“Did you ever think your house would burn down?” Eden, my afterward seven-year-old daughter asked me every few days, for months, after an arsonist randomly put our house on fire.
“No,” I’d answer each and every moment.
“I never thought my home would ever burn down,” she would say, shaking her head. Neither did I and, regardless of the fact we only marked the second anniversary, I can not quite believe it did.
There are hundreds of people in Colorado Springs who understand this feeling exactly.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
Last Wednesday (June 27, 2012), since the wildfires raged, while over 35,000 residents who were evacuated waited to figure out if their homes had been destroyed, my mind and my heart were left using them. It had been two years to the day of our very own fire.
Ours was set in the wee hours and we were home and in bed. My husband and I gathered our kids and the puppy and fled with the clothing on our backs. I stopped just to grab my notebook, which was at hand, and ran barefoot to the darkness.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
As we stumbled on the course across the road and watched the flame spread, what surprised me was the absence of pain, even when I knew everything was missing. I was in shock, true, but I was also clearer than I have ever been : “That” (our home and possessions) was things and may be substituted; my loved ones, standing beside me, alive and physically unharmed, was irreplaceable. I could live with no rest.
“We have been through worse.” I said repeatedly in the early days, and we had, but I didn’t understand trauma, and I didn’t understand that the flame was just the start.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
As the months and weeks passed, I couldn’t believe how hard it became. It had been such a surprise that getting somebody set fire to our house and losing all our possessions was not the most terrible part; it had been struggling against bureaucracy and creating each single financial decision — from what spatula to purchase to how big to build the home — while still traumatized and exhausted.
And in the early days, the horror of passion was mingled with and nearly covered with the extraordinary outpouring of service, the beautiful and astonishing generosity of our community.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
It started while our home was in flames, together with Paul’s (my husband’s) sister and brother-in-law scooping up us from the side of the road and welcoming us into their home, where we remained six weeks, catching our breath and planning the next step.
Very early, I called one of those pastors, who declared the fire in church. A buddy was given checks and money for us, there on the spot. Friends from college assembled another day to strategize our immediate, midterm and long-term demands. Our house was smoking when a local business was established as a drop-off place for donations.
Paul’s coworkers helped set up an account at our credit union and were collecting donations the following day. Many continued to watch out for us over the long year of rebuilding.
Neighbors, some we barely knew, stopped and handed us money or provided furniture, clothing, even a place to stay.
Friends and family at a distance called, sent care packages and wrote wonderful, adoring cards and mails.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
I asked Paul, more than once, “Does anybody understand we’re well insured? That we’ve got savings?” I didn’t have any idea how slow and hard insurance would be how fast we would go through our economies. It was embarrassing being the focus of much attention and, as strange as it sounds, I found overwhelming generosity — at times — simply overwhelming.
Here’s What Happens, and What You Can Do
Perhaps you have friends who lost their house in Colorado Springs, or one of those other regions affected by wildfires. If that’s the case, you might be longing to do some thing, and I’d really like to offer a couple suggestions.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
Message, text or email them your love and concern. Crisis is so isolating, and hearing that others understand what’s happening and that they care is wonderful. However keep it simple: “I’m so sorry for the loss. I’m so glad you’re alive.” There is actuallyn’t much else to say.
Listen. Everybody is going to have a unique response to this terrible event. Following our passion it seemed I was constantly out of step with all the prescribed story. When folks believed I should despair, I was hopeful. When others assumed things were looking up, I had been tanking. Your buddy, that (in case Colorado Springs) is surrounded by many others going through this exact same catastrophe, will require someone to just listen to how it is for her or him.
Send a test. This is one of the most helpful things you can do. Your friends are going to be spending money every which way, and insurance can take a while to process, even if everything goes smoothly.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
Send a gift certificate. Everybody in our household is a reader, so we have been given many gift certificates. Our books were one of the first things we wanted to replace. You can send a certificate to a favorite restaurant or a grocery shop.
Give clothes or home things. Be really thoughtful here. If they have been insured, your buddies will be given with all the family basics and might not be prepared to sort through a lot of stuff.
Make a meal or bring groceries. Your buddies are probably exhausted and struggling on many levels. Even if they are staying with people briefly, this could aid their hosts.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
If you are local, run a needed errand. Once I went on my very first shopping trip after the flame to obtain a pair of sandals, my regional mall didn’t have the style I wanted, but the mall on the opposite side of town. I was not able to take the opportunity to drive that way, but a friend discovered, purchased them and sent them right to me. It meant a lot better.
Concentrate on the kids. If kids are involved, it is complicated. Losing everything is particularly devastating for these; their belongings mean so much better. If you can, figure out a game or toy a kid is missing especially and get him or her immediately. You will have done a great thing for the entire family.
Consider taking the long term. The procedure after a flame is extended. You might choose to check in during the rebuild and do any of the above a couple of months down the road when they might require it most.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
Do you have friends who had to flee, but their home lived? They’ve been through a terrible ordeal also and are likely feeling wrecked. Pick anything on the listing and I’m positive it will greatly appreciated.
Don’t know anybody personally, but wish to help?
The American Red Cross Disaster Relief does good work. They help people in crisis undergo the first 48 hours after a catastrophe with money for food, shelter and clothing. Find out more at redcross.org or even 1-800-RED-CROSS. Folks can also text “REDCROSS” to 90999 to create a $10 donation.
The Humane Society for the Pikes Peak Region took in hundreds of pets belonging to Colorado Springs evacuees and always needs assistance.
Sandi Gunnett Photography
When we watched our home for the very first time after the fire, I told Paul, “I never need to stop being grateful we lived. I don’t understand how things are going to go with insurance, I am aware that it may get stressful, but I never wish to get past gratitude.”
An argument may be made I did.
But once I think about the goodness of our community, the astounding kindness and overflowing generosity that surrounded and buoyed us I know I didn’t and I never will.
Photographs of the author’s home after the flame by Sandi Gunnett
More: Simple Acts — The Unsung Power of a Fantastic Neighbor
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