Tempered by Fire (Story)

Of late, the sad news of the New Mexico/Colorado fires crosses all streams of media. There are literally hundreds of homes destroyed and thousands of people now homeless...

Yesterday, I found a website (Samaritan's Purse) with story and pictures of the recovery efforts already underway.

There was a photo in their story, though, of a woman holding up an intact ceramic figurine that survived the fire when there was nothing but ash and charred remains around her.

Yet on her face, there is this smile as she presents what she found.

This brought to mind another story, which I would like to share with my readers now. This was a story I heard on the radio back in 2009.

Tempered by Fire

A firefighter was going through a house that was completely destroyed by fire. Sifting through the warm ash, his fingers found these white ceramic figurines.

All it took was lightly dusting the ash from them, and they shown bright and beautiful, practically the same as the day they arrived at the house.

Everything else was gone. 

Moved by what was found, he asked the homeowner if he could keep one.

Surprised and still in shock over all she had lost... the homeowner mutely nodded her assent.

A few days later, that firefighter was speaking with some of his friends who were going through a very difficult period in their life. One had lost a job, the other ill, their roof leaked and the bills just kept piling up.....

The firefighter pulled the white ceramic figurine from his pocket and held it up for them to see. He explained how he came to find it. Then, he explained why it meant so much to him. 

"This was tempered in fire before it was ever brought into that house. While everything else in that house was destroyed by that terrible fire, these survived.

"If they hadn't gone through the fire first, they would have been destroyed."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes we need to go through touch times to become strong enough for even greater challenges in life that would otherwise destroy us completely.

-ESA

Tempered by Fire (Story)

I heard this story over the radio last year and it came to mind over the last few days, so I wanted to share it with my readers.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A firefighter was going through a house that was completely destroyed by fire.

Sifting through the warm ash, his fingers found these white ceramic pieces.


All it took was lightly dusting the ash from them, and the pieces shown bright and beautiful, practically the same as the day they arrived at the house.

Everything else was gone.


Moved by what he had found, he asked the homeowner if he could keep one.


Surprised and still in shock over all she had lost... the homeowner mutely nodded her assent.


A few days later, that firefighter was speaking with some of his friends who were going through a very difficult period in their life. One had lost a job, the other ill, their roof leaked and the bills just kept piling up.....


The firefighter pulled the white ceramic piece from his pocket and held it up for them to see.


He explained how he came to find it.


Then, he explained why it meant so much to him.


"This was tempered in fire before it was ever brought into that house. While everything else in that house was destroyed by that terrible fire, these pieces survived. If they hadn't gone through the fire first, they would have been destroyed."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes we need to go through one fire to become strong enough for even greater challenges in life that would otherwise destroy us completely.

-ESA

The SoCal Pigs (Story)

Once there were three little pigs who lived in beautiful southern California. Each decided they would build their homes to their own design.

The first pig decided to use local materials for his home. Once the grass had grown tall and turned a delightful golden brown, he harvested it from the nearby hills and wove it deftly into walls and roof. It was a pleasant little house, for it breathed with the gentle clime of the area, keeping off the occasional rain and plentiful sun. This pig lived happily in his house until the fall when the hot, dry Santa Anna winds howled down across the area. With the first few gusts, the little house scattered on the wind, leaving the first pig to watch his home disappear.

The second pig knew about the Santa Anna winds and he built his house of wood. He was in his home much earlier than the first pig, as he didn’t need to wait for the grass to grow. He listened to the occasional rain on his rooftop and stayed warm when the cool fog was long lifting. When summer came, his home was pleasantly cool as the breezes blowing from the ocean gently rocked the house and the roof eclipsed the hottest part of the day.

When the first pig lost his home to the Santa Anna winds, the second pig opened his door and called out to his neighbor, “Come into my home where it’s safe. For you see, I have built it better than yours. I have been here longer and my home is strong enough for all the seasons this fine land has to offer. I will let you stay here until you can build a better one for yourself too.”

So the two little pigs shared the little home and together they listened to the Santa Anna winds howl down from the mountains, swaying the wooden walls and rattling a few loose boards on the roof. But the house stood strong against the winds… until the brush fires broke out in the brush.

Day by day the two little pigs watched the news in dread as the fire lines moved closer and closer to their little home. One day the fateful knock came on the door – time to evacuate. Fighting back the tears and fears, the two took what they treasured most and left, still hoping that they would have a place to live when they returned.

The fire swept through the homes in the area, sparing none. The little wooden house’s walls and roof had grown dry through the summer and the fire licked the beams hungrily. In mere moments, the home was ablaze and then gone – ash blowing on the wind.

The third pig was saddened when he heard the news of his neighbors, and he opened his home to them, saying, “Stay with me a while until you can rebuild. Don’t fear the Santa Anna winds nor the fires that ride them. For you see, I read up on the weather in this area and prepared for it. Not only have I built my home of brick and stone and made my roof of clay tiles, I’ve also designed fire barriers around my property. No, the fires will not touch my house.”

Though crowded, the three pigs lived in the house of stone and watched the news closely. The fires continued to spread further and further. When the day that they had to evacuate, the third pig said, “I have confidence this house will survive.”

The fires raged, but the barriers slowed them down. Smoke billowed thick and blinding and darkened the gleaming white exterior. Tiles cracked and popped in the unyielding heat of the inferno… but the house stood.

The three pigs returned and scrubbed the smoke from the interior and exterior, glad they still had a home. The third pig was very proud of himself and his wisdom to research the clime before building. He instructed the other two pigs that when they rebuild they must use brick and stone as he had for surely that was the best way to build a home in that beautiful part of the world.

Through the mild winter months, the third pig continued to boast as he kept his home warm at night with his brick fireplace. The other two grew weary of this, but with nowhere else to live until they rebuilt in the spring, they had no choice.

In the early spring, the San Andreas fault shrugged its shoulders. The ground trembled beneath the little stone house, rattling the windows and dislodging loose items. The three pigs scrambled to flee, just as the clay tile roof fell.

When the gentle breeze came to lift the morning fog, it also cleared the dust in the air, giving them a good look at their home. Bricks and stone were scattered everywhere, not one wall remained standing. All their belongings were lost, crushed under the crumbled stone and heavy roof. As one the two pigs turned to the third and remarked, “You forgot about the earthquakes when you designed this home, didn’t you.”

The third pig just sat there mute, looking at the remains of his fine home. As his ego came crashing down, he swallowed his pride and turned to the other two. “It appears I have,” he grudgingly admitted.

They agreed then and there to collaborate and design a home together. The first pig provided insight about using local building materials. The second pig helped design a house that would give and sway without falling in high winds or earthquakes. The third pig put his knowledge of fire barriers to use, making this home as resistant to the fires as possible.

The year rolled through the seasons, summer followed spring and fall brought the Santa Anna winds on its tail. The new house rattled with the winds, but did not blow away. The fires came and the house survived with only some charring, which was easily repaired. That winter, the ground shifted again, and the house remained firmly upright.

At the end of that winter, the three little pigs rejoiced, they had survived a year and their combined efforts had seen them through it all. With the rain pattering down on their roof they felt secure and comfortable in their home.

And the rains continued to fall – heavily at times – day after day after day. The little pigs looked outside gloomily, wondering if they will ever see the sun that made that area a wonderful place to live. Then they felt the ground shift under their feet – just slightly. Thinking it was one of the local faults sending out a minor tremor, the little pigs just shrugged it off, confident their house would withstand it all.

The next morning, the shift was felt again – more prominent. When there was nothing reported on the news, they decided to visit with a friend who was a local seismologist. He checked the equipment and shrugged, there was nothing registering that they would perceive. He was a little concerned and suggested they have someone check into the ground stability.

Baffled, they drove back to their home only to find the way blocked. When the police officer walked up to the car window, he told them the road ahead was closed.

“But officer,” they argued as they showed their ID’s, “we live up there.”

He walked back to his fellows and they called over the man in charge. Then a small group walked back to the car, very somber. “You can’t get to your house, but we’ll let you go a little way in to survey the damage. We’ll escort you; then you have to leave.”

Pale-faced they followed the patrol car into the neighborhood. Fresh sandy soil washed in muddy cascades here and there. When the crested a neighboring hill, they saw their home – or where the house had once stood. It had slid down the hillside from where it once stood, the roofline and chimney the only parts visible above the river of mud that engulfed it.

They gathered at a nearby shelter, wondering what to do. Then an understanding came to them. Cooperation was how they survived everything else, but they lacked one thing – a good, solid foundation.

They tried together one more time and this time found a solid rocky ledge to build their house upon. Through cooperation and collaboration, they built themselves a fine home. The seasons spun in their annual dance, winds, fire, tremors and mudslides came and went and the house survived it all.

They still live there to this day.


- ESA

One Child's Inferno (True Story)

Yesterday, while visiting with family down in Virginia, a group of adults were trading stories about our childhood. When the topic came to running away, I had a funny story to tell...

--------------------------------------------------------

When I was about five years old, one of my brothers was a year behind me and another brother was a baby (my sister not yet born), my parents lived in this little house next to a vacant lot full of dry overgrown grass.

I was down in the basement; my brother and I were playing with play-dough pretending to bake it in the cold oven (as long as we didn't plug it in or turn it on). Then my nose caught the smell of something burning. I asked my brother if he smelled it too. He did and we checked to make sure it wasn't from the oven we were playing with.

Then the door at the top of the stairs burst open and my mother called down, "Kids! There's a fire! Get out of the house!"

I ran to the top the stairs and she grabbed my shoulder and turned me toward the front door. When I opened the front door, the flames shot quickly along the base of the dry hedges that bordered the property line between our tiny front yard and the vacant lot. With the tell-tale roar and crackle, the bushes when up - red and yellow flames flickering against the dark black plume of smoke rising behind them. That was enough to instill terror in a little five-year-old. So I ran!

My parents' little house was the first on a block that paralleled a highway (along our backyards), so while I was still too young to cross the street without someone, I could go a very long way (about 4 blocks) without crossing the street. With my little sneakers pounding the sidewalk, I ran!

Now I have been blessed with a great imagination since I was born, and sometimes that can be a curse as well. In my mind, there was this great inferno roaring around my parent's house, chasing me down this street. I envisioned my parent's house engulfed in flames and my family (who for some reason weren't running right behind me) were roasted alive in the ever-growing terror behind me.

About every three or four houses, I dropped to my knees and prayed to God, asking that He wouldn't let the fire get me and that He would keep my family safe. Then, imagination turned the warm breeze at my back that carried the scent of burning brush into something far more devastating, so I leapt to my feet and ran some more.

By the time I reached the end of the sidewalk at the intersection where I needed to cross the street to continue, I had tears running down my face, my hair was disheveled from constantly turning around to see if the fire was catching up to me.

As I walked those last few feet, too afraid to stop and kneel lest the fire catch me, I prayed, "God, I'm reaching the end of the block, now. I can't cross the street. Mommy and Daddy won't let me. I don't know what to do. Please help me."

Then I heard a very loud voice call out, "Tara?"

I jumped, startled out of my wits! Then I looked up and incredulously asked, "God....?"

The voice came again, even louder, "Tara?" It was clearly behind me.

I turned around -- slowly -- and spied a police car in the road beside me, the officer inside had the mic to the loudspeaker in his hand. "Are you Tara?"

I nodded. He pulled the car closer to the curb and opened the passenger side door for me. "Hop in, your mother sent me looking for you."

Chagrined, I got in the front seat of the police car (my grandfather was a NYC sergeant at the time, so it wasn't that strange a situation to me), and he drove me back down the four blocks.

When we got there, my mother was standing on the still-green front lawn before an untouched house with my two brothers - one was laughing at me. :P We only lost the hedge and a tree at the border and the neighboring lot was charred completely and smelt of brushsmoke for weeks after, but all was safe.

-------------------------------------------------------

As I finished telling this story, I looked around at my audience and noticed that it wasn't just the fellow adults who were standing in rapt attention to the story, but nearly a dozen kids were also there, listening to my every word.

When I woke up this morning, I realized that telling that story did more than just bring a few laughs to the gathering of family and friends; the kids there learned, by way of example, that it was OK to pray to God about anything and that they could trust God with their worries, even if it was something silly in the end....

- ESA

Tempered by Fire (Story)

One of the DJ's at WGTS just shared this wonderful story.

A firefighter was going through a house that was completely destroyed by fire. Sifting through the warm ash, his fingers found these white ceramic pieces. All it took was lightly dusting the ash from them, and the pieces shown bright and beautiful, practically the same as the day they arrived at the house. Everything else was gone.

Later, when that firefighter spoke with friends who were going through a very period in their life, he pulled a white ceramic piece from his pocket and explained how he came to find it. Holding it up, he explained, "This was tempered in fire before it was ever brought into that house. While everything else in that house was destroyed by that terrible fire, these pieces survived. If they hadn't gone through the fire first, they would have been destroyed."

Sometimes we need to go through one fire to become strong enough for even greater challenges in life that would otherwise destroy us completely.

- ESA