THE OLD IS PAST, THE NEW IS COME

There was much about our old home that I loved, especially the remodeled kitchen, the four-season porch and the deck. The porch and the deck were my spaces for the retreat, meditation, relaxation and general "self-care" in which we clergy are so strongly encouraged to indulge. The porch had windows on three sides, the better to let in the light on short, gloomy winter days. The porch was on the northeast corner so that one could enjoy the cool light in the mornings and avoid the heat in the late afternoons. I read many books and wrote many papers for seminary while sitting on either the porch or the deck.

There were also things about our old home that I didn't like so much. While I was in seminary, the clutter on the lower level got ahead of me, and I never seemed to be able to find the time to redeem the space. Boxes and papers were stacked around the family room, and I often felt overwhelmed when I went downstairs. This occurred rather frequently since our bedroom was on the lower level as well.

Now there has been a fire, and we have lost much that we loved. We have also lost much that we will never miss: the clutter, the unused things we owned that we hadn't gotten around to throwing out or sharing with others, the stacks of papers that I thought were important (some of them were) but had never had the chance to file.

Fire is invasive, destructive, terrifying. Yet, even as it burns away the trees of a forest, it makes new life possible. The fire at our home was invasive, destructive, and terrifying. But we are no longer burdened by the thick vegetation and dead wood of our past. We have received the opportunity to begin a new life in a new home with new furnishings. We have received the hope of a new future in a new place, and we know not what adventures this change will bring.

Likewise with the fire of the Spirit, our lives may be invaded and changed in terrifying ways. But the ultimate outcome is that we are able to leave the dead wood behind and live in ways that are filled with new life, new hope, and new adventures.

Storms of Fire

It has been three weeks since the fire took our home. Apparently it smoldered in the garage for hours before it burst into flame, hungrily consuming everything until only black ash and pieces of unrecognizable "stuff" remained. Not willing to stop there, the tongues of fire sought further food, reaching upward into the roof before fire departments could arrive to resist their efforts. Fire turned to flood as the roof collapsed into the house, and the lower level filled with four feet of water: water that saved much of the house from burning yet destroyed most of what was not burned.

It was an unbelievably noisy storm, we are told, for we were on another continent that day. There were lightning strikes too many and too frequent to count. We were told the lightning strike report for that day covering a one-mile radius from our home was over an inch thick.

We are grateful that no one was home. Otherwise the results could have been worse. But of our two cats, Smokey and Shadow, only Shadow survived. Why did the two brothers who always did everything together decide to go in different directions this time? Of all the "things" we lost, it is the loss of Smokey that always makes me weep. They had never been apart, and Shadow, who was always the quiet one, now cries for his brother along with me.

The storm that stole so much from us has not quieted; it goes on in my heart as I am overwhelmed by the many duties, responsibilities and requirements that follow such a disaster. There have been few quiet moments of reprieve. Yet I find I'm not sure I want them because then there is too much time to think. Sometimes I feel as though the fire is burning inside me, consuming the strength and faith I rely on.

Yet there is much good that will come from this. We think we have found a new home. We are excited about new possibilities and new furniture and new journeys. God walks with us and comforts us and guides us each day. We trust that when things get difficult, we will look back and see only one set of footprints--those of God as we are carried in God's loving arms. For we know that each day is a journey, and for today we are...traveling in faith.