The Year of the Fire

One of these days I'm going to figure out how to upload pics from my phone onto the blog.  Until then, this post will remain a picture-less journal entry.

This entire summer has been...intense, for lack of better words.  After an exhausting move, and a long (yet fun) roadtrip to Texas, I was already spent, but still looking forward to a month away with my family. 

The night before I was supposed to leave for Idaho, my sister called me in a total panic because the mountain where my parent's had just built their brand new house was up in flames.  I tried brushing it off initially, but after checking the news online, quickly realized the doom that this fire brought.  By the time I had checked, seven homes had already been completely destroyed, but there was no way to know who the homes belonged to.  As the night progressed, the house count went up and I felt like I was going to puke.  My parents invested so much time and money in this home and literally paid the very last landscape bill THAT very morning.  I couldn't handle the idea that they were going to lose it the same day.  Of course, I also couldn't handle the idea that ANYONE was losing their homes that day, it was just plain devastating. 

The next day I sat by my phone not having any idea whether we were going or staying.  Finally my mom had gotten news that their house was standing, but they had no idea what condition it was in.  So, taking a huge leap of faith, I loaded up our stuff and went to the airport.

Can I just say that the Newark airport can kiss it.  What an organized mess!  I hauled three bags and two kids through three levels, and five different counters before FINALLY being guided to where I needed to go.  I was even scolded (not helped) but an airport worker for trying to take my kids and bags down an escalator after discovering that their elevators weren't working.  Add to that that one of my kids peed their pants on the flight and I threw up four times, and it's safe to say that it wasn't the best flight of my life.

I arrived to SLC with the news that the house was still standing and in liveable condition, with the exception of three of the bedrooms in the same corner of the house, one upstairs, and two downstairs.  The fireman actually chopped a huge hole in the side of the house to prevent the house from imploding, the pressure of the fire was that great.  And, as would be expected, there was a heavy smoke odor. 

Seeing the burn, after knowing how beautiful the mountain had once been, was tragic.  My parent's home was completely surrounded by burn, it really was a wonder that it wasn't taken like so many other homes. 

Well, to keep a long story from getting any longer, we were displaced for about two weeks.  Initially we thought we'd be able to move right back in once they opened the mountain up, but unbeknownst to us, it's unsafe to stay in a home that was just surrounded by flames and smoke.  Who knew.  So we stayed in a cabin in Lava for a week, then in a hotel for another week.  It was exhausting to pack and repack, something I did probably six or seven times.  Not nearly exhausting for my parents though, who had to face, once again, months of construction on their brand new home.  Needless to say, emotions ran strong, but I think we all did pretty well considering.

The Sunday after the fire, their ward had an emergency Sacrament Meeting with a luncheon afterward.  It happened to be testimony meeting, and what a powerful meeting that was.  The majority of the members had lost their homes (over 50 homes lost, I believe).  Talk about a strong and faithful group of people.  I pretty much bawled the entire time.  I can't imagine losing everything so abruptly, pictures, documents, clothes, sentimental items. 

Fortunately, we still managed to have a good month, and did a lot of fun things.  I'll get to that...