Two years ago I woke up to Justin yelling, “Sarah, Sarah, FIRE!”
It was pitch black except for the orange glow through the window. Our porch was on fire.
Step one: get the kids outside.
They were stunned, still half asleep huddled on our back concrete patio. The six year old kept the two year old from stumbling back to bed while the 8 year old held the crying newborn.
Once they were safe, Justin unpinned the fire extinguisher and tried to dampen the flames.
Step two: call 911.
My phone couldn’t connect to wifi to make the call, so while I tried to power up the SAT phone and send out an SOS message, Justin tried on his phone.
I moved the kids to the car, Justin tried to get the hose to thaw.
Step three: play, “what would you grab if your house is on fire?”
- car keys
- 1 pacifier
- the SNOO
- 2 blankets
- 1 pair of shoes
- 1 coat
- car keys
- kindle and journal
- Berkey water filter (this still makes me laugh, who thinks to grab this first?)
- laptop + monitor
At this point the whole front of our house was in flames.
The ground was so cold. It wasn’t until days later that I realized my feet had cuts all over them from the rocks I ran over sprinting between the house and the car.
I yelled at Justin that we needed to be done. It was time to go. The smoke was everywhere.
We drove two miles to the main road and waited for the emergency responders. We saw the sirens for just a second before they disappeared from view. They couldn’t find our location so we had to drive through the ranch to find them and bring them back to our house.
The paramedics checked all of us, told us what to look for in terms of smoke inhalation damage, and let us take our kids into town. As we looked back at the roof covered in flames it seemed like a dream. This couldn’t be real.
It was one am when we got to the hotel, Justin had Apple Pay but the receptionist told us they couldn’t accept it. I hadn’t even thought about wallets but, thank God, both of our wallets were in the car. I remember falling on the ice on the sidewalk and managing to keep my 8 week old baby from slipping out of my arms. None of us slept much.
The last two years have been full of grief. I am a different person than I was, when something traumatic happens you don’t stay the same. There is a before and an after.
It was nothing short of awful, but despite all of the tragedy, these last two years have also been full of hope. Thank you to each and every single person who has prayed for us, sent encouraging words, and supported us. I don’t have the words to express how overcome with gratitude I am.
In the next post I’ll share more about how our house fire started and what we are up to now.