These past weeks have shown us – if we didn’t realize – what happens when fire comes sweeping through a community. For some, this is the first up-close and personal look of the power…and the cost…of fire. Fire is a big deal to me, ever since I watched our RV burn years ago, just after we scrambled out of it to the side of the freeway. It’s not just that fire and smoke destroyed it – and many things in it – it’s more what happened inside me as I responded to it. The pain and trauma of that moment has long gone, but during it I felt a sense of danger, harm and fear. Trauma can occur when we face a perceived threat or dangerous situation. It is an unconscious reaction to bad things that are happening or have happened. Depending on our different personal experiences, history, and personality, the same event can provoke different reactions within each of us. It could be loss, grief, numbness, fear, confusion, disorientation…or some combination of these things. And the intensity of these re

I don’t often close the windows of our house in early September, but I found myself doing it this week to keep out the smoke of the nearby wildfires. And this unusual, unseasonal behavior got me thinking about windows.  Windows.  I love windows. They can give us wonderful views of the outside world, and where I live, that’s a gift to see. I love watching the trees dance in the wind, the flowers open their petals to the sun, and the stretch of open land filled with greenery that leads down to the nearby river. When I look out my windows, I normally am reminded of the goodness and greatness and creativity of our great God.  So my windows usually provide a view of a world I want to see. A world of beauty. This week, though, it’s all changed. Smoke from the nearby fires surround and envelop our decades old trees, smoke fills our garden with a yellow tinge to the point where day seems almost like night. Our porch is covered with ash.  It’s a bit freaky. And so, I close the windows to keep o