Day 599 - February 4 - "Station 51, Station 51"

This morning as I was reading my Bible, Cherié bolted out of bed, urgently whispering "We've got a house fire! Something's burning!" In my usual dull way, I sniffed the air and couldn't smell anything, but we got up and started doing that "wander around with your nose in the air" thing. I checked the coffee pot - nothing. I still couldn't smell anything, but when we opened the door and snuck into Connor's room (it was about 0530), she was right - NOW I could smell it too - burning plastic. All the senses slammed into overdrive and we started scrambling around, trying to locate the source. As Cherié checked the life support equipment in the corner, I moved to check the fan next to the window, and soon discovered it was coming from outside. I went out front to check the house, and could clearly see a cloud of smoke rising from a few blocks away, lit intermittently with flashing red and blue lights. Sadly, my first thought was "whew, it's not us", followed quickly by the recognition that somebody else was suffering, and a quick prayer before I went back inside and told Cherié. Thankful that it wasn't our house, we went back outside, and that's when we realized we hadn't heard any sirens. Cherié, having been a firefighter before, looked at the smoke and declared "There's no suppression - where's the fire department?" She can tell stuff like that from looking at the smoke, but she was right - it didn't look like the FD was on scene yet, which was odd because A) it seemed like there were police at the scene (because of the flashing lights), and you'd think they would have called it in; and B) there's a fire station about a block from the fire's location.

When we did hear the fire sirens a few minutes later, they were coming from farther away and the other direction than the fire house, which I guess means that "our" station was out on another call somewhere and a different station had to respond to this one. But I can imagine the frustration of the people who own the burning property as they waited for the intervention necessary to deal with their crisis.

Here's the weird thing - we never went in and called 911. We made a bunch of assumptions, but we had no way of knowing if those assumptions were true - "the police are already there"; "somebody else must have called it in already"; and because of those assumptions we never contacted the people set in place just for situations like theirs. We left them to their fate on some strange thought of "somebody else is doing it so we don't have to". No, we didn't put it into words like that - but that's the end result. Pretty pathetic, isn't it? To not act, and then to try to justify my inaction by saying "well, I prayed for them" is a sad testimony to my state of spiritual maturity.

Connor and Cherié had a better day of it yesterday, and last night seemed to go pretty good as well. Thank you for keeping us in your prayers - not just for our day-to-day existence, but especially for your continued prayer and belief that God can, and will, intervene and restore the boy to full health. Nothing is impossible with God. Nothing. Please believe that, and wait with us to see God glorify Himself.

E.

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