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House on Fire
Elyse and I have been rewatching Anne with an E on Netflix. In one early episode1, Marilla tells Anne, “There’s a fire in town. Put on your boots and hurry down.” Matthew’s already in the barn getting the horse, rushing toward the flames. The town church bell rings in the night, calling everyone to action.
Anne follows Marilla’s every instruction, feeling the urgency. When the scene shifts, a house is burning in the dark, and people are already arriving — neighbors, friends, townsfolk — all working together to stop the fire from consuming the home.
No one pauses to ask, “What can we do to help?” or says, “We’re praying for you!” before just turning and walking away. No one offers a vague “Let us know if you need anything.” They just act. Every person has the same goal: to help this family put out their fire.
During an actual house fire — or any trauma — it’s hard to answer questions. Those living it are usually just trying to stop the flames, stop the bleeding, and protect whoever’s closest to the danger. Many times, there aren’t answers to questions and it leaves everyone feeling helpless.
Before the post about Reggie was posted to the Sheriff Department Facebook page, another massive “house fire” had already broken out for our family. We were right in the middle of it without anyone knowing, but then the news hit Facebook land smack in the middle of us still reeling. This time the whole town (and then some) could see the flames of our “house fire.” We’ve never been ones to share our family’s hardest moments publicly — most people close to us don’t even know all the details. But now a BIG bomb was dropped out there, raw and terrifying, for everyone honestly.
Unfortunately our “house fire” caused many smaller fires to ignite around it. Phone calls from concerned citizens poured in to the school systems, staff took it like the true champions they are. Fear captured the hearts of parents in the area, for their own children, unfortunately unnecessarily but with compete understanding.
As we tried to fight the fire with Reggie (and the smaller fires flaring up around it), that scene and episode from Anne with an E kept replaying in my mind. Over and over. It became a strange kind of comfort — a reminder of what community looks like when things burn. A clear parallel to our lives in that moment and the community we live in.
But also a first hand experience to the cruelty that can also come from humans and their willingness to type things they’d never say to your face. At least, I truly hope they’d never say something so harmful directly to a hurting juvenile’s or parent’s face. Unfortunately, this is also something we are familiar with owning a local small business. Through the years, we’ve deeply felt both sides of this coin.
During that intense week, our community came running. You came running.
Are we exhausted? Yes.
Do we keep going? Also yes.
Do we know what is happening in our lives right now?! Nope
Some parts of our house will need rebuilding again… and again. Our family isn’t new to fires like this — like I said they usually just don’t make it to Facebook. It really is our highlight reel, on purpose. I see Facebook as a way for me to keep the good. For those memories to pop up on repeat.
I saw how words can fuel flames, and I saw how others can throw “buckets of water” instead — with kindness, prayer, action. Every “we’re thinking of you,” the couple of meals, an unexpected Venmo of love from afar— it was a bucket of water we didn’t have to lift ourselves.
When we worked with Children’s Lantern, that’s what it was all about: being the bucket of water. Helping families who step into the flames on purpose, because we can carry love and share it when others need it most. Because we knew exactly what it felt like to stand in the flames. THOSE flames. That experience, and the family we’ve formed, has shaped us forever — the other families, the kids, the friends. Even when those families choose the hard path, they still need support. Many times they are met with someone fanning flames instead. A child entering a loving home doesn’t make everything instantly okay for that child, or it may never make it “okay.” What does “okay” look like anyway?! Ope, that’s another post entirely.
When we stepped back from Children’s Lantern, our own house was already on fire. Some of our kids were in crisis, major crisis. We couldn’t see through our own flames and smoke anymore. Like the stewardess says on a plane — put on your own oxygen mask first. That was us. We didn’t stop helping; it just looked different. We had to find our oxygen masks before we could go back in. Unfortunately that step back probably caused some hurt and confusion, to which we meant none purposefully. It was/is very much the start of some of the darkest, hardest years of our child-raising lives.
If there’s a friend, a neighbor, or a family you’ve been thinking about — someone who’s on your heart — please follow through. Send the text. Drop the meal. Make the bread. Mail that card. You might be the “bucket of water” that gives them enough breathing room to see through the smoke and be able to do the next step in front of them.
We always used to say, “You can’t do everything, but you can do something.” That’s still true. A genuine prayer does change things. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. Even today, as I finally get this off my heart, I’ve seen answered prayers and a situation dramatically change. And when you’ve made it through the fire, don’t forget — through means you landed on the other side. You’re not stuck in the burning house anymore. Someone helped carry the buckets with you.
In that Anne with an E episode, after the fire’s out, the townspeople don’t just celebrate and go home. They stay. They rebuild the Gillis family’s house — not just the structure, but their home. There is still continuous work to do when you land on the other side.
Adam and I still tend to be private (and stubborn). It’s hard to let people in when some have fanned the flames or set off explosives before. Those wounds leave scars that change how you trust. But even so, we’ve learned — to guard wisely, to trust carefully, and to never try to fight a raging fire completely alone. Although, I will say, having it on the Sheriff Department’s Facebook page makes it way more complicated, I totally don’t recommend that.
As we walk alongside our kids — wherever they are, in whatever season — we decided a long time ago to choose relationship with them first if at all possible. We may not share every detail, because it’s not always ours alone to share, but we’re profoundly thankful for the people who come running when the house is on fire.
- Anne with an E, Season 1 Episode 4: An Inward Treasure is Born ↩︎
