"At least no one died"...

When our house was destroyed by fire on November 21st, people said, "At least no one died, and you can replace 'things'". But the reality is, a part of us did die. And every day we spend trying to be strong, pretending that because we have homeowners' insurance, everything will be ok, someone tells us it's not. Each day, we try to take it one step at a time. We waited for a rental property to become available, and we stayed strong, keeping our dog and daughters feeling safe in a hotel for the first month. We stayed strong while our kids broke down so they could find their peace as their childhood memories (and shoes) went up in flames.

Shoes and 'things' may seem insignificant to you, but they were a great loss to our family.

The fact that our home was 135 years old was so much of the charm we fell in love with.

Our first Christmas tree blew a fuse (or two) when we plugged in the lights. Those fuses will not likely ever blow again once the new construction is done. And you might say, well, it will be a safer house now, without knob and tube wiring, but for us, that moment is what made this house our home, and the minor inconvenience of the occasional fuses blowing was part of its charm. The doorknob that fell off every time someone opened the front door was our version of the 'finial' from the old house of Mary & George in "It's a Wonderful Life". The kids would tell their friends, "My mom's gonna be so mad..."! The look on their friends' faces, the laughter, these moments forever lost. Now we will have a different door, a more modernized doorknob, and that moment is now gone. Moments that, as we remember them, can never come back. Moments that sit in the ashes and a pile of bricks.

We stayed strong and pretended that the community of friends was enough. We trusted too many and believed things would move along smoothly, and that we would be ready to move back into our home. A more Victorian-style looking home, despite the walls becoming drywall instead of plaster. Despite the wood floor inlay, we'll have a much simpler wooden floor, but we stayed strong, knowing the house would never be the same, as we anxiously await what it will become.

But today, pretending to be strong is not enough. Today, there are letters telling us we need to vacate the rental by mid-June. Today, we are trying to figure out all the insurance. Today, we are trying to figure out the mortgage company that was sold and how this will affect the future checks we receive. Just another delay because we seem to be the only ones who want to move fast. Today, we wait for our permits so our contractors can begin rebuilding this new home, which I'm not even sure will ever feel like 'our home' again.

Today, I can't be strong.

We stayed strong until now because that is what we are expected to do. Remember: "no one died, and things can be replaced." But as the church is demolished, and as the back end of our home crumbles, so does our spirit, our strength, and sadness is moving in suddenly like a hurricane. When our house was burnt down in November, so many came, hugged us, and said, "Thank goodness no one died," but a part of me thinks that had someone died, we'd have answers.

No one told us that so many "things" can't be replaced, things we can never bring back, things that one day will blow away like the ashes left behind.

No one told us how to hold it together a few weeks after the fire when our children fell apart. No one came to tell us that the worst is just beginning, and no one told us how to prepare for it. No one told us that the money would likely not be enough. And while we know that the church, even though empty, held a lot of memories for people in our community, no one wants to talk about the home that we lost. The memories that are now melted into the pile of rubble that sits waiting to be cleared. Who is going to tell the story when we are gone? When the new homes are built, new families arrive, and the ashes are long gone. Why did our story end so quickly?

These past few weeks have been the hardest. Trying to get everything in order, knowing that the church demolition is a process, as is everything, yet we seem to be the only people who understand that things like this are not instant. While we live in a world of instant, when it's time to discuss or do the hard things, we wait, and wait, and wait. The insurance company doesn't care about all the stress. They don't care enough to return calls, and we are left in limbo. When contractors tell us things are moving along as they should, but the insurance company says it isn't fast enough! When the only people who seem to understand the process are us. No one prepares you for any of this. No one prepares you for the arguments with family because you are just so tired and frustrated. No one prepares you for the hurt, the tears, the pain. So, when you think that we should be grateful that no one was hurt and that things can be replaced, remember this post.

I chose this picture specifically. Can you see what I see?

We are often told that God only gives you what you can handle. Many have told me how strong I am, but right now, right now, I don't feel strong. I feel like there is no other choice for me but to wake up and keep doing what needs to be done. No one told us how lonely this time in our lives would feel. How empty inside we would feel. How afraid.

When our house is rebuilt, when it is shiny and new, will we want to even be there? Sadly, we have to be there. As many know, this housing market is crazy, and our home is unlikely ever to recoup the amount of money we will be putting into it. But I guess I should be glad that "things can be replaced, and no one died."

No one wants to talk about us, our house that was lost so senslessly. But because the church held so many memories for our community, it was and remains everyone's focus. The church was empty, waiting for someone to come along and love it. Empty except for the people who chose to make choices that would burn it down.

Our house was not empty. It was loved and, after years of abandonment, became our family's home. But our story, no one talks about. In today's world, we don't point fingers or do anything that might offend anyone, because when we do, we become the "bad" people. No one prepared us for the questions that seem simple to us, but never get answered. There are no laws that care enough.

No one told us how much this all would hurt as each brick is removed from the church and a little more of our house crumbles. But thank goodness "things can be replaced"...