It was about 8:00 on a cold November night when my five-year-old son came into my bedroom to tell me his room was on fire.

My husband was still at work, but my four children and I immediately sprang into action. My five-year-old was safe and unharmed, so I sent the kids outside to the car (well away from the house) with their coats over their pajamas, and asked my oldest son to call the fire department while I tried to put out the fire. But it was spreading quickly around the bed and up the walls . . . one small bucket of water did nothing! I knew it was time to just get out.

With the fire roaring now, we huddled in the car. We watched as the heat blew out the front window and, seconds later, the skylight. As the flames reached toward the sky, we heard the sirens of the fire trucks coming down the road.

In a way, that’s where the blessing began. The material picture suggested that an accident, a mistake, had occurred, and that we would lose everything as a result. But God knew our need before we did.

Our town is small, and at that point in time, about 20 years ago, it had only a volunteer fire department. Usually when a call came in, all the firemen would rush to the station, and then the trucks would leave. That night, however, they had all been there already, running through practice drills, so they were able to leave instantly. We live about one mile from the fire station, so they arrived soon after the call came in.

Once the firemen knew no one else was inside, they encouraged us to walk next door to our neighbors’ house. This was before cellphones, so I asked to use our neighbors’ phone and called a Christian Science practitioner. The first words out of my mouth were a panicky, “My house is on fire!” I can’t remember quite what he said at first, but I didn’t feel that he had grasped the seriousness of the situation, so I repeated, “No, you don’t understand. It’s burning right now!” The practitioner calmly said he would pray, and offered this statement, a partial quote from John 14:2: “In my Father’s house are many mansions.” It seemed like an odd idea to me at the time, but it was a statement of truth and another example of the healing Christ, God’s expression in action, meeting our needs and being present before I even recognized it. With my permission, the practitioner also called another couple from our church who lived in town, so that they might offer some clothes and other essentials.

Within about an hour, the firefighters were able to put out the fire. They had gotten there fast enough to save the first floor and much of the contents, but the second floor was pretty much a loss. The anger, darkness, and overwhelming drama of the night dominated my thought. I wondered, Why us—why now? And most of all, How did the fire start? Could my little five-year-old really have been responsible? What if he hadn’t come out of the room, but instead had hid in the closet?

“Many mansions?” Try “many questions”!

But out of the darkness came the dawn and the light, the quiet and comfort of prayer.

We were able to get situated at a friend’s house in town the next day so the children could continue with school. But Thanksgiving was the next week, and we wanted to be out of our friend’s house by Tuesday so as not to be underfoot. That gave us less than one week to find a place, gather food and clothes, and possibly rent furniture . . . for a family of six and a brand-new kitten (who had also survived the fire). The enormousness of this task overwhelmed me at first.

At that time, I was relatively new to Christian Science. I had discovered it about two years earlier when I was healed of a serious medical condition, and I hadn’t looked back since. I was so full of gratitude for that healing—but this fire seemed like a setback! I was overwhelmed with gratitude that no one had been hurt in the fire, but I was also angry and mystified. I wasn’t seeing the opportunity for growth. But it came.

If I was having a hard time going to sleep, I would think of something to be grateful for, one for every little window in the bedroom.

One important starting place was to erase the feelings of anger that a mistake had been made, one which resulted in a devastating loss. Several nights later, my young son tearfully admitted that he had inadvertently started the fire by playing with matches in his room. One can only imagine the guilt he felt at having done this—and it didn’t help that the older two children, who had lost their special possessions, were very angry with him. But the healing came. No one in the family cross-examined my son, and I never blamed him. Instead, I spoke with him about our love for him, and told him we would all see blessings going forward. And what’s more, I said, God loved him. I knew that God cherished my son’s innocence; God wasn’t a distant authority figure judging him or condemning him for a mistake. My son had the ability to feel loved and cared for by his Father-Mother, just as we all did.

We also felt that a visit to the practitioner would complete the healing, and it did. Very soon, the idea that an irreversible mistake had been made just faded away. The error was totally erased, as the family—including our son—recognized that God was blessing us and that we couldn’t be stuck rehearsing the past.

Another important point was praying about “place.” There was extensive damage to our house, and rebuilding would take at least six months to a year. We needed a place to live. But unlike in today’s market, houses for sale in our town were a rarity. If one came on the market, it was usually snatched up immediately. I called a real estate agent, but no homes were on the market for rent. Not one.

As I prayed, I recognized that my family and I couldn’t be “dis-placed,” or out of God’s care for a moment. I knew that a healing is complete in every direction. In other words, as this opportunity to prove the power of prayer in our lives continued to unfold, we could expect to experience continuity and regeneration in all areas. God’s angel messages wouldn’t be there to keep us safe, and then absent when we needed a place to live. It wasn’t “asking amiss” to expect to be able to continue with our jobs, our lives, and our children’s schooling. I saw that a healing had to come with all the components, not just some of them.

With that, I was led to call a friend who was just starting out in the real estate business. She knew of two houses in our town that were empty and immediately available. They weren’t on any official real estate listing—she just knew about them. And our insurance would cover the cost of the rent.

We moved in one week after the fire. High on a hill, the house had four bedrooms, a state-of-the-art kitchen, and a ballroom with a huge round top window. A ballroom and a beautiful view!—it was a mansion to us. I remember calling the practitioner, saying, “You were right—my Father’s house does have many mansions!” Our new bedroom had a big picture window with a grid that made it look like many tiny windows. If I was having a hard time going to sleep, grappling with the scary images of that night of the fire, I would think of something to be grateful for, one for every little window in the bedroom—and then I would drift off to sleep.

The firemen had told us that all the salvaged clothes and items on the second floor of our burned house would have to be thrown away: “These things will always smell like smoke. Don’t bother to try to save them.” But as I kept praying, I was so clearly reminded of the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They came out of the fiery furnace unharmed: “Nor was an hair of their head singed, neither were their coats changed, nor the smell of fire had passed on them” (Daniel 3:27). Trusting God’s direction, I washed our things and found that they were soon as good as new. It was as though the “error” of that night was truly washed away with the soap suds.

Thanksgiving found our family very thankful for our new surroundings, and for the generosity of people in town, and families who knew of our situation and had sent us supplies. We began with the task of rebuilding while keeping our jobs and the children’s lives as normal as possible. And as Christmas came upon us, we felt inspired to celebrate our situation, our gratitude, and our joy. Good was everywhere—not mistakes or loss—and I could see that from out of that window on top of the hill during the day or night.

A year later, we were happily back in our house. In the construction, we had even been able to redo the second floor with a new floor plan that was insulated properly and better suited to our family. God’s provision of good was always present, always forthcoming.

When I think back on this experience, it reminds me of Mary Baker Eddy’s comment in Pulpit and Press: “Our surety is in our confidence that we are indeed dwellers in Truth and Love, man’s eternal mansion” (p. 3). That is just where we were.