Last night, my children and I stood and watched the demolition of the final remains of our home that had been destroyed in the fire.

My throat grew tight as I choked  back the tears that threatened to invade my eyes.

Though we were only renters and not owners of the property, we had a strong connection to the house as we had moved into it during a time of many changes for my family.

Several memories were created there.

 When we decided to move there, I had been looking for a change, a new job opportunity, and a chance to save a marriage that had barely begun yet was on the verge of divorce.

I married at the end of 2010 and lived three hours from my husband. We lived in separate towns when we met. My children were in the middle of the school year and my husband was getting close to finishing his master’s degree.

We had agreed that the children and I would stay in our home until the end of the school year and we would visit my husband on the weekends. We would then move to be together when school was out.

I didn’t mind the travel and we were both busy during the week anyway, so being apart during the week didn’t seem to be a problem…

…until my husband informed me barely five to six weeks into the marriage that he wanted a divorce.

I was crushed!

My marriage had felt to me like a fairy tale that had abruptly shattered into pieces.

I quickly sought out counseling and decided it was time to move closer to my husband.

Within a few months, I found a new job and was offered a home not far from him.

It was nothing short of a miracle how everything came together so fast.

The divorce went through in December 2011 but I never regretted moving to our new home.  

The home was like nothing I had ever lived in and I was in disbelief that I, a single mother with limited income, could live in such a place.

The home itself was not very desirable to look at but we loved so much about it.

It was old and in need of a paint job and several repairs, but the house was spacious and the lot was large for city living; there was plenty of parking for friends to visit; we had several fruit trees in our yard that provided us with bountiful fruit for eating fresh, canning, and sharing with others; our neighborhood was fairly peaceful; the house was located close to a park where the children could play; we were within walking distance to the ferry and beach. 

We had an incredible view of the Puget Sound that friends envied each time they visited.

We had many gatherings of family and friends in our home.

We had AWESOME Halloween parties each year!

Because of the large size of the home, we had the ability to open our doors several times over again to welcome others who needed food to eat or a place to sleep.

We shared many moments of joyous laughter and shed many tears of sorrow in that home.

 We blessed the lives of many in our spacious home overlooking the Puget Sound!

It was heartbreaking to have it all ripped away from us, but the memories will live on forever…

“Have we not reason to be filled with gratitude, regardless of the circumstances in which we find ourselves?”  (Dieter F. Uchtdorf)

Although waking to my home in flames was a frightening experience, it was gratitude that I felt most as I stood that morning watching my home being destroyed.

I wasn’t thinking about toys, photographs, videos, furniture and other items that would be lost.

 I wasn’t worrying that my family was suddenly homeless.

 I was thinking of how grateful I was that I had woken before the fire traveled down to where my children were asleep. 

I wondered to myself, “If I had’t woken up, would my boys have woken in time to escape?” I questioned whether they would have gotten out safely or if they would have been too panicked to know what to do.

 I was thinking of how grateful I was that, despite my feelings of shock, I was able to think clearly and methodically to get my children out safely.

I was thinking of how grateful I was that both my daughter and sister, who had bedrooms upstairs close to where the fire ignited, were out of town that morning.

Although the flames were extinguished just before reaching their bedrooms, their rooms were immersed in smoke and soot. I questioned, “If they had been there, would they have been able to escape through the smoke and the heat?” I  asked myself, “Would they have even woken, or would they have been suffocated by the smoke just as the birds had been?”

The thoughts of what “could have” happened were horrifying, but I chose to focus on the blessings for what was most important – my family was safe!

After the fire crew arrived and began their scurry to put out the fire, I made a phone call to my best friend – the man I am dating.

Though he lived only minutes away, it seemed forever before he appeared as I kept watch for him.

Finally, I spotted him running down the long driveway (he had to park a couple blocks away due to the myriad of fire trucks and police cars blocking the street)…

I rushed toward him and was immediately engulfed in a hug.

We stood for a while and watched the flames spread as the crew worked diligently to contain the fire – all the while, not a tear did I shed; I couldn’t; everything just seemed so surreal – like one of those awful dreams I couldn’t wake up from; a horrible nightmare that I could not escape.

The thoughts that engulfed my mind (knowing my family was safe) were thoughts of my 17 year-old daughter’s birds – a Lovebird and a Conure – which she adored as though they were her children; she had a deep connection with them and I knew if something happened to them she would be devastated.

Several times over again I pleaded for the firemen to go in and get the birds, but their only concern was to put out the fire.

By the time the fire was finally out, one of the crew members went in briefly, only to return with a confirmation of what I feared…the birds were gone.

Though the fire itself did not reach them, they were unable to survive the smoke. How was I going to break the news to my daughter?

It was Memorial weekend and she was staying at a friend’s house.

She had planned to attend a festival in Seattle for her first time and had been looking forward to the event with excitement…I had to make the phone call that would shatter her heart.

My oldest boy (age 15) was quick to get out of bed – something unusual for him.

He woke the eight year old while I woke the six year old. As they all got out of bed, I began to head up the stairs to grab my daughter’s birds, when about half-way up a feeling came to me that I shouldn’t go upstairs, but instead needed to get the children out immediately.

I turned back down the stairs.

I thought to grab my shoes, but knew I may not be able to quickly find shoes for the younger boys as they have a tendency to leave them in various areas of the house when they remove them from their feet.

I decided it would be better to have them leave without shoes than to go on a shoe hunt; therefore, I chose to go without shoes as well so that I was in a similar disposition as the children would be.

I grabbed a blanket off each of the younger boys’ beds to wrap around them and help keep them warm while we were outside.

As the 15 and 6 year olds headed out the sliding glass door of my bedroom, the oldest boy informed me the eight year old had gone the other way – toward the main door – so I immediately ran back to grab him.

Still uncertain where the fire was, I feared he was heading toward it.

I found my eight year old boy just as he was about to enter the foyer leading to the main door and told him to go through my room; he quickly obeyed.

I followed behind, first grabbing my bathrobe, phone, purse, and a $100 bill from my dresser drawer.

As I ran out, I called 911 to report the fire.

Suddenly, I remembered my daughter’s dog was on the deck – while still on the phone, I called for him (knowing he couldn’t get down on his own, but wanting to see that he was okay).

As I came around to the front of the house, I finally saw where the fire was; the side of the house opposite my bedroom was engulfed in flames that were reaching across the deck and into our family room.

The dog was standing at the far end of the deck, away from the flames, waiting. I then noticed my oldest son heading toward the shed at the end of the deck where he intended to climb up and help the dog down.

Before he reached the shed, the neighbor from two houses down came running over with a ladder.

As I felt confident the dog would be safe, I rushed the six and eight year olds to the neighbor’s yard, then I hurried back to our house and moved the car over to the neighbor’s driveway – to make sure there wouldn’t be any damage to the vehicle if there were any explosions.

After rescuing the dog, we were able to place him in the neighbor’s backyard where they kept their own dogs, and then the three boys and I sat and watched the flames from the neighbor’s driveway, in complete disbelief at what was happening, waiting for the fire crew to arrive.

It was about 15 minutes to 5:00 a.m… 

(Saturday, May 24, 2014 – Memorial Day Weekend)

I awoke, as I often do, for what seemed to be no apparent reason – but this time was different; THIS time was life changing.

I heard a faint beeping and contemplated where it was coming from.

My first thought was that it was coming from outside, perhaps the distant beeping sound from construction machines notifying all passer-byers to use caution as the equipment was being driven in reverse.

Then suddenly, the thought entered my mind, “Smoke Alarm!”

I bolted out of my bed, leaving it in disarray.

I ran toward the stairs to find out what was going on.

As I got halfway up, I noticed the smoke billowing toward me.

I didn’t know where the fire was coming from, but it appeared to be in the kitchen area.

My mind began to race as I quickly thought of what to do, while at the same moment questioning myself, “Did I leave the stove burner on last night?” (realizing I didn’t use the stove for cooking dinner that night), and pondering how “this” could really be happening.

I immediately turned, headed back down the stairway and into the bedroom where my three sons were sound asleep, while yelling, “Get out of the house, it’s on fire!”

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