Out of the Fire

We hear stories everyday of nature's calamity, devastation, destruction, death and torment.  Its everywhere.  From hurricanes ravaging the coasts to tornadoes terrorizing the plains, tsunamis washing away entire cities to earthquakes burying towns, homes and lives.  Devastation comes to many without warning and alters the course of life.  Its easy to sit and watch the news broadcast what is happening miles away from you.  Its easy to sit and say "how sad" and yet forget about it the moment the news is off.  When it doesn't happen to you, the fear, horror, loss and sorrow are somehow lost, less impacting.  Until it affects you......

Growing up in the mountains of Colorado we were always on the lookout for wild fires.  They were our fear.  I can remember the Buffalo Creek fire, and the Hayman fire that came all too close to our part of the woods.  In the 25+ years of living up in the mountains we never really had to evacuate.  Came close, but it just never got close enough.  Over time I kind of got into a place of "that will never happen to us."

The front of our home

Our Meadow, that little shed houses our snowmobile

Our pond- many years of swimming and salamander catching

The entrance to our property- still untouched

I have been away from my adolescent home for many years now.  I have my family, my home and I live 2000 miles away.  So when my family called me very late one evening to tell me they were being evacuated and that my Dad, Uncle and several of the neighbors were trapped behind the raging inferno that came to be called the Lower North Fork Fire, I was struck dumfounded.  What do you mean stuck?  Why couldn't they get out if they were evacuated?  What was happening?

The North Fork Fire started as a controlled burn under intensely dry conditions.  Coupled with raging wind, the fire literally became a freight train of burning devastation.

 No one was warned, no one had time.  My family and many of my parent's neighbors literally fled through the flames.  My mom drove out unable to see ahead of her.  My Dad had to go back.  

Kuehster Road- my family lives on the other side of the flames

On the other side- Dad was stuck on the other side of that smoke

Andy Hoover (a neighbor) standing on his burned property

Three neighbors could not flee fast enough and were consumed by the burning fire.  27 structures were lost, animals were devoured and the forest utterly charred.  This little red school house has been a historic landmark for nearly a century, now an empty foundation with a half mast flag marks its place.  I grew up here, I have memories here.  It happened to me.......

Coming out to visit this new version of my old home is humbling.  The mountain still is beautiful, but it now carries a scar.  A big scar reminding all of us that nature is big, strong, powerful and merciless.  Wow.

 

Here are 3 comparison pictures.  The left picture was taken in 2009 and the right is the same picture today.

Hearing all of the stories of what happened that dreadful March 26 though has shown me two things.  1.  God is still on His throne.  We live in an imperfect world with pain and suffering and yet He is still sovereign and a God of miracles and 2.  The power of community is overwhelming up here.   Never have I been more proud to consider myself among the mountain folk.  They are fierce, devoted, compassionate, strong, caring and willing to move heaven and earth to be sure their community remains in tact.

Steve Foster standing on the remains of his home.

Community is everything up here and it is a force to be reckoned with.  The fire has forever changed the mountain.  It's destroyed homes, taken lives, and forever scarred the ground.  But there is one thing the fire didn't take, couldn't take, will never take.

The heart of the mountain and its dwellers.