fear can give us a fresh dose
of perspective. I have a renewed desire
not to take anything for granted. People
woke on Sunday morning like it was a perfectly normal day and by that evening
they were fleeing their homes. I was
also reminded not to hold onto anything too tight. You don’t get to take it with you, at some
point in this life it may be taken from you, and most of it doesn’t matter
anyway. But last night these things I’ve
thought about primarily as intellectual, head knowledge, shifted to emotional
experience for me. I pray I don’t forget
the truth of it. We’re such interesting and
stubborn creatures. Well, I won’t speak
for you. I’m mostly amazed at myself
that it takes something like a town catching on fire to make me stop and
actually take in deeper truths. And by
tomorrow I fear I will have forgotten it and started worrying about petty
things, focused again on my comfort. Let
it not be so!
“Whom have in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides
you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but
God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:25-26