Fire

When I was little, there was a big sticker on the window of my bedroom that let firefighters know that a child slept there. I was always told that if there was a fire, I should never open my door, but climb out the window to safety. Sometimes I would lay awake in my bed and try to imagine how I would perform in a fire. I knew that I should just leave, because my life was the most valuable. But in the safe darkness I would imagine that I was able to heroically save my stuffed animals too. Maybe I would open the window and quickly throw things out the window before running. Where should I start? In my drawers to save some clothes? In my closet to save my stuffed animals? The more I imagined, the more I was able to save it all, coming back multiple times for loads before having to run for it--presumably with all of my precious belongings in my arms.
I guess I was just trying to make sense of how I would survive if disaster struck, hoping and praying that I could be prepared or strong enough to save myself from total devastation. The idea of everything I owned being burned in a fire was one of my true fears as a child. I would see pictures of burnt homes and burnt toys and it would strike fear in my heart.
I still wonder what would happen if I lost everything. I feel like it's a very real possibility, even though I constantly tell myself to relax and go about life in happy denial that harm could ever touch me. Being a missionary kid meant giving up a lot of securities and material objects of comfort over and over again. But it also meant that I mostly knew it was coming. I knew that we would be moving to France soon, and that meant I only got two suitcases. I knew that I couldn't take the teddy bear my French classmates gave me as a going away present onto the plane with me to Africa. I knew that when we left Africa, the community and world that I loved would dissolve as all of my friends left the place never to return again. And maybe that makes me more confident that even if everything disappears, new growth comes and fills in the holes. Or maybe it just makes me more paranoid that one day I will have to leave everything I now love behind, and so I should get prepared.
I've been thinking about fire today, because my brother lives in San Diego. He expects that his house will be fine, but he has evacuated anyway just because things are getting so bad. And even if he survives this without major loss, so many others are losing right now. My heart goes out to them. There's nothing worse than loss that strikes when you least expect it, or when you are powerless save that which is most dear.