Faith Under Fire

In the spirit of Christmas:

Faith Under Fire

Two weeks before Christmas during my junior year of college, my faith in humanity dried up. Wherever I turned, I witnessed people failing to perform the most common of courtesies: opening a door for someone carrying a box, letting a car pass in front without a chorus of hor ns, or offering to help someone in need. Everyone I encountered was selfish and unfeeling.
Take, for instance, the purchase of my very first real Christmas tree. Thinking I could move a 6-foot tree myself, I went alone. I purchased the tree from a local Boy Scout lot and as I took in the rich perfume of the Douglas fur strapped to my car, the excitement began to mount at the thought of taking it home. I parked my car in front of my apartment complex. I only had to carry the tree across the street and through a small courtyard. No problem, I thought.

Apparently, I needed to step up my workouts because I couldn't move it more than two feet.
I decided to roll it, but after another three feet I was exhausted. There I was standing beside a beautiful green tree in the middle of the street. I felt helpless and what's worse--stupid. Trying to decide what to do, I heard a few voices over my left shoulder. A block away there were three men looking at me and laughing. My first thought was a good-natured, "Ha ha ha. Very funny." I expected to see the owners of the voices walking towards me to help. They didn't make a move. This depressed me. What was wrong with people? At a time when we were supposed to be filled with good tidings and holiday cheer, I saw no joy in the people around me. Still, I wasn't going to let that stop me from having a merry Christmas. After finally getting my tree into my apartment, I went home to my parents' house for the weekend instead of struggle with this inevitable truth of life.

The Friday night I arrived home, I discovered an unusual thing - four of my siblings were home as well. I come from a family of twelve children, so having four together may not seem like much, but four in our family in one place at one time is unusual because most of us are dispersed across the country.

We were all sitting in the living room chatting about the usual things--kids, school, the weather. As I sat there on the couch thinking of my beautiful real green tree sitting in the middle of the street, I stared at my family's 6-foot tall artificial tree. It was the same tree every year: a lot of decorations, tinsel, garland, but no lights.

"Mom, are you ever going to get lights for the tree?"

"Oh, honey, maybe someday. Your father has a hard time trusting those lights since that Christmas."

In 1966 a fire ignited in my parent's house. I wasn't born yet, and we had since moved, but the memory of that day lives on in the minds and hearts of my family. Every year during the holidays, the fire is mentioned. It wasn't until this one weekend, however, that I heard the entire story.

My younger sister, Erika, voiced the question that was on the tip of my tongue. "What really happened that year, Mom?"

We all leaned in closer as Mom began to describe what happened.

"On December 23rd, your father and I put all the kids to bed at 8pm. We went to watch some television at 8:30 in the study, which was located at the back of the house. Scott, usually a fast sleeper, had for some reason felt he had to stay up. The house was laid out so that Scott and Kent's room was really a den with no door. Their room faced the living room where the Christmas tree was. I asked Scott about it later, and he told me that he was lying down on his side, propped up by his elbow when he witnessed the tree catch fire. He described it as looking very beautiful! For a four-year-old, the red-blue flame coming from the multi-colored lights becoming a neon glow of meshed colors had no alarming effect at first. But soon Scott realized what was happening. He quickly climbed down the bunk beds and shook Kent awake. Both Scott and Kent then ran out the den, down the hall to the doorway leading to the study and rapped on the door."

"Both Tom and I instinctively jumped up and went to evacuate the rest of the children. We alerted the girls-Tanya, Shawn, Andrea and Valerie."

"Although I faced the possible loss of my children, my husband and our home, I didn't have enough time to panic. There was too much to do. We had to get out of there right away!

"The house began to flood with smoke. I called to the children in the next room to go out the back door and stand on the retaining wall, which was far enough away from the fire. As Scott and Kent exited the house, I had a horrible realization: one of my boys was missing! Todd, only two years old, was still in the house.

"'Tom, Tom! Todd's still in there!'" I shrieked with horror.

"'You call the fire department. I'll get him.'"

"Before we had retired to the study, I had placed the happy toddler into his crib, which was located in the room next to the fire. Todd was the closest to the horrible blaze and he was the most defenseless against it. Your dad turned on his heel and lunged into the cloud of smoke that was fast approaching that side of the house. As he did this, I picked up the phone to dial the fire department."

Dad walked up behind Mom to add his perspective.

"I navigated my way into Scott and Kent's room as swiftly as I could. As I crossed the room to the door that led to the inferno, I spied Todd standing up in his crib, with his back to the fire and his chubby arms outstretched waiting for someone to scoop him out of danger. I paused and assessed the fire. By now the room was aglow and pulsing with red-hot heat. I crouched down when I saw that a thick layer of poisonous gases filled the top half of the room.

"I scuttled to Todd's crib to retrieve him but soon realized with utter agony that I could not lift Todd out of the crib to safety because lifting him meant that he would be brought up into that layer of gaseous fumes. A 2-year-old could not hold his breath through that. I became frantic, trying to figure out a way to get my little boy out of there. I was at my wits end when I pleaded, '"Dear God, help me."'

"For a brief moment, the air seemed stationary, as if it were holding itself up waiting for instructions from an unseen force. Suddenly, all the windows in the living room shattered. I realized that this would cause an updraft raising the ceiling of smoke. I seized this moment to grab onto Todd's waist and hoist him up and over the crib gate and into my arms. I found out afterward that it had to heat up to between 800 and 900 degrees F for the windows to blow out."

Along with the rest of us, including Todd, Mom let out the breath she was holding. Her eyes twinkled and she let out a laugh. "That wasn't the only close call. Tanya was the last of the older kids out of the house. A second before she had closed the screen door behind her, the windows began to shatter. As she closed the door, thick shards of glass catapulted across the room, piercing the screen door, which held them in like a net.

"Tanya's eyes widened at the understanding that, had she been a second delayed in shutting the door, one of those glass pieces might have impaled her instead of the door. Tanya finally moved from the spot where she had stalled and joined her sisters.

"I heard the ruckus as the windows blew out, which caused the dispatcher I was on the phone with to ask, "'Where are you calling from?'"

"'I'm in the house,'" was my answer.

"'Get out. Now!'"

Dad interjected, "By this time, with Todd secure in my arms, I began making my way across the smoke-filled room to safety. With each step I took, I could feel the rubber on the soles of my deck shoes melt away. I hadn't thought to get a towel and moisten it to place over my mouth before going after Todd. So after I left the living room, I felt dizzy. The fumes were affecting me.

"Everything was moving in slow motion. When we finally stepped into the hallway, I looked up to see the light in the study signaling me in as a lighthouse might. Although it was only about 15 feet away, I doubted I could make it. I faltered as I started to black out.

"Miraculously, I found the strength to push on, shaking off the dizziness just a few seconds longer. As I pushed the study door open with my right hand, I saw your mom place the receiver back in its cradle. Your mom, Todd and I then exited into the back pool area through the study. The infusion of the night air into my lungs helped me breath easier."

"What about Tanya, Shawn, Andrea, and Valerie? Where were they?" I asked.
Mom responded: "They were all standing on the retaining wall, just as I told them. Your dad and I looked back at the house and saw our neighbor on the left-hand side, putting a hose to the house to prevent the flames from burning the wood-shake roof. Tom was able to jump the fence that separated the girls from us, so he could assist in putting the flames out. Nate Hall, our neighbor from the other side of the house, volunteered his hose, which was longer and more powerful. Tom and Nate stretched the hose across the pool area and pointed it at the roof. Their efforts succeeded in preventing the roof from catching on fire.

"The fire department arrived, and the firefighters were able to contain the fire and eventually put it out. After they started bringing in big fans to blow out the smoke, I was escorted through the house with Todd since we couldn't jump the fence. The Jarmans, who lived across the street, invited me over to clean up Todd. I sat Todd down near the sink in the Jarmans' kitchen while trying to find a washcloth to wipe the soot off his hands. I wet the cloth with cold water and held Todd's right hand. For the first time I took a really good look at Todd's hands and realized that it wasn't soot I saw but Todd's burned skin. Every area of his skin that his pajamas didn't cover was burned: his ears, his nose and his hands.

"I alerted Shirley Jarman and we rushed outside towards a deputy sheriff who had since arrived. We told the situation to him. Without hesitation he motioned me into his vehicle and rushed Todd and I to the hospital, sirens roaring. Before I stepped into the police car, I called over to your dad and told him the situation. To avoid further injury to Todd, I couldn't stay a minute longer."

"That's when it really hit me," Dad admitted. "As I saw my wife and child being rushed away, I slowly sank down and sat helpless on the curb. The shock hit me and I started to breathe heavily, so much so that the paramedics who had recently come to the scene had to administer some oxygen to me."

"Todd was treated for his burns and we finally came home," Mom said. "That night your father and I were able to sleep in our bedroom. I had kept the door shut, which prevented the fire from spreading into that room. All the children slept at the Jarman's. The next morning, as we were assessing the damage, we counted our blessings even though we no longer had presents to give our children on Christmas day and had no place to eat breakfast on Christmas morning. We would manage somehow. We always did.

"Later that morning the doorbell rang. It was Bob and Shirley Jarman who had opened their home to our family in that horrible situation. They had in their hands a huge basket full of everything that you would need to prepare a Christmas meal. In the middle of the basket was an envelope. I let out a gasp as Tom opened it to discover $200."

"'We-everyone on this block-thought that you would need this.'" Shirley said. "Maybe get some gifts for the kiddies, and have a nice Christmas breakfast.'"

"I stood there, with my right hand on my chest, in absolute amazement. Never had I seen such a display of generosity."

"That day, I fought the last-minute shopping crowds and bought gifts for the kids. I told the situation to the store managers and they all gave me huge discounts. We had gone all out with the gifts that year because the previous year was a meager Christmas. The G.I. Joes we had gotten for the boys were replaced with 'fake' G.I. Joes and the same with all the Barbie's we had gotten the girls. The kids didn't care, though.

"Todd, didn't cry once during the ordeal. Seeing his hands bandaged like miniature boxing gloves makes me cry even now. And to see him manipulate the building blocks and other toys..." Mom's voice trailed off as she focused on wiping her eyes.

Mom shook her head slightly. "We had gotten Todd a rocking horse and had kept it in the study so that wasn't damaged. To see him holding on with those bandaged hands and rocking away is an image that I will never forget."

With what my parents had left over they took the family to breakfast at a local diner on Christmas morning. Every year since then our family has faithfully continued with that tradition. I have shared in this tradition since I was born and knew it was because of the fire but I had no idea there was so much more to the story.

As we all stared at my Mom in amazement as she concluded the story, she leaned over and said "You see, we aren't only celebrating the fact that God saved us from a terrible fate. We celebrate those generous neighbors who showed such brotherly love and kindness to us that day."

So there it was: people can be good. They all aren't bad and in some cases, they can be spirit savers as well. With my negative experience all but forgotten, I left my parent's that weekend with a sense of peace at the very nature of human kind. They can be angels.