Walking the Road Together

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Two years ago today, we had a perfect night. Crisp, clear, and beautiful, you could practically feel the quick-silver energy of spring crackling in the air. We were in that limbo of the changing seasons with one foot in fur-lined boots and the other in flip-flops, but we were definitely on the cusp of change. Hope and promise and the hint of so many lovely days to come were everywhere that night. So this country girl left the windows wide open and went to sleep.

Around midnight, I awoke to the sound of voices outside. Certain that it was neighborhood teens drawn outside by the beautiful weather, I was irritated. I needed to get back to sleep. I am not actually a girl any more, and we more seasoned gals need our beauty sleep.

When I went to the window to call out to them, time stopped.  The house two doors down was engulfed in flames. A young family of seven was sobbing on the front lawn.  The images kept coming then, stacked one upon another, each one  more heartbreaking than the one that came before. Neighbors trying to keep the flames at bay with garden hoses. A little boy patting his Mama’s arm.  Fire truck after fire truck after fire truck lined up through the neighborhood—a brotherhood of firemen trying to save the home of one of their own. A baby girl wrapped in a neighbor’s sweatshirt. Little bare feet everywhere in the too cool air. Two more pictures stood out. A house there. Then not.

The family had just moved in three weeks prior, but  we were already connected. Maybe it was because this young family was our mirror in many ways with 4 boys and a girl. Maybe it was because the boys had become such fast friends.  Our kids were already playing together every day, wearing out our side yard with spirited games of soccer. Maybe it was because I was already friends with the husband’s sister and knew the extended family a little.  Time doesn’t define all relationships.

My family tried to help in any way we could. But in addition to the burnt scar in the ground just two houses away that we saw EVERY. SINGLE. DAY., we now had a quiet empty soccer field beside the house. Whoever said silence is golden hasn’t walked around a neighborhood after a tragedy.

A little while after the fire, Eddie, then 3, and I visited the family to see how they were doing.  You never REALLY know what to expect from preschoolers, but Eddie walked right up to their 3 year old Bezzy like they hadn’t missed a beat.

“Your house burned down. That’s sad.”  I froze, but I didn’t need to worry. Their three year old son Bezzy started jabbering away about everything that was going on. He told Eddie every last toy that he lost, every lovey that was gone forever, and, saddest of all, that their dear dog had died in the fire too. These were  preschoolers, and they were talking like two wizened old souls.

Bezzy’s mom Sarah told me that the fire had unmoored Bezzy, shattering his notion of home and safety.  Bezzy had pretty much stopped talking after that night and had retreated into his own little world of play. Eddie was reaching across a divide with his friendship to pull Bezzy to the other side. As we were watching these two little guys chatter on, we sensed the change, saw with our own eyes how the simple gifts of acknowledgment and a listening heart could bring someone through limbo to the cusp of change.  Then this. . .

“Well, let’s eat a cracker, and then play with some trucks.”

Yes, let’s.

Two years on, and the family is back in our neighborhood in a beautiful new home, and the neighborhood play has resumed.

Sarah was asked to give a talk at her local church about what people can do when tragedy strikes, and she told the boys’ story.  It’s especially beautiful when coupled with one of Sarah’s favorite sayings that she often shared on their year-long journey from the fire back into their home: God’s favorite way of showing up is through His people.

Indeed.

Today I picked up a pile of dirty sweatshirts out beside our makeshift side yard soccer field. Warmer weather, longer days, and the promise of long afternoons filled with not-so-much-to-do are right around the corner. Knee-deep in extra laundry and waging a daily battle against the dirt mound threatening to engulf us, I could complain, but I don’t.  This time of year is special. Full of promise. Laden with hope. I want to remember that today.

~Erin

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33 thoughts on “Walking the Road Together”

  2. Colleen

    I am sobbing! That is such a true and beautifully told story, Erin. What in the world would we do if God didn’t show up in His people after a tragedy? <3

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  13. Southern Angel

    Dagnabbit I don’t know how I missed this earlier this week but now I sit here with tears flowing. We often think kids don’t get it. But they do and so much more than we as adults do. Just beautiful and I am so glad they got a new home built and are still close to ya’ll if only for those babies.
    Southern Angel recently posted..No I really do not starve my children…My Profile

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    1. The Sisterhood Post author

      I just took the boys hiking near our house on Sunday when we had some beautiful weather here and I was just in such awe of how much (and how little) changes in two years. Thanks for reading, Erin

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