Please help us make JOY from suffering! :)

On Monday, Feb 26th at 8:45 PM, I received a call via Fb messenger from our neighbor to the east while on the way home from working. That had never happened before, so I knew something was wrong. She asked if we were burning debris in the back yard. We weren’t. No one was home. Our house was on fire. For about twenty minutes, while the fire department arrived and finally figured out how to get water moving in the right direction, while I ran around trying to figure out what to do, while I wailed in the yard for someone to please help us, please save our house, fire ate the air in all our attic spaces, and changed our lives forever.

It was an electrical fire, seeded with an error during the construction of our home 25 years ago. My son thinks he smelled it an hour before the neighbors saw it, before he came to meet me for the dart league I was arranging that night. It likely smoldered in the wall for an hour before taking our home and belongings. We’d lived there for 18 years. Our shared life’s collections of memorabilia, two dozen of our favorite personally-owned arcade games and pinball machines, plus two adult lifetimes of everyday possessions and keepsakes over 28 years of marriage, were covered in water and soot and insulation. There were several inches of water on the floor when they cleared us to go inside. Most of the living spaces didn’t burn. We can still stand in the house and see it all. But pretty much everything we own has been lost to water and smoke. The floor has buckled. The engineer comes Wednesday to tell us if any part of the house can be saved.

There is LOTS of good news. No one was home. This same sneaky fire four hours later might have killed us all. Both cats and the turtle survived. We found our inside cat hunkered down in a closet. He’s still traumatized, but alive and healthy. We were able to run into the house and retrieve many photo albums while the fire burned overhead, and before the ceiling fell. They’d always been stored near the back door, ‘just in case there was a fire’. We’d always had that planned. Husband understood the priority when I shouted the order to him in the chaos. Our important papers are all fine. My mother-in-law’s detailed family history and 100+ years of photos survived, having been moved to our house after her passing last year. Her home of 62 years, recently spruced up by my husband before he planned to rent it this April, was empty and waiting for us. We recovered our mattress, so we can sleep in our own bed, smoke smell hidden behind a hermetically-sealed cover. I had extra sheets and pillows from the camper we sold late last year. The ancient trees on our property were entirely unharmed. What you want when your house burns is your pets, your pictures, your bed, your favorite jeans, and great-grandma’s 100 year old potato masher. All those things are safe.

Once upon a time, I took a handful of pills every day to cope with life. I weighed 320 pounds, and was a really great drunk. This fire happened ten days before my six year anniversary of sobriety from alcohol. I found faith in a higher power in 2021, at my first AA meeting, when I’d already been sober for three years, during my last emotional rock bottom after the covid shutdowns. During the fire, when I was so afraid, I remembered recovery stuff I’d been telling other people for years. In my pain, as our home burned, I had a revelation. I said, and then shouted, “I KNOW GOD USES SUFFERING FOR GOOD!” I said it loudly, over and over, testifying in my front yard, mostly to remind myself —an attempt to reclaim my life’s footing, and maybe to let God know I was listening. It was a declaration of faith, which has now become the manner by which I’m addressing our personal tragedy.

You see, I’d gone to therapy earlier that Monday, as is my routine; was feeling really sorry for myself, a little lost and unloved. I joked about being a white woman born in America and how selfish I felt even feeling that way, much less saying it, understanding I have so much good in my life. But I’ve also been feeling stuck, unable to move into the next season of my life in spite of my best efforts. I’ve been suffering for months, maybe years, struggling with letting go of other things I’ve discovered in my sobriety that don’t serve me, including too many possessions. I asked my therapist why I got the bad life, and then my house burned.

Twelve hours after my Monday afternoon appointment, when I next tried to sleep, wondering why this happened, I heard my God voice say, “You wouldn’t move, and it was time to go.” On Tuesday, I didn’t feel sorry for myself or unloved anymore. Funny how that happens. Be careful with your prayers, kids…lol. It’s strange to feel as ok as I do. Maybe it’s shock. Maybe denial. Or maybe I heard the lesson and received the gift as intended.

I have moments of weakness. Yesterday, while talking to the salvage guy, I walked out to my front yard and held on to my ancient pine, hoping it owned some strength I did not, sobbing. I wasn’t wrong. I heard, “You will be restored. Have faith, child.” You see, the fire that burns the mightiest pine also activates its seed cones. This is me. I know God’s got us. The grief and loss is overwhelming. But there is no suffering or humbling I’ve ever endured that has not made me stronger and better as a person and more faithful. Suffering makes us fruitful. We grow ‘superpowers’ like empathy and courage and patience. We find friends we didn’t know we had, and have the opportunity to inspire others.

I’ve described myself as like the mythical Phoenix so many times, rising up from failure into a new and better version of myself. I BELIEVE GOD DID THIS FOR US AND NOT TO US. And so, I am not afraid. This is just the next fire.

I’m an encourager. I spread what I’ve learned in therapy about how to be ok in life’s storms with everyone I know. I say I need a tattoo that says, ‘Talks To Strangers’…lol. Fred Rogers, Mr Rogers to most of us, is my hero. He had a mostly awful childhood. His personal goodness was inspired by his healing, and his faith in God. He is truly my life’s hero and inspiration. He says our goal should be to make kindness attractive. It is my intention to live my life that way. When bad things happen, friends have heard me say, “It’ll be ok. You don’t have to know how or when yet, but it will be ok. And even if it’s not ok, you will learn and inspire others, so it will still be ok.” My own words encourage me in a beautiful way. It feels so good owning them for myself.

My wonderful neighbor on the north side of our house asked me if she should set up a gofundme to help the day after the fire. But we have insurance coverage. We have a place to go. I laughed and told her that if I set one up, I’d probably just end up using the money to buy a carousel. She laughed a laugh like she knows I mean it. (I have my eye on a pricey 100 year old menagerie I want for my hometown. It is my dream.) I’m terrible at accepting help, even worse at asking for it. Gen-X is the generation of self-sufficiency. I was a latch key kid. We figure out how to get things done without bothering anyone else. I told her I didn’t think it was fair to ask our friends for money. We are safe. We have insurance. We have another place to live. We have comfort items and many of our clothes. Frankly, I cant think of anyone more capable of handling this situation than we are. I’d choose this burden for myself and my family over watching three dozen families I know suffer it. I believe I’ve been nudged out of my nest by God and with intention. I’m ok with it. I have peace beyond reason. My husband and I don’t want to ask anyone for help. That isn’t our way.

And then, my sister used the Mom voice, for maybe the second time in our whole lives. She said I pour out love, and that people who love us want to bless us and pour that love back onto us. She said we’re going to have many more expenses than we expect, and that she didn’t want us to get down the road and wish we’d asked for help. She said by not accepting help we are depriving others the joy and blessings of doing so. And she was maybe a little cranky with me about saying I’d buy a carousel instead…lol. So we compromised, and here I am —because the sweetest and most patient person I know cracked the Mom voice for about five seconds. I knew I needed to hear her.

After my sister & I talked, my husband & I learned the house may be lost down to the foundation, which is likely also compromised. We definitely don’t have enough insurance to cover a complicated demo AND rebuild.

My sister will be pleased to read that part of humbling myself to ask for help is taking the opportunity to share my recovery testimony, my hope, and God’s promise to me with as many people who want to read it.

I’ve decided to do as much good and manufacture as much joy as possible while we work this project over the next year or more. Making joy from suffering is the theme. We will use Polk businesses and support our home town. Before today, I’ve reminded everyone who has asked to help us that they are worthy of the best care they’d give anyone else. (Read that again.) I’ve encouraged them to do something nice for themselves and tell me about it so that we might be buoyed up by the happiness we’re making. GOD makes good from suffering, but PEOPLE CARRY OUT THAT WORK. Mr Rogers said, “Look for the helpers.” Are you a helper? It doesn’t have to help me. Just go help. Go do something wonderful.

The goal for our gofundme is the amount of our insurance deductible. I’m thrilled to have a platform to share our experience and my hope for all those good deeds YOU are going to do for others. Plus now my sister won’t be whipping out the Mom voice again for a while. (Phew!) Even if you don’t contribute, I hope our story will remind you to be faithful and encouraging to others in their personal fires, and even in your own.

If you’d like to buy an imaginary carousel ride to contribute to my dream if the insurance pans out, or just forward the link, we’ll take that, too. I’d happily accept $3-5 from many strangers who wish us well over any real amount from anyone who needs it more than we do. I solemnly promise to make as much joy as possible with any monies we don’t need for our rebuild.

But sharing the link or contributing to the fund doubles as a binding contract to commit do-goodery! Inspire someone. Go visit an old person. Compliment a random stranger. Tip extra to a server somewhere, just because. Manufacture JOY. Pour out LOVE. Share KINDNESS. Make it good, people! Then pass it on. —That’s what I want most. Thank you for reading.