Through the Fire

A few weeks ago, my 78-year-old mom experienced something that none of us were prepared for.

She was outside eating lunch when she heard the smoke alarms going off inside her house. Just days before, my sister Grace had changed every smoke detector in her home. At the time, it seemed like just a simple chore, but now we know that small act of kindness made all the difference. Because those alarms worked, my mom heard them in time. She ran inside and found a fire had started on the stove.

She tried to put it out herself.  The fire was contained to only the kitchen before it could spread throughout the whole house, but the smoke and soot traveled everywhere. Her home was and is still filled with it. Walls, furniture, clothes, blankets, even the air; everything was touched. The smell is overwhelming. And this wasn’t just any house. This was the home she had built after my dad passed away. A place that represented healing, hope, and a fresh start after deep grief.

For a moment, it felt like everything she had rebuilt was being undone. But God was there.

Looking back now, I can see how God was already working, even before the fire started. My sister had just replaced the smoke detectors, and little did we know how much that small act would matter. Then, when the fire broke out, my mom acted quickly and with a calm strength I admire. And just couple hours later, her grandson Jessie, who works for a restoration company, showed up to help get the cleanup started. In that moment, it all felt like chaos, but now, I see how God was in every detail, guiding her through it. We see Him in every step of the restoration, in every effort to bring her home back to life. And it’s a reminder that even when life feels like it’s falling apart, God is there, working in the background, always preparing a way for healing and renewal.

In the midst of all this, my mom is staying with my sister Grace during the restoration. This act of kindness and love on Grace’s and her husband Josh has meant the world to Mom. Grace’s support has been a steady presence, offering comfort and peace when it’s needed most. I’m reminded of the verse in Proverbs 3:27, which says, “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.” Grace is living this verse by stepping up when it was needed most, offering her home, her time, and her heart to help Mom through this difficult season. Her willingness to care for others, without hesitation, is a reflection of the love God calls us to show one another.

The cleaning process has begun. It’s a long one. Every item had to be removed from the house and cleaned, every wall and surface scrubbed, every bit of soot cleared away. But slowly, day by day, the house is being renewed. And the hope is that when it’s all finished, it will be like nothing ever happened. No smoke. No stains. No lingering reminder of what tried to steal her comfort and peace.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the verse in Isaiah that says, “When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze.” This doesn’t mean we’ll avoid the fire. It means that even when we go through trials and when things feel broken, messy, or damaged God promises that we won’t be consumed by them. The fire may leave scars, and the damage may be real, but it will not destroy us. We will walk through it, and we will come out on the other side, not untouched, but still standing. God’s promise isn’t about avoiding hardship; it’s about His presence in the middle of it, giving us the strength to endure and the hope to rebuild. His faithfulness means that the fire will not have the final word.

That’s what I see in my mom. Her strength isn’t loud, but it’s steady. She’s calm, faithful, and grounded in a God who doesn’t leave us when things go up in flames. He walks right through the fire with us. And even when the smell of smoke still lingers, He’s already working to make things new again.

Maybe you’re in the middle of your own fire right now. Maybe it’s not something you can see, but something you feel, a loss, setback a season that has left its mark. I want you to know this  God is not finished. The damage you see now is not the end of the story. He restores, he heals and he rebuilds until even the evidence of the pain begins to fade.

And one day, like my mom’s home, your life will be filled with peace again. No smell of smoke. No soot on the walls. Just the quiet beauty of a God who makes all things new.