32-1/2 Hours

Saturday, November 15th,10:00am
Alan and the boys have gone camping and fishing overnight, so Elizabeth and I head to the mall to do a little Christmas shopping. Our plan is to return home in a few hours to meet the guys. As we drive away, we have no idea what the next 32 1/2 hours will hold for us.

11:30am
We are walking around the mall when Alan calls me on the cell. It sounds unreal when I hear him say there is a wildfire in our neighborhood. All the roads are blocked and he can't get home. We are concerned because Shadow and Nutmeg are locked in the house. I can't remember if I left the windows open or not. He tells me to stay at the mall for a while because traffic in our area is crazy with all the rescue teams arriving and the people evacuating. I hang up and pray like mad. I call a couple of friends and ask them to pray. Minutes later I start getting phone calls from friends offering help.

1:30pm
During lunch, I receive more phone calls from concerned friends. Elizabeth overhears the conversations and starts getting worried. I decide to head back, despite the bad traffic and smoke. We can't walk around the mall and concentrate on shopping, knowing that our home and dogs are in jeopardy. Even free Godiva truffles cannot tempt me! I call Alan on the way and he suggests we camp out at a friend's home in the area. He and the boys have been sitting in the car in the Borders' parking lot waiting. All his attempts to get to our house to rescue the dogs have failed. As I drive northbound on the freeway I am stunned by the black smoke over the county. It looks like Armageddon. I pray and wonder, "Lord, are these the last days?"

2:30pm
We stop by the gas station. In the five minutes it takes to fill the tank fifteen fire trucks race by, sirens blaring, in groups of three. We drive a few blocks to our friends' home and are welcomed in. Elizabeth goes off to play with their kids while the adults watch the fire coverage on TV. We see one of our friends from church being interviewed. She says that her neighbor's home was burned, but her home was spared. I am amazed. There's also coverage of a huge apartment complex on fire, a place we drive by all the time. We later learn that someone at church lives in that complex, too. I think of all the things I would have taken from home if given the chance: my laptop (important docs), Franklin planner (ditto), photos, Bible. Maybe my camera. Definitely our dogs. I think of random things left behind: Christmas gifts waiting to be wrapped, library books that may never be returned, bills waiting to be paid, a calendar filled with events.

3:30pm
I am relieved when Alan and the boys show up. He decided to leave the Borders parking lot when the smoke started getting thicker and the fire became too close for comfort. He had heard a few explosions and thought, "It's time to get out." Elizabeth is relieved to see the boys. The kids go off to play again while the adults stay glued to the tube and continue to pray. One of our pastors calls Alan and prays with him over the phone. I notice there are a few messages on my phone. For some reason my phone didn't ring. I try to return a call but the call won't go through. All circuits are busy. I remember my schedule for the next day. I have a homeschool ministry leadership meeting then a lunch date with a friend. I need to cancel both. I am able to get in touch with one of the leaders but can't call my friend because I don't have her phone number on me. I kick myself for not programming contacts into my phone.

5:00pm
We eat dinner at In-N-Out and plot what to do next. We see two weary, blackened firefighters waiting for their order. I ask one of them about the possibility of retrieving our dogs. They both look at me with compassion. He replies that they aren't from our area, but the best bet would be to ask for a police escort. I thank him and head back to the table. My mind keeps racing--"If only we didn't go shopping. If only I had packed an emergency bag like the experts tell us to. Did I leave the windows open? Do the dogs have enough water? Please, Lord, don't let them die."

6:00pm
We decide to go to our church's Saturday evening service. One thing we have learned is that God is worthy to be praised, no matter what is happening in our lives. And this is surely a time when we need to keep our eyes on Him! We run into many concerned friends who say they are praying for us. The sanctuary is smoky, and the crowd is lighter than usual. It seems a little surreal...like a haven in the midst of a war zone. Our pastor asks for the people who have been evacuated to stand and share our status. We stand up along with a dozen or so people and look at each other. Everyone breaks into small groups to pray. Our pastor preaches from the book of Acts. We leave full of peace and encouragement.

7:30pm
We decide to split up. Alan wants to try again to rescue the dogs while the kids and I go to another friend's home with the intent of staying the night. When we arrive there, the air is very smoky. The fire had spread and is burning northwest of their home, 17 miles from our home! They welcome us and help us unpack the sleeping bags which, ironically, Alan and the boys had used the night before while camping. We log onto their computer to check the online fire map and are relieved to see that our street hasn't been affected so far. The evacuation status still remains, though, so I am not yet ready to breathe easy.

10:30pm
The kids are tucked in bed but are having trouble sleeping. Daniel is coughing from the smoke, so my friend moves him to another room with a special air filter. My cell rings, and when I pick up I hear Alan's voice say, "Can you hear Nutmeg?" Then I hear panting. It takes me a moment to realize that he had made it home! "You've got the dogs?!!" The kids hear me and excitedly start jumping out of bed. Alan had patiently waited for several hours trying to return home. Apparently, the roadblocks have come down for the night, so his patience was rewarded; he was able to make it back home. Only one other neighbor appears to also have made it back. He reports that the windows were all closed. Thank You, Lord. The fires are still raging but he doesn't feel he is in imminent danger. He tells me that he plans to stay home with the dogs unless he is told to leave. I am torn by his decision, but I tell him the final call is his. I make him promise to leave the lights on so that rescue workers would know that someone was in the house. The kids go back to bed, and a little while later so do I.

Sunday, November 16th, 2:30am
I have only been sleeping a little while when I hear a loud THUMP! I find Jonathan on the floor. He has fallen off the sofa. He is okay, just a little dazed. He giggles and gets back onto the sofa. I go back to bed.

6:30am
I hear noises; the kids are up. I am a little disoriented to wake up in a bedroom not my own. Then I remember. I lay in bed wondering what the day will hold. I pray. The air still smells smoky. My hazy memory recalls that Alan made it home last night. Despite the gracious offer for breakfast, I decide that we should probably head back. We pack the sleeping bags back into the ash-covered car and gratefully hug our friends goodbye.

8:00am
I am on the cell phone while driving toward home. I call Alan and ask him to look up my friend's phone number so I can cancel our lunch date. She is not surprised as she has been watching the news. The fire is now near to her, too. My parents call from Hawaii, wanting the latest report. They are relieved to hear that Alan has made it safely home. I am feeling pretty good until I discover that our freeway exit is coned off. Yikes! I get off the next exit, get back on the freeway and try the westbound exit. Blocked. I exit and try surface streets. Blocked. In. All. Directions. I listen in vain to all the radio reports and there is no report of when the roadblocks will be lifted. Fires are still raging. This is bad news. Bad, bad news.

9:00am
We are at Corner Bakery Cafe. The kids think it's a great treat to eat out for breakfast, but I have little appetite for the Anaheim Scrambler in front of me. I am on the phone with Alan again. We decide that since he's safe it makes sense for him to stay with the dogs until an evacuation is mandatory. Their presence--an overweight, arthritic, elderly dog and an exhuberant, bionic-hipped puppy with a penchant for chewing everything--would complicate matters.

10:00am
We move to the chairs on the patio outside the restaurant. There are dogs everywhere. We scratch the head of an old Golden Retriever who doesn't appear to be worried about anything. I am thankful that our dogs are safe with Alan. Daniel tries to catch a few winks on the cushioned bench. Next door, Starbucks is doing brisk business. A man eavesdrops on my conversation and realizes that I'm a fellow evacuee. He wants to trade war stories. He tells me his; I tell him mine. He says, "If it all burns, it's just stuff." I agree, "Yep, this is all temporary. My real treasure is in heaven." He looks at me and says, "That's right."

10:30am
The kids and I are wandering the aisles of Target. We buy a case of water and emergency items such as toothbrushes, soap, socks, t-shirts, etc. Jonathan tries to convince me that Lego are necessary for survival. Uh, no. Nice try, buddy.

12:00pm
We make another attempt to go home, but the roads are still blocked. In fact, the roadblocks have been moved farther away so the radius around our home that is "unaccessible" is even wider. Friends continue to call and offer help. I give them an update and ask them to keep praying. There are plumes of smoke rising from the hills and the thick black blanket in the sky remains. The kids say they are hungry. It doesn't seem right; didn't we just eat breakfast?

12:30pm
The kids and I are at Islands. I usually love their China Coast Salad, but this is the fourth meal I've eaten out in 24 hours and I am already sick of restaurants. I don't mind eating out on vacation; it's another thing when you're dying to go home and can't. I'm still wearing my smoky clothes from the day before and am trying hard to keep my eyes open. The waitress stops and asks me if I'm okay. That's when I realize that my head is buried in my hands. I have been praying. I reply that I am okay--and I really am because I know God is with us--but I am just exhausted. Wiped out.

2:00pm
After lunch we attempt to drive home. Blocked again. I call Alan and ask him for cell phone recommendations and directions to a Verizon store.

2:30pm
We are at the Verizons store. Alan has been telling me to get a new cell phone for months, which hasn't been high on my priority list. My old phone, an "ancient" one with an antenna, dies at the most inconvenient times because the weary battery doesn't hold its charge very well. In times of emergency a cell phone is one of your best friends. So I get a Blackberry and tell myself, "Welcome to the twenty-first century."

3:15pm
A couple of friends call to check on me but I don't recognize the new ringtone so they go to voice mail.

3:30pm
Radio reports are still vague about the evacuation status, but the damage toll has escalated. The kids and I wander aimlessly through Barnes and Noble. I wonder how long I can keep them occupied. They wave Christmas gift ideas in front of me but I am a zombie amongst the bookshelves. Another call comes in and Daniel alerts me that my new phone is ringing. I manage to press the right button. Our friends invite us back to their home for dinner and an overnight stay. We make plans to do so. The kids are excited about the thought of another sleepover. I wonder when is the earliest I can take a shower. I am glad I bought toothbrushes.

4:15pm
We are about to leave the store when Alan calls. He reports that the evacuation has been lifted! I am relieved to hear the news. The kids are disappointed the sleepover is cancelled.

5:00pm
As we drive home I realize we don't have food in the fridge because I had planned on going to the market the day before. I drive to a restaurant in dread of placing yet another order. Unfortunately, the restaurant is now boarded up. A victim of the slow economy? We make the long trek back to the car.

5:45pm
We find another restaurant and place an order. While I wait I make a mental note that I need to be ready for the next time we are stuck on the road--cash, water, emergency supplies, cell phone, phone numbers. My Bible. Mustn't forget my trusty, highlighted, marked up Bible. Friends continue to call for updates. I tell them we're going home. I'm too tired to sound excited, but I am, I really am.

6:30pm
We slowly pull into our neighborhood. I glance up and down our street. Few people have made it back yet. All homes on our street are untouched, including ours. Thank You, Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you. The kids pile out of the car and race inside. I slowly unpack the food and find Alan next to the car ready to give me a big hug. We go inside and are rushed by dogs with furiously wagging tails. The house smells like smoke, we smell like smoke, and all I want is a shower. But we are home. 32 1/2 hours later, we are home. Home, sweet home.

Several days later...
There are still ashes everywhere and the charred smells seem like a permanent companion. The news reports are in. In our county alone, 317 homes were damaged or destroyed. 16 of those were in our immediate neighborhood. My heart breaks for our community. Even so, it could have been worse, much worse. Miraculously, there have been no reports of fatalities. None. The mercy of God. Please pray that those who lost their homes will find peace and healing through the Lord.

How can we not do soul searching in times like these? I am reminded of several truths. Almost everything we own is temporary. Only a few things are irreplaceable. Life is fragile and short. Be ready for anything, for we do not know what tomorrow will hold. Eternity is the only thing that matters in the end.

Lord, let me focus on the treasures that cannot be lost, stolen or burned. I need to make my days count. Help me to keep an eternal perspective; help me to keep my eyes on You.

"To console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified." Isaiah 61:3