Lessons in the Fire

My neighborhood looks deserted this morning.  After sweeping my back deck and driving to the post office, I think I’ll join my neighbors and stay indoors, too.  The heavy layer of smoke over our towns here in the Verde Valley chokes us and destroys the air quality.  I read our Arizona fire fighters have fought 20 fires this season and summer has just begun.  The big one, The Rafael Fire, burns in the mountains west of Sedona having already destroyed 46,000 acres.  At night, it lights up the curve of the mountain top with its orange flames; thankfully, it still is a good distance from our homes.  But, oh, the smoke!

                                            The fire near us was a nail biter!  

It all started in our little town a few weeks ago.  The Sunday after Memorial Day, I noticed a strong smell of smoke coming through our evaporative cooling system as I finished the sandwich I made for lunch.  I panicked when I walked outside to see a grass fire incased in huge billows of smoke on the next block.  It spread toward a neighbor’s house and some of the guys put it out with water hoses and got it to back up although the neighbor’s yard looks charred today.

The fire started in the wilderness and grew wide as a football field before it approached residential homes.  We hosed down our property and prayed the 91^st Psalm reminding God of His promise to send us angels for protection.  I’ve watched my east-coast friends take spiritual authority over immense hurricane winds and thought I would give it a try.  I faced that demon of smoke and told it to move north, the opposite direction, and go where no homes are as I called on the mighty Name of Jesus.  I didn’t care who heard me or thought I was crazy. We got in touch with neighbors close by.  Together, we covered our homes with the blood of Jesus and noticed the fire turned around and crossed the dirt road and advanced toward open wilderness and into the mountain range that borders our community.  Prayer works!  So does preparation.  All our residents quickly learned the forestry lingo:  Ready-Set-Go.

Our daughters were not happy with us.

Emergency vehicles paced our street throughout the afternoon.  The sheriff gave us orders to evacuate.  Whereas, I think that was a good choice for some, a bunch of our closer neighbors joined us in waiting it out.  We watched the winds hold steady as the blaze remained parallel to our street about one quarter mile in the distance.  Should the winds shift, it would engulf us.  My car was ready and packed with my purse and important papers.  My husband kept telling me not to worry but keep praying.  The winds obeyed our many prayers and I knew we escaped danger as it passed our homes.

 

I loved the way our neighbors checked on each other and cared for hot animals left behind.  High temperatures raged along with massive winds but I wanted to be outside meeting up with my neighbors as we supported one another.  By nightfall, the fire burned 1,200 acres and settled in the mountain guarded by Hot Shots.  I will never forget the sound of aircraft tankers.  I felt like I was in a bunker with bombs going off overhead as the pilots sprayed retardant.   Maybe I watch too many World War II movies.

 

I learned many lessons that day:  the importance of community, organized plans, supportive prayer times, etc.  It was hard on our children often calling on our cell phones and hearing my nervous voice.  Imagine their anxiety not being able to see what I see but only massive clouds of smoke hovering over our little community in the distance.  The community bulletin page on social media got some facts wrong.  Finally, my neighbor corrected them and wrote:  “Not all of us left.  Some of my neighbors watched as the fire circled around our homes and moved to the mountain.” 

 

Days later, I cried happy tears when a close girlfriend sent me a handmade note card filled with encouraging words.  She enclosed a gift certificate to our favorite local burger place to cheer us.

A friend of ours in Phoenix wants us to pack up and drive down to her large home in the valley and stay awhile.  Oh, her pool and hospitality tempt us.  Escapes have consequences; I really don’t want to return to dry and thirsty trees and dead garden flowers.  No, we’ll stay here and hold the line.  Even if it’s smoky.

 

The lessons I learned in the fire alarmed me.   As I document this frightful day, I hold dear my precious neighbors.  I savor prayer declarations ordering the enemy that wants to destroy us to be annihilated by the power of Jesus’ Name.  We never lost electricity.  And I realize the importance of study and application of God’s holy Word as we never know when calamity will visit in the days to come.  I am thankful.

 

Arizona needs rain desperately.  Arizona needs prayers.

 

“He provides rain for the earth; He sends water on the countryside.”  Job 5:10