July 4th, 2016. We pulled down my street and I leaped out of the car before it could even come to a halt. Tears streaming down my face I ran through what seemed like a decent crowd of people. Firetrucks blocked my view until there it was. My family's beautiful home with firefighters all around, ripping off pieces of the roof, banging through walls, making sure the fire hadn't spread. I first made sure my dog was safe. She was, grass sitting, tail wagging. I then looked up and saw my room. Out of my window spewed clouds of smoke. All I could think is, we're screwed, I'm screwed. I began to assess what I was probably about to lose. My clothes. My baby blankets. My treasured moments. My grandpas sweater and the necklace he got me. My bible. The list was endless.
It was hours before they let us go in the house. We were lucky, they said. Flames had started soon after the firefighters responded to a call of smoke coming from our house. They were able to put out the fire. No one was harmed, not everything was completely lost, just a house full of smokey everything and pieces of the ceiling and walls sprawled across the floors.
When I first walked into my room I expected the worst. Charred clothes, melted knick knacks, the works. What I saw was mostly a messy torn apart room. What I smelled, now that was bad. I quickly grabbed a bag and stuffed some of my jewelry, my baby blankets, and some clothes inside of it. I didn't look too hard at anything. I bid my bed a goodbye and got the heck out of the house because I felt like I was suffocating.
I'm a comfort person. I love being comfortable. I think that's why I love my suburban family home so much. I'm comfortable there. It's safe, it's nice, everything I need is there. Even though I could live in my house on campus I chose to stay home for the summer so I could be in my comfort place. There's something about being at my house that's so comforting. During the school year I live on campus, but the minute I get sick (which is often), I go home. The minute I'm extremely upset, I go home. The minute I just need a break from the craziness that is college, I go home. That's my place.
Because my body is constantly so uncomfortable due to Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS), I think I like to be comfortable in every other aspect of my life. If I could just be mentally and emotionally comfortable, then maybe it'll help ease the pain in my body. So that's what I do, I get comfortable to ease the constant discomfort my body is in. And home is where I do that.
There's specifically one room in the house that I love. It's a little living room off the kitchen. 10/10 for coziness. But now, now it's just ripped down walls and insulation and smells like a bonfire gone wrong.
It turns out most of our stuff is gonna be okay. We have to be out of the house for over 4 months for damage control, and everything we own will go to a warehouse where it will get deodorized. My room got the brunt of the smoke, but not everything was lost like I had anticipated. I just won't have some of my stuff for a while.
Stuff. I am such a stuff kinda person. I LOVE things. I think I like things because they make me feel comfortable. Thinking about possibly losing my stuff, that was scary. Now some of it was replaceable, clothes, my bed, etc., but what about the letters I've kept from all the people I love? What about the last thing my grandpa gave me before he died? What about all the memories that come with the stuff?
After hours of watching my house go up in smoke I realized something. Everyone was okay. Everyone I loved was fine. I can't cling to this stuff. At some point everything I own will be lost, thrown away, given away, or forgotten. When I die, I can't take my stuff with me. I can't rely on my house, my clothes, any of my stuff for comfort because it can all be gone in an instant.
There's a verse in the bible that someone shared with me a few days ago. It's Paul, a follower of Christ, talking. He says, “What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ” (Philippians 3:8). When I reflected on this I couldn't stop thinking about my house. Nothing in my house matters, my actual house doesn't matter, compared to knowing how much God loves me. Christ is the only thing in my life that will never rust spoil or fade. Christ will never go up in flames. Even though my bible is damaged, His love for me isn't and never will be. It can't be touched. It's eternal.
Watching my house fill with smoke I had to check myself. Everything is a loss compared to knowing Jesus. I had to tell myself that over and over. What a reminder that our home isn't here on earth. Our homes here can catch on fire, or get ruined by a flood, or be destroyed. But our heavenly home is never ending, untouchable, for always and forever.
I'm pretty sad about my house if I'm being honest. Before I go to sleep at night I almost cry thinking about how it's gonna be a long time before I can be in my safe room, in my comfy bed, again. But I think this is God teaching me not to rely on those things. He's asking me to rely on Him for my comfort, regardless of my physical ailments, or my heartbreak over my destroyed house. He is always working, He is always teaching, He is always preparing me for what lies ahead. Stuff doesn't matter. It's garbage. It's not gonna last. But He will.
“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Cor 4:18
When I first walked into my room I expected the worst. Charred clothes, melted knick knacks, the works. What I saw was mostly a messy torn apart room. What I smelled, now that was bad. I quickly grabbed a bag and stuffed some of my jewelry, my baby blankets, and some clothes inside of it. I didn't look too hard at anything. I bid my bed a goodbye and got the heck out of the house because I felt like I was suffocating.
I'm a comfort person. I love being comfortable. I think that's why I love my suburban family home so much. I'm comfortable there. It's safe, it's nice, everything I need is there. Even though I could live in my house on campus I chose to stay home for the summer so I could be in my comfort place. There's something about being at my house that's so comforting. During the school year I live on campus, but the minute I get sick (which is often), I go home. The minute I'm extremely upset, I go home. The minute I just need a break from the craziness that is college, I go home. That's my place.
Because my body is constantly so uncomfortable due to Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS), I think I like to be comfortable in every other aspect of my life. If I could just be mentally and emotionally comfortable, then maybe it'll help ease the pain in my body. So that's what I do, I get comfortable to ease the constant discomfort my body is in. And home is where I do that.
There's specifically one room in the house that I love. It's a little living room off the kitchen. 10/10 for coziness. But now, now it's just ripped down walls and insulation and smells like a bonfire gone wrong.
It turns out most of our stuff is gonna be okay. We have to be out of the house for over 4 months for damage control, and everything we own will go to a warehouse where it will get deodorized. My room got the brunt of the smoke, but not everything was lost like I had anticipated. I just won't have some of my stuff for a while.
Stuff. I am such a stuff kinda person. I LOVE things. I think I like things because they make me feel comfortable. Thinking about possibly losing my stuff, that was scary. Now some of it was replaceable, clothes, my bed, etc., but what about the letters I've kept from all the people I love? What about the last thing my grandpa gave me before he died? What about all the memories that come with the stuff?
After hours of watching my house go up in smoke I realized something. Everyone was okay. Everyone I loved was fine. I can't cling to this stuff. At some point everything I own will be lost, thrown away, given away, or forgotten. When I die, I can't take my stuff with me. I can't rely on my house, my clothes, any of my stuff for comfort because it can all be gone in an instant.
There's a verse in the bible that someone shared with me a few days ago. It's Paul, a follower of Christ, talking. He says, “What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ” (Philippians 3:8). When I reflected on this I couldn't stop thinking about my house. Nothing in my house matters, my actual house doesn't matter, compared to knowing how much God loves me. Christ is the only thing in my life that will never rust spoil or fade. Christ will never go up in flames. Even though my bible is damaged, His love for me isn't and never will be. It can't be touched. It's eternal.
Watching my house fill with smoke I had to check myself. Everything is a loss compared to knowing Jesus. I had to tell myself that over and over. What a reminder that our home isn't here on earth. Our homes here can catch on fire, or get ruined by a flood, or be destroyed. But our heavenly home is never ending, untouchable, for always and forever.
I'm pretty sad about my house if I'm being honest. Before I go to sleep at night I almost cry thinking about how it's gonna be a long time before I can be in my safe room, in my comfy bed, again. But I think this is God teaching me not to rely on those things. He's asking me to rely on Him for my comfort, regardless of my physical ailments, or my heartbreak over my destroyed house. He is always working, He is always teaching, He is always preparing me for what lies ahead. Stuff doesn't matter. It's garbage. It's not gonna last. But He will.
“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Cor 4:18