This week, we've had yet another reason to choose to count ourselves as blessed. And I assure you, it is most certainly a choice we make in seeing this event as a blessing and not as another number on a laundry list of unexpected calamities and minor catastrophes that have come our way these past couple of years.
This week, our house caught on fire. Sort of. Actually, the relay switch (?) on the refrigerator malfunctioned and instead of causing the fridge to simply quit working (as the repairman said it should have done) it kept running until the the little component began to smolder and burn.
Thankfully, mom and the boys were home and detected the ever-suffocating smell of an electrical fire and the haze of smoke filling the house and called 911. After contacting the fire department and dad (who was at work), mom called me at school. Since it was almost exactly 1pm and I was already in class (although my instructor, Mr. P, was not), I let my silenced phone kick her call over to voice mail. I proceeded to text her to ask her what she needed but almost immediately received a second call from mom. Since Mr. P was still not present, I stepped out in the hall and answered the phone only to hear mom frantically say, "Becca, the house is on fire." In that second, everything around me silenced, everything just seemed to stop. Surely I did not hear what I thought I heard, surely she did not say what I just thought she said. My response was a stunned and shaky "What?!? Not our house, right?" Yes, it was our house. I quickly got off the phone just as Mr. P was walking past me and into the room. Before anything else could be said, I simply told him that I had to leave. As I quickly, numbly, gathered my things, he asked if everything was okay. I sort of shook my head and said "My house is on fire." Seriously, that was one of the most surreal moments of my life, to have to turn and tell someone that at that moment, my house was on fire. I am quite certain I looked and sounded a bit frantic, but having no idea at that moment the extent of the supposed fired or if everyone was safe, I felt quite frantic. My mad dash across the parking lot to my car was steeped in prayer. In those seconds that seemed like hours, all I could image was the fire that had claimed one of Grandma A's neighbor's home a couple of years ago. The neighbor had put his dogs outside as he went to run errands. An electrical fire had engulfed his home less than an hour after he left. He drove down his street, believing that he was simply returning from shopping to find fire trucks blocking his street and firemen simply trying to contain the blaze of a burning structure that was only hours ago his home. It was a total loss. Everything gone. Clothing, cherished mementos, personal items, pet birds, everything. Just gone. And the look on this man's face... Shocked. Confused. Broken. Was this to be our fate, too?
For all the "what if's" and worst-case scenarios that my mind took on that surprisingly peace-filled ride home, the Peace of God was on my heart and my lips. Whatever the outcome of this situation, I was okay with it. I knew that God would provide for all of our needs. As soon as I made it to the main road not far from our house, I kept looking for smoke, breathing a prayer of thanks every moment I failed to see smoke.
I pulled into our street and parked in neighbor's driveway (it was only a little after 1pm and she works at a local school and does not arrive home until after 3:30pm), our driveway having been blocked by two monstrous red firetrucks. The house was intact and apparently unharmed, but the strong, sickening smell of an electrical fire met me at the end of our driveway as firemen scurried in and out of our house. After an hour or two of searching the attic, the closets, the outlets, and the walls with various pieces of equipment (because there was no visible flame) the firemen finally came to the conclusion that the refrigerator was the source of the smoke that had filled the house and the smell that choked us all up before we ever re-entered the house.
As I said, the relay switch on the refrigerator malfunctioned (which the repairman said really shouldn't have happened on a fridge that was only 5-6 years old) and instead of causing the fridge to simply quit working (as the repairman said it should have done) it kept running until the the little component began to smolder and burn.
The house was a mess but unharmed. We were a bit unnerved but safe. The smell of electrical smoke is still strong in the kitchen and family room, but it is diminishing. The fridge more or less caught fire and we had to spend the rest of the evening cleaning up the mess and emptying the fridge and freezer, but a repairman was able to fix the fridge. Had this happened when no one was home or when we were sleeping, had the smoldering fridge not been unplugged and repaired, it could have easily ignited into a flaming, burning, destructive, deadly fire. We could have lost our house, everything we own, even our lives. But we didn't. We were blessed.
I suppose that this could be viewed as something unpleasant, as one more bit of bad luck (and yes, we've even had neighbors tell us, "You guys have the worst luck" or "Just wondered what hit you all now"), or even as some sort of indication that God must simply not like us. I prefer to think of it as a blessing. Because I realize what could have happened. We were spared. We are blessed. And I am grateful.
Yes, we count ourselves as blessed.
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