The morning a co-worker and friend of mine was supposed to leave for Washington, D.C., to witness and report on the historic inauguration of Barack Obama, an electrical malfunction set fire to his home. Luckily, he wasn’t there. He was house-sitting for his parents who were out of town. His cat was home, though. And luckily again, the person who first noticed the fire and stopped to help was a veterinary technician who heard the cat and rescued him. The fire was extinguished by volunteer and paid firefighters from four different towns. But it flared up again later that same morning and burned the house completely to the ground. My friend lost everything except the few clothes he had taken to his parents to wash before he left for the inauguration. Such a tragedy.
The following Sunday, I was running a bit later than usual getting out of the house for church. My husband and older son were out of town, so my younger son and I were on our own. When we arrived at The River, someone already was sitting in our seats. (OK, folks, you know you do it. People are creatures of habit. It’s a comfort thing.) So we found other accommodations across the aisle – with a new perspective. As Matt called for joys and concerns, I couldn’t help but think immediately of my friend’s tragic week, and then also – the blessings of his tragedy.
It wasn’t luck he wasn’t home. It was a blessing.
It wasn’t luck a veterinary technician discovered the fire and his trapped cat. It was a blessing.
It wasn’t luck he had some clothes with him preparing to participate in American history. It was a blessing.
And in the days that followed, the blessing of the fire extended to his friends and co-workers who were given the opportunity to demonstrate their love by helping him replenish some of the day-to-day necessities he needed.
And it was a blessing for him to be given the chance to see how much his life has touched others in a positive way.
To realize how much he matters. What a blessing.
The following Sunday, I was running a bit later than usual getting out of the house for church. My husband and older son were out of town, so my younger son and I were on our own. When we arrived at The River, someone already was sitting in our seats. (OK, folks, you know you do it. People are creatures of habit. It’s a comfort thing.) So we found other accommodations across the aisle – with a new perspective. As Matt called for joys and concerns, I couldn’t help but think immediately of my friend’s tragic week, and then also – the blessings of his tragedy.
It wasn’t luck he wasn’t home. It was a blessing.
It wasn’t luck a veterinary technician discovered the fire and his trapped cat. It was a blessing.
It wasn’t luck he had some clothes with him preparing to participate in American history. It was a blessing.
And in the days that followed, the blessing of the fire extended to his friends and co-workers who were given the opportunity to demonstrate their love by helping him replenish some of the day-to-day necessities he needed.
And it was a blessing for him to be given the chance to see how much his life has touched others in a positive way.
To realize how much he matters. What a blessing.
