When Fire Breaks Out On Our Country Hill {UNITE Linky}

This is the most somber post I have written to date, and may ever write. As I sit here in the blazing summer heat, french doors open to my bedroom…I see a sky of soot, smell that aftermath of fire burning.

Fingers start typing…

Yes, I can still hear the clanging of ladders, harsh spraying of water from fireman’s hoses nearby.

Our quiet, wooded hill on our dead-end road, will forever be changed this day. 

It all started when my husband ran to the bank early today, to make a deposit. I was at home with all the younger kids, my oldest daughter was on her way.

We were finishing cutting onions and tomatoes, for the clean, turkey burritos we were making to eat.

At 5:14, something in my gut pierces me.

It’s been an hour. “Where is my husband?” I knew it didn’t take an hour to make a deposit at the bank.

“Where’d ya go?” I text him. Uncharacteristically using slang.

I get a call, almost immediately after…

His voice sounds smooth, unpaniced, “Call 911, Bob’s place is on fire.” 

“What?” My mind is usually a little slow in situations like this. I ask again, as his voice is unchanging. This does not sound like a man who is watching a fire, “Wait, what do you want me to do?”

“Call 911, right now. Bob’s place is on fire.”

This time my mind caught up, “Are you there? Are you at his house?” My heart drops. Then flat line…

My husband hung up.

Our neighbor, Bob.

What you need to know about Bob is, he is the longest living resident in this part of the woods. He

is quiet, calm, part of this landscape as any old oak, planted here.

Bob has crows feet surrounding his smiling eyes, a long, white full, beard, much like Santa Clause.

If you meet him at our small, country, hardware store…you might think He came straight from another era.

Everyone around our parts knows Bob.

One Christmas? Our SUV got stuck coming up our driveway. Bob went back to his house, got chains and pulled us out. It didn’t matter that it was his birthday, or Christmas, or that his daughter was at the hospital, at that very moment giving birth to his grandson…

He simply refused to leave us stranded.

Bob always puts other people before his own needs and wants. That’s what makes him so unique and well loved in our community.

Bob built his house from the thick timber he cleared on his very own property. Word has it, our house also, has part of that same timber.

Bob restores cars, fixes things, helps neighbors, and will do anything for anyone, never once excepting payment.

He is not a Christian, but I have often thought, if I were to write out a playbook, of what true Christianity needs to look like, Bob’s name would be on it.

On weekends, all the men in the neighborhood gather at his place. People from far and wide, help him cut timber all summer, so he has enough wood to burn and keep warm the following winter.

On Fourth of July, you can often hear music and laughing. His children and neighbors come and enjoy eachother. Bob knows how to celebrate, and doesn’t descriminate who he talks to.

Brown, black, or white, Bob treated people equally. He was a logger who lived on his five acres of wooded property, refusing to cut all the trees, like so many who move here do; clearing instantly, then building their new, big, fancy houses.

Bob’s wife has a whole different story. Last I knew she struggled physically, was on oxygen constantly. They were married, twice, and from what know, she was the love of his life…

But today, the fire burned.

The water is still loud, as I write, and the firemen saturate the ground.

I called 911, at a quarter after five, then walk out of my house to find a bellowing cloud of dark gray smoke filling the sky.

Our property lines with Bob’s. Only a towering cascade of evergreens separate our two properties.

I peek through the bushes, flames. Then, walk towards the street, and see the neighbor.

Panic stricken, she warns me, “Get the kids out. Go far away. There are huge canisters of oil and propane at Bobs. If they explode, it will set aflame everything.”

“Even over here?” I nod to the trees, connecting my eyes with our two properties, and finally our house.

“Yes”…

“My husband is in there.” I tell her. I cannot think anymore. Explosion? Husband? Fire?

I try not to panic, forcing my trembing hands to fumble with the phone to warn my husband, while racing back in for another sleeping little one and directing our children as they walk calmly to safety.

All the kids are casual, grace-filled, grab their stuffed animals, while a friend whose visiting non-challantly snatches the leash of our new puppy.

It is as if angels themselves are escorting us. We walk, single file, out to the street, like we practice as foster parents, these past twelve years.

The day before, I was getting water, and was just looking at the “fire escape plan” I have had taped to my wall the past twelve years. I never actuallly thought we would need it. In fact, when I studied it, I kind of chuckled at why it’s been there for so many years, but we’ve never had to use it.

The children, puppy, and I cross the dead end street onto the safety of paved, wide open space.

I finally can stop and tap in numbers and call my husband. He doesn’t answer. What is he doing? Why was he there? Would there be an explosion any second and the daddy whose our hero, instantly disappear?

I thought…”Pray”.

Then, I called my oldest daughter,, “Pray. Contact everyone you know, and tell them to pray.” I explained the situation, how her dad was in the flames, and fire danced near.

We had no word about Bob. He was old. Was he gone? No information about his nephew who helped him or his one daughter who lived with him? We questioned if anyone or everyone was safe…

What was happening?

And when crisis hits, I am reminded who it is I turn to. Who never fails us when tragedy strikes. When you have nowhere to run, who or what do you depend on?

I get down, look my twelve year old in the eyes, “Pray. Pray for dad’s safety.” I start praying out loud, a short, child-like payer.

Miraculously, I stay calm. I look around to gage the other kids. They are safe and calm too…

Yet, I look at my twelve-year-old’s eyes, and quiet tears start streaming down her face. Did she see Jack on This Is Us, and his brave entry into the burning fire and ultimately, sacrifical death?

Why did I let her watch that?

Yes, angels must have been with us. I could feel His presence though everything was uncertain. I look at her again, “Everything’s going to be o.k. sweetie, just pray!”

The water hoses are still spraying and there is some kind of scraping sound I hear as I am writing this….

He doesn’t answer. I text my husband as fast as I can, “There’s huge oil tanks that can explode GET OUT NOW!!!”

He answers back, “I can’t fire truck is on my way”.

“GET OUT!!! I don’t want to loose you!!! Fire trucks are coming!!!” I text him again, “GET OUT”…

And the words, “I can’t” dance through my head. I knew He was a hero…

I mean, there was that time he gave the heimlich maneuver to the choking down syndrome boy while camping, out in the woods, far from home….

He ultimately saved his life.

Also, there was that time his cousin was drowning. As a ten-year-old, he instinctively, just dove into a swimming pool, saving her very life.

Yes, he was a hero. My hero. Always was and always would be. 

I knew he wouldn’t leave if there was anyone in danger. He protects. Defends. Cares for. And will do anything for anyone….that’s just who he is.

Did I even realize just how lucky I was…How lucky we all are?

Standing in the blazing sun, sky darkened, hearing fire engines and seeing ambulances finally coming over the hill…I feel a mix between terror and relief…

Was someone dead? Why the ambulance? Was there so much smoke, my husband’s lungs were tightening? Was he trapped in some building, trying to save somebody?

The neighbor, daughter of Bob, drives to where we are standing. “The fire is in the sheds, not the main house. I thought it was in the main house. The propane is in the main house.”

I calm down a little, but knew my husband was in there. He wasn’t answering the phone. We waited. And waited…

Turns out, this is was what happened…

My husband was on his way home from the bank. He saw dark smoke while driving up the hill near our house. He thought it was strange, because everyone around our parts knows, you only burn on rainy days, overcast days, or Sundays….

It wasn’t a Sunday.

He pulled into the driveway before ours, where Bob lives. And get this…just moments prior, Bob was working on a classic, an old Cadillac.

He had just changed the engine, (you can see the car burning in the photo my husband took during the actual fire)

My husband explains, when Bob turn the car on, the engine went up in flames.

That’s when my husband, again…just happened to drive by and see the dark smoke.

The flames grew large.

Bob took an old hose, trying to put out the flames, but it didn’t have any water pressure. My husband warns, “No,” He notices the walls of the building burning. “Let’s just get the out old cars.”

Bob grabs his tow truck and together they start hooking the chain, then driving out each expensive classic, one by one.

God also gave my husband the insight to race into the fire, and drag out gallons of gas and huge propain tanks that were already creating small explosions and could have blown up, lighting our whole hillside on fire…

Making our wooded dead end look like a real life war zone…

They went back in for a fourth car, but at this point, my husband noticed, not only the walls, but the ceiling was ablaze.

It must have been a whisper of His Spirit, because something inside my husband told him, “No, no more.” He recognized it wasn’t safe.

He told Bob, “That’s it. I am not going in again. It isn’t safe.” He stopped at the door, watching tens of thousands of dollars of vehicles go up in flames.

Bob, seeing so many precious things burning, ran in again, alone this time.

Part of the ceiling fell, caught the back of him and set his hair on fire. He turned back and left, knowing the rest of his things would be gone forever.

Thankfully, my husband was right to listen to his gut, trusting his instincts, yet again, in the middle of such an intense situation, most of us might, want to rescue the things we love.

The rest of the building went up in flames. The fire then spread to another building, then another. Trees also were flaming with fire, seen miles away…many later tell me.

Honestly friends, it is a miracle some of those flames didn’t just skip over to our property.

The few explosions that did take place from the propain, didn’t shoot flames, or even kill Bob and my husband.

God had His hand on us today, that is for sure. He had his hand on Bob. He had angels, I am sure of it, watching over our entire property.

Afterwards, we got word, some of our friend’s told us…they saw this fire on our local scanner and were praying for the safety of everyone involved. They didn’t now it was us they were praying for.

Readers, we never know how our prayers might save anothers life…

Like the thousands that prayed for no rain, during the eighteen days the boys were in the cave in Thailand.

Prayer. changes. things.

We know, because the moment those boys were rescued, it rained! What are the chances?

Before we bought this place, we had a Spirit-filled pastor. At the time, he didn’t know we were in the process of buying this house. Yet, he randomly started preaching…

“Someone is going to buy a house and you are not going to have to worry about anything happening to it. Angels will be surrounding it.”

Today, those words rang true. Today, I give thanks to a God who placed my husband at the right place at the right time.

We have been bringing cookies to Bob for years, have been praying for His salvation…but today, him and my husband will share a memory, nobody will take away from them…

Today, two of the kindest, most giving, bravest, most generous men I knew, fought together, racing into the flames, to not just protect some cars, but a whole entire hillside and community from going up in flames.

As I write this, I still hear the fireman’s hoses…

But the reality is…there is forrests everywhere in our vacinity. Acres and acres and acres that could still be burning.

This could have turned out so, so differently…

The world needs more heroes like these. Men and women of bravery and courage. Indidviduals willing to be daring and selfless. People willing to fearlessly step into the flames for those they love…

I asked my husband tonight, “What were you thinking the whole time you were running into the flames?”

He shares…“I was thinking about my family. And how the flames could spread to our home and property. I was trying to protect you all.”

That is love, friends! That’s the courage of a true dad, willing to risk his life, doing anything for those God has put in his care….

I will never forget this day, even as hoses still spray and saturate the ground, and firefighters still clutter the driveway down our dead end street…

Everyone survived tonight, thankfully. But friends…go home and hug you family, embrace those you love, because none of us know when today might be our last.

Most of all, cling to the One who sets angels around families, possessions and properties. The Good Shepherd looks after and cares for the sheep who follow His voice.

My husband’s throat still burns from the smoke, hours later. Thankfully, he is able to shower and washes away all the smoke from the layers on his skin…

I will hug him tight tongiht. I will thank him. And I will pray in gratitude for the miracle that happened on our hill, in our quiet corner of the nation.

Yes, I will not forget this day…

The day the flames burned bright and threatened our peaceful, country hill. When two men went in, removing the dangers in sight, while angels watched over our families…

And not one flame crossed over to our property…

I will thank God for protecting us, protecting my husband, protecting our quiet peace of heaven, and all those who gathered tonight in mourning for the loss of property owned by a man they love.

Yes, when I think of this night, I will remember…

This hill is where heroes live, God exists, and angels are working double-time, disguised like firefighters still drenching everything in sight, a white bearded neighbor, and my husband who I am thankful for tonight.

** Friends, if you get a second, would you pray for Bob? Within the past year, he lost his wife, and now his three outbuildings burned up in the fire, with thousands and thousands of dollars in damage. Most of all, pray he finds Jesus through this. He is a man of great influence who at Christmas time, lit up his entire property so his wife could see Christmas lights from heaven. We want him with us in enternity. Perspective is everything. Let this situation be a forever bond between Bob and my husband. One old, one younger, one a white-bearded “hick”, another a Spanish immigrant…yet, character links all of us. And character is what stands when the flames start to dance and take what you love most.

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