Home Fires Burning

There is a wildfire burning in my hometown. I grew up at the foot of Pike's Peak. I played all over Rampart Range. Climbed rocks. Rode motorbikes. Inspected moss. I love my mountain childhood. There's an earthy scent standing among the pine trees that can't be found anywhere else. It's the scent of home.

When my mom called to tell me about the fire, I wanted to cry. In the many years I've been alive, that area has never seen fire. There are homes up there. Tourist attractions. Hiking paths. And it all contributes to the fantastic view.

There are other fires burning in Colorado. I heard that there are six. And a couple of years ago, California was ablaze. I should have cared because I used to live there. I should have cared when I heard about those other fires. Sure, I felt badly for the people they interviwed on the news. The ones losing their homes. Others who had to evacuate when the flames came too close. But I didn't feel the sense of worry that I feel with this fire.

Why not?

It was never real to me. It's real now. To hear the sense of concern in my mom's voice as she describes the plume of smoke concretes that. The other fires - being on the news - it was just another TV show in my head. Just like when we hear about hurricanes or earthquakes. We are removed from that, so it doesn't really matter to us. But when friends and family are losing homes, it becomes very real.

So with that, I must say that I hope in the future not to dismiss it so easily when I hear of fires or other disasters. I will pray for the brave men and women risking their lives to protect buildings, land, and animals. How truly grateful I am for those folks. I will lift the families who might lose everything.

Because who's to say that I may not one day be in that situation?