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| Waldo Canyon Burn Scar taken from our church property |
So, I noticed it has been over a year since I last blogged. Where in the world did the last year go?!?!?!? Sold house, bought house, destructive wildfire, young kids, work, trips, yada, yada, yada. I was contemplating the other day on the Waldo Canyon Fire anniversary and am reminded that everyone has their story from that day and so many stories are much more heartbreaking than mine (actually mine is not really heartbreaking so much as an experience I will not forget). Not too long after the fire last year, my work held a seminar for processing trauma. The only thing we did during that time was sit at round tables and let everyone share their version of that day. Sometimes all we need to do is just talk through events and take comfort that others are right there with you, experiencing the same thing.
And so, here is my story....Tuesday, June 26, 2012
I remember that day so vividly. The temperature for the previous days set records for summer heat and we didn't have AC. My work property was evacuated the Saturday before as the fire was already a threat to Navigator property. That Monday and Tuesday about 40 or so "essential" personnel were temporarily stationed up at Focus on The Family's campus trying to serve our thousands of staff around the world. I joked to some co-workers, "aren't we all
essential"? Anyways, that morning, I dropped the kids off at our sitter's house and went to work at Focus. We tried to maintain a "business as normal" approach that day. Easier said than done. We constantly checked the latest with our Eagle Lake Camp property and the imminent threat to the acres of land The Navigator's had at camp for the past 50 yrs.
Later that afternoon, around 4pm, I left Focus and headed to pick up the kids. I had no idea what was beyond those doors. It had been hazy all day with the smoke from the fire, but that afternoon was different. There was so much smoke and wind, I could barely see. As I drove south on the interstate, I saw an ominous dark cloud and little specks of orange on the mountainside. I seriously remember thinking the gates of hell must've just opened. I silently cried out, "Lord have mercy!" By the time I got toward the neighborhood of Rockrimmon, the entire northwest mountainside was on fire. My heart was racing. I will never forget sitting at a red light at the intersection of Vindicator and Centennial. Cops had two of the roads already blocked and the only traffic were the cars lined up in the opposite direction heading away from the fire. These were cars that were packed with belongings - many of which were the only belongings those people would have left. Our sitter lives in a neighborhood just on the other side of Centennial, in Pinon Valley. When I pulled up to her house, she already had her front door open, with a perfect view of the fireball coming down the mountainside. I realize, now that if I had come from Navigator property, like normal, I wouldn't have been able to get to the sitter's house to pick up the kids. Unbeknownst to me they had already blocked off traffic going north on Centennial at 30th.
After I picked up the kids, I headed home in the opposite direction since I needed to pick up a prescription at the Safeway in Rockrimmon. The woman behind the pharmacy counter made a comment that she was waiting for someone to tell the whole store to evacuate. I remember a few friends calling and I remember Ben and I trying to talk multiple times but the cell phones kept cutting out or not connecting. At one point I had to use the pharmacy land line to try to get ahold of Ben. He was supposed to work until 11:30pm that night but he said they just sent everyone home. Normally it would not take Ben more than 5 minutes to get home from work. That night it took him nearly an hour. When I finally got home, I left the kids buckled in their seats and headed inside to grab all important belongings.
Now, up to this point, we were not in any type of evacuation area. Right after the fire started that previous Saturday, I told a few friends that I was going to start a list just in case. Needless to say, I never got around to making that list. I was naïve and didn't want to go to any trouble to make a list and/or actually start packing anything up. After all, I had two young kids and our townhome was under contract to sell. Back to packing...I didn't even know where to begin. My mind was so foggy, adrenaline was kicking in and I couldn't think straight so I just started grabbing. I did manage to grab a few essential things, a few memory boxes/scrapbooks and important papers. Between the trips to the car and the ash falling from the sky, I got more scared by the moment. I kept thinking, why isn't Ben home?!?! After only fifteen minutes, I somehow managed to fill up my car. Thankfully a neighbor across the street assisted me with loading the car as he could see I was struggling and panicked. After all, I had two kids and our cat to take care of and no idea where Ben was and no way to get in touch with him! And so I waited and waited. Once Ben got home and realized that I was freaking out and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep in our house that night with ash falling, he went along and left with me. Luckily he went back in the house to grab a few more clothes for himself. He tried to go up into the attic above the garage to retrieve the cat carrier, but after about two minutes and over 120+ heat up there, he gave up and we just put Beren in the backseat of one of the cars (that cat carrier really would've come in handy later).
I knew we had to leave but where would we go? We have no family in town and the friends we felt the most comfortable asking if we could stay, were more than likely to get evacuated as well.
So, we headed out. All we knew was that we needed to head east, away from the smoke and fire. I recall both of my parents trying to call me but the call never went through. Finally, they sent an email which I was able to read. Once they finally got a hold of me on the phone while driving, the first thing I said before I gave them any chance of responding, was "we are heading east"! Their response was "good, because we were gonna tell you to leave -we are watching it online". Gotta love parents - even though they were over 800 miles away, they knew what was going on and were telling me what to do. :)
So,we stopped at a Burger King on Fillmore, got food in the drive thru and ate in the car (remember, we had our cat and it was over 100 degrees). While eating in the car, I remember lots of phone calls from friends and co-workers. I don't remember much except that people were offering for us to stay with them (I think we had around 8 offers), even people that I knew didn't have an extra room in their house. In the back of my mind I was like, "who
really can take a family of four and a cat?" WeI didn't want to inconvenience anyone. Finally a co-worker of mine called and said, "Christi - we have room, come stay with us". I was blown away in that moment, of community. What we didn't know at that moment was that nearly half our town was evacuating at the same moment and if you weren't evacuated yourself, you were housing evacuees.
So, we headed out east, far east. I didn't realize how long we had been in the car and all of the stoplights we hit until we were a few blocks from my co-worker's house and Livi threw up. Lovely. She gets carsick and with all the stop and go traffic, she got sick. As soon as we got to the house and Ben got our cat out of the car, the cat wet all over and scratched Ben (cat was scared-that cat carrier would have been so helpful in that moment). I literally remember standing on her driveway, saying, "Well, we made it. Can we use your bathtub and washer?" Geesh! If that isn't a way to make yourself feel welcome...
The next few hours are a blur as we got settled in her basement and tried to keep answering all the phone calls, texts and emails from concerned friends and family all over the country. We saw glimpses of the news and the video of houses burning. Oh, the heartache. These were houses of friends and co-workers. We couldn't help but think of the status of our work buildings, too. Both Ben and my work buildings were
very close to the fire. I knew I could still work from home if something happened but Ben could not. That potential reality was too much to swallow.
We were so well taken care of at her house. We had the whole basement to her house - 2 bedrooms, a bathroom and a family room. It was like our own little apartment. Oh, and she had AC!. I remember feeling relief from the heat for the first time in about two weeks. It was around 11pm we got the call from the county stating we were being mandatory evacuated. I will not forget the man's voice on that recording. It was surreal. It was then that I started crying. Before we knew it, it was almost midnight. Livi had never slept out of a crib and guess who forgot to grab the pack-n-play? Yep, lovely. So, we tried having the kids sleep in the same bed. Needless to say that didn't work and each of us ended up in a bed with one of the kids.
I know that 20 years from now, I will remember laying in bed that night, talking and crying with Ben. I think I may have fallen asleep around 3am or so at best. My mind was spinning with thoughts of precious belongings forgotten - external hard drive with photos, baby books, important documents, photo albums, Ben's conch shell from his grandpa, etc. Even though our house was not in immediate danger that night, I couldn't help but prepare myself for the possibility. In those moments, Ben reminded me of what was really important - all of us were together and we were safe. Seriously - nothing more mattered. It was so hard to grasp that at the time, but it was absolutely true.
The next day I headed back to Focus and I knew the mood would be somber. Many co-workers there lost their homes, although nothing was confirmed yet. That morning, though, the group sat around, prayed and sang a few hymns. We praised God for his protection thus far of Glen Eyrie and our HQ building. All we could do was sing and be together. I was torn because I wanted to be with Ben and the kids, but I knew I needed to be with people from work.
So, as I look back on this past year, and particularly the past few weeks where all of these emotions have been brought back to the surface with the Black Forest Fire, I am amazed it has been a year. I drive daily up Flying W Ranch Road through Mountain Shadows and am encouraged by the new growth and new homes being built. I cannot help but think of all the suffering. I cannot help but think of the community and the bond we all share. I didn't lose my house that night a year ago and am so grateful, but many, many people I know did. It is not easy to journey alongside people through something like this. We are called to carry one another's burdens and I feel it more now than ever. One cannot help but wonder what is next and question it all. We all thought last year was a once in a lifetime experience and for it to happen again this year to an even greater extent is simply unfathomable.
Needless to say we are now more prepared to evacuate if, God forbid, we ever have to again. We have our list and I keep adding things to it daily. We have a wildfire mitigation meeting for our neighborhood in a few weeks at the nearby fire station. The threat is all too real but I am constantly reminded that it is only the few items on our evacuation list that are
really important. Really, when you think about everything in your house and break it down into two categories: replaceable vs what is not irreplaceable, it all only comes down to the history, the photos and belongings of your grandparents, your parents, your own childhood, your kids. Of all of the belongings in our house, all of the items on our list can fit in just two cars. It really puts everything in perspective and in a way forces us to release that tight grip on so many material things that are just that - things and they
are replaceable. I have thought of the story of Job more in the past year than ever before. Job had a good life and God stripped away everything that was precious to him - way more than just belongings in a house. What would I do if I lost things that are the most precious to me? How would I respond?
To give you an idea of how much everyone around here is on edge, we had a very dense smoke in the air after dusk a few nights ago. It was so eerie as the sky turned dark. We had all of our windows open and house began to smell like a campfire. After closing the windows, I went to one of the local news websites. At the top, scrolling across in red was this notice, "Do not call 911 unless you see flames". I guess everyone in the whole city was afraid and panicked that a wildfire was in their neighborhood. That is how freaked out we all are here.
This morning I read the Jesus Calling devotional (for June 26). A part of it reads, "Nothing takes me by surprise. I will not allow circumstances to overwhelm you, so long as you look to Me. I will help you cope with whatever the moment presents." For those who have lost so much, none of it was a surprise to God.
In addition, I have been listening lately to a song called, "Need You Now" by Plumb:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ylnx0NA9X4. When I listen to this song, I think of our community and those that have lost so much. May we find the strength to keep breathing and may our need for God increase tenfold through these unfortunate events.
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