Is God in the Fire?

Bill and I experienced our first wildfire in November.
 
We never dreamed it would be on our property.

Three lights: Fire, sunset, porch light

With dear out-of-town friends visiting, we decided to spend a Monday night at our country cottage on Whisper Woods Lake. It’s only 35 minutes from our house but a world away from the city. They planned to make homemade pasta. We were excited. As we neared our place at about 4:30 p.m., I wondered why sunset was so early as I saw a smoky orange haze in the sky

My first thought was who strung white Christmas lights through the woods across from our small lake? Did someone pour a line of gasoline and light it? It took a minute to realize this was a real forest fire.
 
Grabbing buckets, we ran towards it. We tried dousing the flames with lake water. That was like trying to control an anthill by stomping on it. We saw the fire advancing in lines and patches of flames throughout the woods.
 
We called 911 and kenneled our dogs.
 
Our property is so rural I had to drive to the main county road (dodging abandoned mobile homes) so I could open the gate, wait for the volunteer fire department, flag them down, and lead them to the fire. The fire engine couldn’t make it down our narrow dirt access road so the chief followed me in his pickup truck. When he saw the extent of the fire, he realized it wasn’t just some suburban woman overreacting. Click here to see the video Paul Valerio took. 
 
The sheriff came and flew a huge drone over the woods and estimated the fire was affecting about 50 acres on three different properties. Volunteer fire fighters with water backpacks couldn’t begin to contain it. They called in the Wildfire Unit of the Alabama Forestry Commission. By then it was dark. How they got the huge bulldozer down to our property I’ll never know. They started plowing through the woods to create a firebreak.

As the sun set, the woods glowed red and reflected in the water.  It was awesome, awful, beautiful, and eerie all at the same time.  It was like a scene from The Lord of the Rings with the red eye of Mordor throbbing right there in Vincent, Alabama.

All I could do was stay out of the way, take photos, and pray.
 
O God, please don’t let anyone be hurt. The firefighters with their water packs, shovels, and axes. Neighbors whizzing around on four-wheelers in the dark. Our friends watering the ground around our cottage.
 
O God, spare our cottage and our neighbor’s structures. Please don’t let the fire reach the gas line that runs close to our property (imagining a cinema-worthy BOOM!)
 
O Lord, bring rain. Most of the state of Alabama was in a month-long drought, tinder dry, and under fire bans. (They think the fire started from a neighbor’s weekend campfire.)
 
After they determined the bulldozer stopped the fire from advancing, the fire chief felt it was safe to let the rest of the fire die out as it reached the water’s edge. Everyone left sooty and tired, but unharmed and satisfied. We celebrated with a very late dinner, pondering what just happened.
 
 We woke the next morning to the smell of lingering smoke and the sound of gentle rain, although there had been only a 30 percent chance of precipitation. Our friends left to return to Georgia. Bill and I tramped through the blackened woods seeing flaming potholes where the fatwood resin in the tree stumps kept burning. It felt like another scene from The Lord of Rings with columns of smoke in a blackened landscape rising around us. Even two weeks later, trees continued to smoke and burn internally.

To the world, it might have looked like an effective controlled burn. But I knew God controlled that fire.
 
It is ironic that our vision for our Whisper Woods Lake property is based on 1 Kings 19. The prophet Elijah, weary and confused after battling the evil Queen Jezebel, crawls under a broom tree to sleep, eat, whine, and try to hear from God. After he rested, this is what he heard:
 
“Go, stand on the mountain at attention before God. God will pass by. A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn’t to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn’t in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn’t in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper.” 1 Kings 19:11-12 MSG
 
What whisper did I hear from God after the fire?
 
I had been in a prayer drought for many months. What I had been believing was, “God works but maybe not for me.” I could see others whose prayers were answered but I was waiting and running low on faith, feeling alone and confused.
 
I was like whiny Elijah.  Crawling under the broom tree, wondering if I was the last one left on God’s team or if God had forgotten me.
 
In this spiritual as well as real 911 moment, I prayed and asked others to pray. And they did, believing for me. On the morning after the fire, I could sense God’s whisper as I heard the gentle rain, rain I had convinced myself by the weather app wouldn’t come.
 
I couldn’t get around God’s specific answers to our prayers:
 
I prayed no one would get hurt. No one was hurt.
 
I prayed that no structures would be harmed. The fire was contained to undeveloped land.
 
I prayed for rain. God sent the rain despite the meteorologists’ calculations.
 
He answered in ways I didn’t “think” of praying.
 
The fire chief pointed out that after weeks of low humidity, it was at 100 percent humidity that evening which kept the fire from leaping up into the crown of the trees.
 
We rarely go to our cottage on a Monday afternoon in November. We arrived “right on time” to get help. If we hadn’t, who knows how long it would have been until someone discovered the fire. 
 
Our neighbors came and helped us. I had been in despair over the huge divide in our nation in the weeks before the election. But in this emergency, there was no Red or Blue. There were just neighbors helping neighbors, asking for nothing in return.
 
Like with Elijah, God whispered that he was there in my confusion, isolation, and weariness. He heard and answered my prayers right on time. I was humbled by his grace and power to his unbelieving daughter.
 
In early January we saw green sprouts in the still-black ash along the trail.

Photo by Bill Carroll

It reminded me of Romans 15:13 in the Message:
 
Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!
 
He answered beyond my requests.
 
He was in the fire.
 
He was the whisper after the fire.
 
He is the God of green hope.
 
In my drought of unbelief, he whispered that I am not alone. He is with me. And he sent his reinforcements. 

Thank you to all who prayed and all who helped: Vincent Volunteer Fire Department, Harpersville Fire Department, Shelby County Sheriff’s Department, Alabama Forestry Commission Wildfire Unit, our Vincent neighbors, and our friends Paul Valerio and Elizabeth and Connor Butz who helped douse the fire and fed us pasta and left with good stories.
 

Put Yourself in the Path

Bill reserved a hotel room for April 7 in Fort Smith, Arkansas almost a year ago. Eight hours away. Because it was on the edge of The Path of Totality.

I wondered if that was a famous rock band.

No. It’s the last full solar eclipse in the United States until 2045. Hotels closer to us in “The Path” had already sold out. As a photographer, Bill started buying special filters, borrowing cameras and tripods, and researching f-stops and time lapses.

I wondered what there was to do and eat in Fort Smith.

We don’t usually plan anything that far in advance. But when you reach our age, if you’re going to do something, you can’t wait until the “next time,” especially if it’s 21 years away. I was glad Bill researched so I could just go along for the ride wearing an awkward shoulder wedge sling after shattering my shoulder.

Would 16 hours on the road, wounded and weary, be worth it?

People tried to describe the difference between being in a partial and total eclipse. Annie Dillard wrote, “Seeing a partial eclipse bears about the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane.”

I tried to stay open-minded.

On our way, we found a room in Little Rock. It cut off two hours of our drive. Other people on the hotel elevator whispered to us, “Are you here for the eclipse, too?”

So, maybe it really was a thing.

Bill figured out the best places in the area to see the eclipse. Two key factors: a wide view of the sky and access to bathrooms. The next morning, in a quiet park on the Arkansas River, Bill set up three cameras on tripods. At 9:30 a.m. there was one other car. The eclipse would begin about 12:30 p.m. and hit totality at 1:52 p.m.

By 1:30 p.m. it looked like a low-key SEC tailgate party.

Almost every parking space was filled. People set out camp chairs, cranked up music, and passed around snacks. Kids played tag. Parents scrolled on their phones. 

Bill handed me mylar eclipse sunglasses (much better than the flimsy paper ones below). I put them on. The world went dark. I could see nothing except the sun. At 12:30 p.m. I noticed the slightest dent on the lower right side of the full circle of the sun. By 1 p.m. it looked like a pitted olive. At 1:30 p.m., a crescent moon. By 1:40, the sun looked like a thin toenail clipping.

But as I took off my glasses and looked around the park, everything appeared the same. The sun was that strong. If I didn’t know what was happening, I’d wonder why people were looking up at the sky in those weird glasses.

But then, at about 1:50, with more than 97 percent of the sun blocked, the light changed. It was like looking into a fish tank with an eerie green-gray thick algae glow. The street lamps popped on. The air cooled. The birds settled. The crickets chirped. The sky turned deep indigo blue. Cheers, gasps, and claps erupted in ripples up and down the riverbank. I took off my glasses, looked up, and nearly dropped to my knees.

My eyes welled with tears.

The moon won, sliding over the sun, and locking a lid on it. Then in a few seconds, I saw the perfect circle halo glow. Almost as quickly, the sun glinted out the other side, like a glittering diamond ring.

I looked around. Sunset glowed along the edges of every horizon. Burnt orange flames along the edges of the world with the rest of the sky a deepening cobalt blue bowl with a pulsating white ring at the top. (Here's a Facebook link to an image from Brandon Bodendorfer who recorded the 360-degree sunset.)

The drama only lasted 2.5 minutes.

Then the lights flipped back on. Street lamps turned off. Birds flew. Some people stood in a daze. Most started packing up. A woman next to us looked at her watch.

“We’d better go. The restaurants will be packed.”

All eclipse photos by Bill Carroll

We kept watching through our eclipse glasses as the moon slid off the sun for the next 45 minutes with the same half-moon shapes in the opposite direction. Then we packed the gear and drove home through hours of eclipse traffic all converging on the bridge over the Mississippi River in Memphis.

Had it been real?
 
We had the photos to prove it. If not, even though I had been there, I may have doubted it. My too-distracted life with its all-important to-do’s may have tried to check it off or box it in. I’m glad we made it an “event,” and we let ourselves pause and experience it.
 
It was worth it.
 
But it made me think. What other holy moments have I missed or dismissed?  How can I let myself be awed by our supernatural universe? There’s not much time left to put myself in the path of wonder. Maybe I need to create an "awe-some" app to schedule and record those moments, especially the simple ones close by. Take wonder walks with my macro-lens camera. Clap at sunsets. Breathe in fresh basil. Relish every bite of warm chocolate chip cookies. Listen to baby giggles. Play with golden retrievers.

Don't wait until the next time. 
 
When have you experienced a moment of awe or wonder that took your breath away or changed you? How will you put yourself in the path?

Ruminating on Ruminating

I learned a new word. 

Perseverate. 
 
To repeat something insistently or redundantly. To get stuck, to ruminate, to loop back over and over. And over.
 
As in, “My 91-year-old mother perseverated.” 
 
My mom passed away a year ago. But I’m still haunted by echoes of her three looping ruminations. And my robotic responses. 
 
“I’m going blind.” 
 
“I’m so sorry you have blurry vision, Mom. But all your eye sub-specialists have told us you have one healthy eye and you’re not going blind. No matter what, we will take care of you.”
 
“I guess I’ll eat that and get fat. I used to watch my weight, but I just don’t care anymore.”
 
“Mom, remember the doctor ordered you to gain weight because you were way too thin and it was bad for your health and brain. You’re still so tiny but I’m glad you’re healthier.”
 
“It is hell getting old. Why doesn’t God just take me now?”
 
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know it’s hard, but we’re glad you’re here with us.”
 
It’s like a broken record in an alternate universe. When you say this, I say this. 
 
Over and over and over again. 

Those perseverations crushed me. There was nothing I could do to help her. 
 
It makes me wonder what I will perseverate about in a few years. 
 
It’s in my DNA. I too deal with doubts, cynicism, negative self-image, and fears for my health, family, and aging. My unfiltered ruminations will be filled with apologies and worries. 
 
“I am so sorry for taking all your time and causing you all this trouble.”
“Are you okay? Have I made you angry?”
“How are my kids? Are they safe?”
 
I had lots of time to observe the different personalities in Mom's retirement village. Everybody has customized ruts. I’m trying to re-groove my brain now so when it inevitably falls into ruts, they will be these: 
 
Gratitude 
To rearrange my DNA of gloom and doom, I keep a daily gratitude journal and snap iPhone photos of small happies. I try to express thanks in concrete ways to people around me. I say “I love you” whenever I can (a tiny bit less enthusiastically than Buddy the Elf). I picture myself in the nursing home with the staff saying, “Watch out, here comes the hugger.”
 
Wonder 
I fear bitterness more than blindness. Even as my eyesight fails, I want to live in wonder. To pay attention, clap at all the small, beautiful details in creation, and embed the truth of God’s steadfast love deep in my soul. as I face the unavoidable suffering, The nursing home staff will roll their eyes and point at me, “There’s that crazy lady clapping at a caterpillar again.” 
 
Compassionate Curiosity
I want to know people’s stories, not to be intrusive, but to understand and connect. I want to keep asking “after them,” and find ways to affirm them. The folks caring for me will be disappointed if I don’t ask, “How can I pray for you?” 
 
JESUS
I want to end up like the joke about the Sunday School answer. It’s always Jesus. I have been around old saints who weep as they whisper the name of Jesus. O Lord, help me to love you more and more. 
 
Ruminating and perseverating about Jesus? That gives me hope as I age. Because each day it means I'm one day closer to home.
 
And I too will be saying, “O Lord, take me now!”
 
Many of you also care for aging parents or perseverating “loopers.” It’s hard. Maybe like me, it surfaces all sorts of fears of what it will be like when you reach that stage. May God be with you. 
 
If it’s inevitable that we will end up in a rut of rumination, what do you want to ruminate on?

Recalibrating Practices: How Will You G-R-O-W? Practice Resilience

Every year I pick a word to recalibrate me. But, as a woman flooded with words, it’s swollen in the past years to an acronym:

G-R-O-W.

Gratitude. Resilience. Obedience. Wonder.

(In 2021, I’m making it G-R-O-W-L because we all need some laughter. Every day.)

These words guide my “rule of life,” a spiritual practice that helps set a sacred pace and path for life’s journey. (More on developing a “rule of life” in an upcoming newsletter.)

In my last post, I focused on gratitude. 

Now it’s time for resilience. If I want to keep following this wandering and winding path of writing, leading a non-profit arts organization, and “soul tending,” I need to be resilient.

What is resilience?

“Psychologists define resilience as the process of adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats, or significant sources of stress—such as family and relationship problems, serious health problems, or workplace and financial stressors. As much as resilience involves ‘bouncing back’ from these difficult experiences, it can also involve profound personal growth.” (American Psychological Association)

Resilience is the willow tree of attributes. It flexes, stretches, and bends. The winds blow, failure hits, rejection hurts , loss and grief and disappointment happen. I can break, give up, or sway in the breeze and sink my roots deeper into God.

Resilience is in my genes. My dad survived three different kinds of cancers, hepatitis C, and heart disease for three decades before dying at 88. He wanted to be with his grandkids that much. After my dad passed away, my mom resisted leaving her beloved Amelia Island. When it became clear she needed to move close to me, she grumbled but flexed. A few weeks after settling into Birmingham, she suffered a massive stroke. She recovered most of what she lost by being the model patient for her physical, speech, and occupational therapists.

Then COVID-19 hit.

She went into lockdown and her recovery slowed. She lost the sight of her left eye through the stroke and the sight in her right eye became blurrier which made reading more difficult. We went to nearly every eye subspecialist in Birmingham and she put our saint of an optometrist on speed dial. She was convinced if she only got thicker lenses for her eyeglasses, she could read again. When it finally sunk in that it was macular degeneration and not a faulty prescription, she nearly gave up.

But she didn’t.

Once she accepted that her eyesight wouldn’t improve, she began listening to the rehabilitation specialists who gave her tools to adapt and keep on reading. It’s not what she wants. But she has grit and is trying to learn new technology. Accept. Adapt. Endure. Hope.

I wish I could “inherit” resilience without experiencing the suffering and enduring and changing that goes with it. But it doesn’t work that way.

So, how do we build resilience into our souls?

Recalibrate

No path to our eternal home is linear. That road is filled with roadblocks, detours, and delays. We can train ourselves to keep turning our eyes back to Jesus who is the way (our direction), the truth (our destination), the life (our desire). We remember where we’re going and why it’s worth it. We acknowledge the reality that this path we’re on is a broken road and filled with suffering.

 So, no wonder we don’t give up. For even though our outer person gradually wears out, our inner being is renewed every single day. We view our slight, short-lived troubles in the light of eternity. We see our difficulties as the substance that produces for us an eternal, weighty glory far beyond all comparison. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 TPT

Build Endurance

Scripture is essential to resilience. The Bible speaks of enduring with hope and reminds us of God’s faithfulness to those who’ve passed before us. More than anything, it shows us the resilient joy of Jesus and what he endured on our behalf.

For all those words which were written long ago are meant to teach us today; that when we read in the scriptures of the endurance of men and of all the help that God gave them in those days, we may be encouraged to go on hoping in our own time. Romans 15:14 Phillips

Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls! Hebrews 12:1-3 The Message

Find Community

Make it a priority to plant yourself in life-giving, mutual relationships. A community of people where you can laugh and weep together. Where you will ask for help. Seek a church which focuses on grace and vulnerability and accepts that everyone is on a broken road together.

Think of the Alternative

What if you stay stuck, go numb, or give up? You may need to adjust your goals. Maybe you’re past parachuting, winning the Olympics, or running for governor. But you’re not past the desire to try new adventures or impact your world. Think of resilience as buoyancy in the storm with Jesus as your anchor.

Here’s what I’ve learned through it all: Don’t give up; don’t be impatient; be entwined as one with the Lord. Be brave and courageous, and never lose hope. Yes, keep on waiting—for he will never disappoint you! Psalm 27:14 TPT

Remember Who Will Never Let You Go

Here’s the best news of all. God will never ever let you go. So, hang on, knowing his grip on you is sure and forever. He is the God who holds you. That’ll give you the courage to keep taking those wobbly baby steps of resilience on your way home.

I give to them the gift of eternal life and they will never be lost and no one has the power to snatch them out of my hands. My Father, who has given them to me as his gift, is the mightiest of all, and no one has the power to snatch them from my Father’s care. John 10:28-29 TPT

One definition of resilience is about the power of an object (or person) to return to its original form or purpose after being bent, compressed, crushed, or stretched. Jesus was crushed for us and we are assured that God will restore us to our intended shape and purpose in Him.  

God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun. Romans 8:29-30 The Message

 Link here to read practical ways to build resilience into your life. Link here to listen to the resilient truth that God will never let us go.