When the blaze comes
This morning, NPR News presented a segment about the first-year anniversary of devastating wildfires in California. They presented the facts, talked about the eighty-five victims, and interviewed a survivor whose house was completely floored by the fire.
The man was talking about how hard the whole process had been but that he was happy to report that one year later the foundation of the new house where the old one used to be was finished. He and his wife were replicating the house exactly as it was.
And that kept me thinking...
I put myself in their shoes; the terror they must have felt, the desolation of seeing so much destruction, the wiping of all of their mementos, their heirloom dishes, the tickets of the first time they went to the movies, so many photographs, the cards they kids draw for them. So many things burnt to the ground. I just can’t imagine the horror...and even then...rebuilding the same house?
It amazes me how humans resist change, and then change seems to be the only certain thing in life. Usually, changes feel like a slap on the face. They surprise us with the energy of a tornado. Sometimes changes come so gradually that we don’t even notice them until one day, we suddenly open our eyes and realize things are not as they used to be.
A few years ago, we were being hit by many simultaneous blows at the time, including a sick daughter, a dog losing an eye, a car breaking down, and tons of other major issues. I was so drained and tired! And then, in the middle of all that, our fully finished basement flooded with at least 10 inches of water. I have to admit that it almost felt comical. Like, really? While we were trying to save whatever had not been ruined already and trying to drain the water, my daughter, one of the most positive people I know, said, “Don’t worry, Mom. We can take this opportunity to redecorate the basement; how fun!”
Her enthusiasm was shocking and refreshing simultaneously, and I must admit, it was contagious. The basement flooded a second time after it finished drying, damaging the furniture that was saved the first time. However, we enjoyed the process and our new basement, which we probably would not have touched if we were not forced to do so.
When I heard about the California man, I asked myself what I would have done. There is certainly no right or wrong answer. I believe in signs the universe sends us, sometimes with lessons written in neon. When the universe sends you a devastating fire, isn’t that an invitation to renew, to start over? Like a phoenix bird, when everything is down to ashes, there is no other way but to start anew, from the ground up, from nothing to something. Then why replicate yesterday’s blueprints? Because there is comfort in what we know, but when I am shaken that badly I have found that the only thing that keeps me afloat is trusting that God, the universe, whatever you want to call it, has a master plan that I may not understand at the moment but that it has a very specific purpose. When everything is burning to the ground, we need to relinquish control, stop holding on to what is already leaving and stay calm because things will work out in the end. Sometimes we don’t need to resist, we just need to accept. Hopefully, the house will be rebuilt into something better than before because even if we built the same walls, the house will never be the same.
It takes courage to embrace change, but if we work with what the universe presents to us, it feels as if we suddenly get several pairs of extra hands to help us rebuild whatever we wish.
I was thinking all of this while I was still in the car. I arrived at the conclusion that I would not replicate the old house but take the opportunity to create something new. I have always felt like a phoenix anyways. At that moment, I saw a woman walking on the sidewalk in my direction. Her hand is in the air. She is just walking, looking at the street, but she is flipping the bird at no one in particular. Her hand is just up, and she has a smile on her face, and then I realized that is the attitude of a woman who is not stopped by any fire, tornado, flood, or problem. She is ready to face whatever life throws at her because the universe has her back, and she can be reborn from her own ashes.
And so I smiled at her, from one badass woman to another, while a blaze was burning inside, and the ashes were already transforming into something new. Just like the universe intended.