After the fire: how I prayed

A home provides safety, stability, and security in our lives. Whether we live in the largest mansion or the tiniest apartment, the joy of having a place to call home gives us a good measure of peace. And yet, it’s helpful to better understand the spiritual concept of home, instead of just thinking of it as the dwelling in which we may live. The securest sense of home I’ve found comes from a deepened understanding of God’s love for me and my family. This was made very clear to me through a recent experience where that sense of safety, stability, and many fond memories of home went up in smoke, literally.

My parents’ house was one of the more than 1,600 claimed by the Bastrop Complex fire that burned more than 34,000 acres in central Texas in September 2011. Shortly after I got the news of the fire, I travelled from my home in Missouri to help my parents dig through the rubble and begin the process of recovery. And yet, as a Christian Scientist, I knew I could do more. More than just bringing a trunk full of tools, I could bring an uplifted thought, one aligned with God and clear in the deepest sense of home, which would not be overwhelmed by the picture of loss and destruction. I strove to affirm and witness the love of God for my parents and all in that community.

Is this really happening to us?

That question of shock and disbelief did cross my mind. But almost right away, when my dad first called to tell me the news that their neighborhood had been affected, I knew I had a choice to make. I could be shocked and sad, opening the door of my thought to all the arguments about loss and injustice, or I could do the opposite. I chose to be calm, to be supportive, to be helpful, prayerful, and unimpressed. I chose to use what the teachings of Christian Science have given me—an understanding that the reality of God’s allness and goodness can reverse and negate what seems so real and powerful to the senses.

Mary Baker Eddy writes about this approach in the Christian Science textbook, Science and Health. My thought was immediately drawn to the striking question she poses toward the end of this paragraph: “Human sense may well marvel at discord, while, to a diviner sense, harmony is the real and discord the unreal. We may well be astonished at sin, sickness, and death. We may well be perplexed at human fear; and still more astounded at hatred, which lifts its hydra head, showing its horns in the many inventions of evil. But why should we stand aghast at nothingness? The great red dragon symbolizes a lie,—the belief that substance, life, and intelligence can be material” (p. 563 ).

It was only natural for me to affirm the reality of good in my prayers, and reject the claims of loss and destruction. No matter the mortal picture, I strove to lift my thought above aggressive images and not be “aghast.” No, it wasn’t always easy, and yes, I had to be persistent, but I know my early refusal to accept the picture of destruction helped. The figurative “red dragon” of towering flames and dark smoky skies portrayed on various news reports did not represent the spiritual facts I was claiming for all involved. In other words, the fire could never succeed in destroying anything good. It was an affront to the innocence, goodness, and purity of God’s creation, which is not and cannot be subject to such destruction.

Waiting for the news

For several days my parents and I didn’t know about the status of the house. We weren’t allowed back into the neighborhood for safety reasons, and it was easy to speculate, to hope the fire had jumped their property. As I prayed, I came to better understand that the real truth of the situation, the permanence of God’s goodness, had nothing to do with the path of the fire or the fate of each individual home. I found it important to look away from all the various reports and let go of the longing for constant information.

Yes, our family needed to be wise and informed, but I learned that I could do so without allowing myself to become overwhelmed, embroiled in the emotion and seemingly incessant demand to know each new development. I also reaffirmed that God’s supremacy was true no matter what the house looked like or didn’t look like. Recognizing this allowed me to be still and better know God’s continuous presence, even when we received confirmation from a neighbor that my parents’ house had completely burned.

Knowing God, striving to better understand Him, freed me immediately from that thought of “How could God let something like this happen to my parents?” God knows nothing of loss. As we read in the Bible, “the Lord was not in the fire” but in the “still small voice” (I Kings 19:12 ). It is this still small voice that assures us of God and His real nature. The raging elements of mortality cannot separate us from our Maker. The very suggestion of another power, the heavy sense of loss, sickness, or sin, is destroyed in this right understanding of the nature of God and His infinite goodness.

What about the stuff?

It is a bit surreal to think about how quickly a lifetime of accumulation can be reduced to a pile of ash. And yet because of the altitude of thought resulting from prayer, our family felt no grief. Of course, we couldn’t help thinking about the photographs, the original art, and the special items handed down through the generations. But it was good to know that the real essence of each, the spiritual idea in back of each object, was still tangible, still real.

I challenged myself to better witness the real substance of each object—to see its real function and value. This in turn enabled me to feel the promise of restoration. Digging through the ashes, I didn’t feel sorrow because I knew the real spiritual value of all my family’s belongings had little to do with their whole or burnt form. Their utility, their grace, their beauty, the real essence of each, originated in God and could never truly be lost to fire.

In actuality, mortality can never match the worth or the value of the ideas of God. Mrs. Eddy wrote, “Every object in material thought will be destroyed, but the spiritual idea, whose substance is in Mind, is eternal” (Science and Health, p. 267 ).

I especially saw the recognition of these concepts in the face of my stepmother when she recalled the art, which were gifts of love from so many. She clearly recognized the limitless and unbounded inspiration of each piece. And I cannot help but think how quickly those same qualities will reblossom in my parents’ new home. Already one artist friend shared how easy it would be to make another special piece for them.

Patience, closure, and progress

One of the most challenging aspects of this entire experience for me was the need to exercise patience and understanding as we waited to gain access to the property. I guess you could say we each, in our own way, needed to see the home with our own eyes, as opposed to the small pictures our neighbor had taken with his cellphone. The demand was for me to continue to stand firm in my own thought so that I could continue to be a blessing.

Even while I kept regular tabs on press releases, waiting for the reentry schedule, I strove to express the deepest gratitude for everyone working to get this important information out to the public. And without realizing it at the time, as a result of steadfast prayer, I reached the closure I needed before ever setting foot on the property.

When the neighborhood did open, I was more focused on supporting a healing atmosphere of thought than on the salvage efforts we were about to begin. As I moved through the security checkpoints in my car, I prayed aloud that God’s presence be felt and known with such tangible reality for each returning household. I prayed that each family could know and feel the love of God that I felt at that moment and that had been supporting and strengthening me since I first learned of the fires. And I prayed that each family might know the spiritual substance of their home as intact, regardless of whether the fire had burned their house or not.

With an assurance built on the foundation of the Christ, Truth, my family has been able to progress rapidly and harmoniously. Even though they’ve had several different places to hang their hats, from a loving friend’s guest house to a beautiful rental property close to family, through it all they have been at home—at home with God and safe and secure in His ever-present love for them and all. And the rebuilding has begun on their property! In fact, the foundation was just recently poured on their new home. Even while I look forward to returning to Texas, I feel the fresh promise that all affected by the fire are progressing and rebuilding with the grace of God leading the way.