It happened in seconds. It felt like years. My finger fumbled around for centuries before I could dial the right numbers: 911. The flames completely had engulfed every part of our kitchen. I could see the smoke pouring out of our garage and leaking through the roof.
This is not happening. This kind of thing does not happen in real life, not to us!
But isn’t that the thought that always enters our minds when tragedy strikes?
November 26, 2013, exactly six months after we’d closed on our first home, my husband, baby daughter and I lost our home and nearly everything in it to a horrible house fire. It has taken me years (and is still a work in progress) to come to terms with the fact that the fire was not anyone’s fault. That bad things just happen sometimes. That God was not punishing me.
And that I don’t have to live in constant fear.
These next five posts depict my story.
The story of how I lost hope in my God, how I struggled, and how He instilled New Hope in me again. My story is for any one who feels like shattered glass. My story is for any mommy who feels guilty about leaving her babies at home while working full time. My story is for parents who work at home, juggling a million things at once. My story is for any person who has ever felt firsthand the harrowing emptiness of depression. My story is for the anxiety-ridden, whose body is buckling under worry. My story is for those who have found Hope in Christ Jesus. My story is for those who are looking for one small victory, one small inspiration, just one reason to hope.
My story is for you.
Won’t you join me?