A Muddy Footprint In the Midst of Flames

Deana B called me this morning fairly early. Immediately, I said, "What's wrong?" Now, Deana B and I talk a lot, but not on Sunday morning before church. She proceeded to tell me that the young couple that lives across the street from them lost their home in a fire last night.

They lost everything. . .

except, for the most important thing, which is their own lives.

They were out of town for the weekend.

Deana B woke up to go to the bathroom at 4:30 this morning, and she saw a flash of orange light outside her bathroom window. She ran to the front of the house, and saw that the house across the street was ablaze. She ran and woke up Sean and called 911. She said when she first looked out at the house, she noticed that the part of the house where the largest amount of flames was coming from was the nursery. The nursery. Now, Deana being the wonderful, wonderful person that she is not only knew that this couple was out of town, she had already spoken to them over the phone several times this weekend. We had a few tornadoes to come through our little town on Friday, and Deana had called the neighbors to give them updates on the weather and the state of their home. So, when she saw the nursery devoured in flames, she knew the baby was not in that nursery. Thank You, Jesus.

Two things that she said during our conversation will stick with me for a good long while. At least, I hope they do. She said that after she had been outside for a while, she walked in her front door. She took several steps, then looked down and noticed that her shoes were covered in mud, and she was tracking it on her foyer floor. Her first reaction was, I've got to take my shoes off, and then it hit her. . .

Her neighbors were in the process of losing everything they have, and she was worried about getting her floors dirty. She said that she picked her foot up and put it down as hard as she could on the hardwood below her and left the biggest muddiest footprint that she could leave. Then, she took a step back and stared at it. She said, "Erin, I think I may never clean it. I want to leave it there as a reminder of what is truly important." Later in the conversation, she said, "I think God is trying to teach me something. I worry so much about clutter on my counter tops and dirt on my floors, and when you are watching a house go up in flames, it kinda puts things in perspective. Makes you realize what really matters."

Conviction.

The other thing she did while we were on the phone was to draw a verbal picture for me of our local fire department working selflessly to put this fire out. No lives were in danger (except for those of the brave young firemen), the house was pretty much completely gone - there was nothing left to save, but still these courageous men continued to put themselves in harms way and fight this fire. She said that the entire 2nd story was ablaze and the firemen were on the first floor fighting a fire above them. At any moment any or all of them could have lost their lives, but they continued with their work. She watched the front porch collapse on one fireman. And, at one particular almost surreal moment, she watched as the sun was rising in the sky behind them - the reds and oranges of the sunrise, blending with the flames from the house and the brave men working with all diligence to do the job that is their own.

Thank You, God, for firemen.

I told Deana, "It takes 9-11 or something like this to make us realize the incredible sacrifice these men make everyday." True heroes. And, so, I leave for church this morning with a heavy heart that hurts for this sweet family, but, also, with a fresh perspective and a few good reminders tucked away deep in my soul.