Homeless to Homeowners

It didn't start out hopeful, or should I say, ended. Let me start at the beginning, with the fire.

Mid December, a peaceful night interrupted by a banging on the door. The smell of smoke reached us at the same time.

“Fire, there is a fire!” Our neighbor stands at the door in just his boxers. Behind him, on his side of the porch, flames shoot up from his open door.

I have my phone in my hand. “Is everyone out?” I don't know where the unnatural calm comes from.

“Yes.” The flames shoot higher. The sound they make, that hungry, growling sound, I don't hear at first. The panic hits as the 911 dispatcher answers.

She keeps me calm as I try to explain over the sound of my racing heart.

We move farther back and wait on the fire fighters. My dogs huddle nervously around me. The fire licks the roof and I think of everything in my home. The books, my writing, pictures.

The neighbor’s wife talks chaotically. “The kitten. It must have been him. A candle in the living room. It started there, I think. God Tom,” she addresses her husband, “You have no clothes on!”

Screaming sirens. The arrival of the fire trucks brings our other neighbors out. One grabs poor Tom a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. We all stand and watch as they battle the blaze. The houses on either side of us are sprayed down. A window breaks or is broken. The sweet smell of burning wood fills the air. That hungry sound is tempered by their hoses.

Our neighbor’s side is a total loss. It was the kitten and a candle. The poor thing is the only causality. Helen, Tom’s wife, weeps at hearing of his death.

We are led into a dark house by the flashlights of the firemen to grab clothes and other items. A motel is our next destination. Blessed as there remains stuff to grab. Our neighbor's lost everything.

It is dark and cold. We sit on the unburned side of the porch and wait for the Red Cross. Helen keeps apologizing.

“I should have put the candle out before going upstairs. This is all my fault.” She twists her hands together. It would be easy enough to lay it all at her feet. But…

“Accidents happen. I am just glad you all got out.”

Their apartment is built strangely with one room at the bottom, stairs leading up to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. They had to walk down the stairs and past the flaming living room, to make it out. It is a true miracle that they did, that the flames didn't trap them.

“One minute more,” my brother is saying, “A minute earlier and I might have gotten it out.” He had grabbed the fire extinguisher. Made for a small kitchen fire, it was no match for the inferno that he tried to put out.

That he had stepped, barefoot, into the room, flames licking at everything, to try to put it out, was only something I recalled later. In the heat of battle, I hadn't realized.

“You did what you could.” Tom pats his back.

It takes hours for the Red Cross representative to arrive. Shaken with all that happened, we don't mind waiting.

I could speak of her finally arriving, the questions, the cards she handed out. I could tell you of frustration, that ours doesn't work. Of a mattress, hastily placed down on our neighbor's floor, of fallen into a blessedly dreamless sleep, in the early morning hours.

Of a return the next morning, an apology, getting a card that worked, finding a hotel room. Talking over all that happened and what needs to happen next. A few days to start to recover, to put our lives back together.

Hope still seemed far away. Our neighbor's lost all but were on the list for housing. They had a place to go. We headed back to a dark and cold house with running cold water our only luxury.

The electric was shut off with the fire. We had all we had before, minus a way to see, keep warm, and cook and keep food cold. Yes, hope seemed far away.

“Camp out in the house until we see what the insurance company is going to do.” Our landlord advised. We were hoping they would rebuild. Then we could get the electricity back on and resume our lives.

That wasn't the case.

Total condemnation. It would cost more to get it up to code then to destroy it. The countdown to finding another place began.

My brother had the only source of income. It isn't much. No one had any place to rent. The housing market was gutted. Any place available was way out of our price range.

Walking to the store, as we were buying daily, “Tents and camping gear. Maybe we can get a small storage unit.”

My stuff, his swords, knives, books. A few pieces of furniture. Not ideal. Unless we could find a backyard to sleep in, we would be joining the ranks of full homelessness. Moving from place to place. Always worried.

I reach out to my family and friends, my church. Pray a lot. The sweet lady who lives next door allows us to run an extension cord to plug in our refrigerator and a few lights. We have a camp stove to cook and heat water. Now we just need a place to go.

A month. We have to be out in a month.

It seemed hopeless but nothing is if God ‘s in it. He was working the entire time. Working on strengthening our faith, at showing us how strong we were in Him.

A wonderful lady from my church family offered a solution. There was a trailer for sale. Sold by the owner with no payments to be made. She wanted the full amount. It was perfect for us. Even came with a washer and dryer. But, there was no way we could afford even a down payment, let alone, the full amount.

We didn't have too. She wrote out a check, right then, for the full amount. We stood in shock, unable to believe it. We were homeowners. Yes, a trailer is a home.

How do you thank someone who sacrificed so much for you? How do you even begin?

We are paying them back, a very small amount each month. A start but…

“You're welcome but don't thank us. God provided.” She said with a smile. Everything is in His time. The fire, no human life lost, the training we had as children to live rough, the trailer coming up when it did, even the washer and dryer in it. All within His time and way.

We were in a hopeless situation but, the God who created hope, was there through every step. His hand of mercy never left us.

How do we thank her and all who helped? How do we thank Him, from Who goodness and hope flows? Simply by being the best version of ourselves, by helping those around us in need, by sharing t

he lessons and blessings of that time. By being His representative. Always.