The Fiery Trial

February 10, 2007: I’ll never forget that day. I still remember what I was wearing. We were celebrating birthdays with family members, and had finished eating dinner when we got the call: our house was on fire. The 45 minute drive home was pure torture for me as I wondered what we would find when we got there. It’s a picture that is forever ingrained in my memory. The countryside was dark, but our house and yard was lit up by the three big fire trucks sitting in our driveway with lights still flashing, and the bright spotlights they had aimed at our house. My house. The spotlights cast eerie shadows on the bare timbers that used to be hidden by a roof. We had to shout above the noise of the generator. It was rather traumatic, especially for my little sister who wouldn’t get out of the car. The firemen said we could go in, so with a deep breath, I followed my mom into the house. The strong, heavy smell of smoke would have been suffocating if there had not been a huge, gaping hole in our roof to allow the cool, night air in. As I walked up the soggy stairs covered in insulation and packed with ashes, I remember looking up and seeing the bright shining stars in the dark sky. I fought back tears as I surveyed the disaster area. I couldn’t stop shaking. The firemen then explained that the ashes could smolder overnight and catch fire again, so we should get out whatever was valuable to us. I started throwing clothes in a bag, and trying to gather up my treasured possessions, and I think that’s when it hit me: I am homeless.

Kids, this is why you should always keep your room clean lol! Actually, their room didn't look this bad before the fire, we kinda trashed it while digging through stuff.

It was bitterly cold that week. We had to dig through stuff while there were snow flurries coming down. I had about 5 layers on in this picture.

We had to dig through the pile of ashes, boards, and insulation that the firemen threw out the window. The pile had toys, bedsheets, and other belongings in it.

My sister kept this Bible; she cleaned it off and dried it out with a hair dryer. And yes, it still smells like smoke!

Apparently, this clock stopped at the time the fire started.

The days that followed the fire were probably the most difficult of my life up to that point. The hardest part about it was that I felt like I had no one to talk to. My dad was across the world in another country, so my mom had to carry the weight of it all by herself, dealing with insurance, cleaners, moving, and more. I didn’t feel the freedom to talk to her, because I felt like I was supposed to be there for her, and help her carry the burden. She had to comfort the other kids, so I believed it was my duty to be strong for her. Many days, she was the only reason I got out of bed and kept moving: Mom needed me. However, I didn’t even talk about my feeling to anyone else. When people would ask me how we were doing or if we had lost a lot of things, I would force a smile and say we were doing fine, and we didn’t really lose very much, so we were blessed. But inside, I was hurting, crying, and wondering if I would ever laugh again. I would secretly say to myself, “If this is what ‘blessed’ feels like, I don’t think I want it!” I had never been so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted in my life, but that was a turning point in my relationship with Christ. Although I didn’t talk about what I was going through with anyone else, I was completely honest with God. Up until then, I don’t think I was really honest with God about my feelings, which is silly because He knows exactly what I’m thinking or feeling anyway. Somehow, I thought that if I told God that life was hard, and I was hurting, I would be rebelling against Him, or I would make Him mad. Through the experience of the fire, I started understanding that God wants us to bring everything to Him, and even if we come to Him upset, hurt, or angry, that’s okay, because He’s God and He can handle it. So that’s what I did; I came to Him, and told Him how much it hurt that I didn’t have a home, that I had to go through this pain, that I felt so alone. Everyday… multiple times a day. And I discovered that He welcomed me with open arms. God loves it when His children trust Him enough to tell Him what they are feeling. After that experience, He also started working on me to be honest with others. I’m not a very open person; over the years I had become very good at hiding my feelings and stuffing them all down inside, but I’m trying to get better about being open and sharing with people.

Here’s what I wrote in my journal one month after the fire:
· I feel at least two years older
· I have felt a sense of confusion, loss, hopelessness, pain, despair, agony, and loneliness that I have not felt before
· I have realized how temporal and meaningless “stuff” is
· I have longed for heaven and a house that can’t be destroyed
· I have grown even closer to Jesus and learned to trust Him in a new way
· I have learned that it is possible to sleep standing up!!


Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy.

~1 Peter 4:12