Fire and rain destroy
Today I have a legitimate excuse for avoiding the dishes. Whenever I stand at the kitchen sink I see sheets of rain pouring down into the open cavern of what was once our shop.
It's pretty sad to see the destruction. But not that sad. I haven't cried or anything. I almost did though. When I was standing across the street talking to a neighbor and I watched as the entire roof and second story collapsed into the main floor it made my heart a little sick. So many of Titus's tools. His shop that he worked hard to build. Poof.
But in the end, it's just stuff. That's why we keep reminding ourselves to store our treasures in heaven, where they will be safe from the destructive powers of moth, rust, fire, thievery and such.
Plus we have insurance. It should cover the cost of rebuilding the shop. Although our premium may skyrocket because we had a flood just a year and a half ago. So Titus says we may be moved to the secondary insurance market. I'm not sure what this is but I image it's akin to buying a kidney on the black market. Who knows, it may necessitate a trip to Mexico.
It is sort of a surreal experience, because most of my emotions have been extreme gratitude. Gratitude that someone walked by in the middle of the night and saw the flames, that we got Titus's truck out, that it didn't spread to the house, that no one was injured. Gratitude that yesterday when the roof caved in (13 hours after they finished fire-fighting) Titus was safely in his truck getting some tarps from the store, and not in his shop trying to clear stuff out or on the roof trying to tarp it.
So, I feel very lucky and a little sad. I feel lucky to have such great friends, neighbors, firefighters, and insurance. I feel lucky to have neighbors bringing me flowers and ice cream and wine. I feel lucky that we have more people offering their time and help than we even know what to do with.
But when I stand at the kitchen sink and see that ridiculous amount of rain cascading over all my husband's collapsed mess of stuff, I feel just a bit of sadness. But don't worry I have a solution - no standing at the kichen sink ;)
It's pretty sad to see the destruction. But not that sad. I haven't cried or anything. I almost did though. When I was standing across the street talking to a neighbor and I watched as the entire roof and second story collapsed into the main floor it made my heart a little sick. So many of Titus's tools. His shop that he worked hard to build. Poof.
But in the end, it's just stuff. That's why we keep reminding ourselves to store our treasures in heaven, where they will be safe from the destructive powers of moth, rust, fire, thievery and such.
Plus we have insurance. It should cover the cost of rebuilding the shop. Although our premium may skyrocket because we had a flood just a year and a half ago. So Titus says we may be moved to the secondary insurance market. I'm not sure what this is but I image it's akin to buying a kidney on the black market. Who knows, it may necessitate a trip to Mexico.
It is sort of a surreal experience, because most of my emotions have been extreme gratitude. Gratitude that someone walked by in the middle of the night and saw the flames, that we got Titus's truck out, that it didn't spread to the house, that no one was injured. Gratitude that yesterday when the roof caved in (13 hours after they finished fire-fighting) Titus was safely in his truck getting some tarps from the store, and not in his shop trying to clear stuff out or on the roof trying to tarp it.
So, I feel very lucky and a little sad. I feel lucky to have such great friends, neighbors, firefighters, and insurance. I feel lucky to have neighbors bringing me flowers and ice cream and wine. I feel lucky that we have more people offering their time and help than we even know what to do with.
But when I stand at the kitchen sink and see that ridiculous amount of rain cascading over all my husband's collapsed mess of stuff, I feel just a bit of sadness. But don't worry I have a solution - no standing at the kichen sink ;)
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