Tragedy to Hope
It’s been a while since I’ve updated everyone on the moment my life changed: the day I lost my home to the Marshall Fire.
I don’t blame God for the fire. It wasn’t caused by God, or anyone else. It was the grueling weather and tumultuous winds that started the catastrophe. I lost my cat, Daisy, to that fire — and I’m also still looking for a more permanent place to live. But time moves ever forward, and from the ashes sprouts new life.
In the time since the Marshall Fire, I have had several books come out that helped me extend my voice to the world. I also got to adopt two baby kittens, Max and Matilda, whom I love so much. They are growing up fast, and I am enjoying every second of it. Matilda has a lot in common with Daisy in her mannerisms, and how she is always actively playing. Meanwhile, Max mainly watches her play in amusement. I’m glad that I was able to get a pair of kittens, brother and sister; not just one. They can grow up together and have a playing buddy always.
I went back to the place where my childhood home once stood, the ground now covered in ash. When I visited, I was with my family grabbing rocks from that familiar path we once walked. The rocks had almost been untouched by the flames — we’ll use them to help build a new path in my current temporary home. It’s all a continuous process of healing and figuring out the next steps.
Nearby, golfers still play on the course and disrespect the property. You can both see new and burnt golf balls on the grounds; there are footprints where golfers had come to pick up their golf balls, without an ounce of compassion for the home that is no more.
There was a haphazard barrier put up to try to prevent people from walking all over the property, but you can see where people stepped on it and over it to get to their golf balls. It’s not fair to survivors. These people callously walk all over the former homes without permission. These beloved places are tread on so carelessly. I couldn’t fathom that someone could stomp over the ashes of a home for a stupid golf ball, simply to continue their game. Respect is needed when dealing with something so tragic. There needs to be an understanding that this happened. It’s not okay to step on anyone’s property — no matter what it looks like in the moment.
If the Marshall Fire taught me anything, it’s this: even in tragedy, there is hope. When I first stepped through the ashes of my own home, I found that my “Hope” sign had ironically survived the fire. It’s a reminder that not even the flames can consume hope — it’s just as powerful a weapon as faith.
Today, my life is in perpetual motion toward finding a more permanent home. Until then, I continue to build my business that is meant for children and adults of special needs, gamers, influencers, TTRPG players, and teachers. I dive into that hope with each coming day.
