“It’s all gone. The garage is gone.”
I was 3 hours away on a 2 day trip flying puppies for my puppy business, planning on coming home that afternoon. Tuesday, June 16th, early morning a fight broke out in the hallway of my hotel that was across the street from the Minneapolis-St.Paul Airport. I called my husband, he didn’t answer.
I nervously watched pushing, shoving, name calling, door slamming right outside my door wanting so bad to load up and leave but feared what danger this would expose me to by walking through it. Was I safer in my room- they didn’t know I was here. I pushed all the furniture up to the door and got back in bed. Somehow I managed to sleep for a few hours but awoke wide awake at 5a.m.
I sent my husband a text, he responded with an unexpected phone call.
Me: “Gosh I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Daniel: “No I just randomly woke up now, why’s a dog in the house?”
Me: “She must have came in when April (family friend who came to milk our cow that night) came to milk last night.”
Daniel: “Oh what time did she come?”
Me: “I think she came around 10, left at 11.”
Daniel: (opening the front door)”What the hell, it’s gone, the garage is gone.”
Me: “What? What do you mean the garage is gone? Daniel, what are you talking about? Daniel?”
Daniel: –no response but I could hear him choking up. “The garage burned down.”
Me: “Our garage burned down?”
Before I could ask more he said he had to hang up and call the sheriff.
Like a thief in the night.
He followed standard protocol by calling the Sheriff, the fire department, and his parents to come help get kids up. I packed up everything and got to the airport with the last puppy to fly early hoping the flight would come in sooner than later so I could get going home.
Daniel said it wasn’t even smoking. It didn’t even smell like a fire ever happened as he stood amongst the pile of ashes with the local fire department and police officer. The fire came and went like a thief in the night without leaving a calling card of recognition where it started or when it stopped.
I stopped on my way home to buy more feed for our livestock. I got home and unloaded the feed only to realize we didn’t have a bucket. Or a shovel. An overwhelming feeling of disarray.
The 30×40 garage that once stood, utilized as my husbands shop, my make shift milking parlor, feed shed, and housed all of our hobby equipment and kids outdoor bikes and toys.
Tools down to the very last screw driver & hammer- gone and whatever remained was wilted and held together with tired welds. Our camping supplies and tent- gone. Kids carseats- gone. Life jackets, fishing, & water sports equipment- gone. Hunting stuff- gone. Feed for our livestock lined shelves- gone. It was no fancy abode by any means but being the only building on our farm gave it a high level of importance in that way for sure.
We stood on the edge of ashes, trying to make sense of the dust and steel skeletons that remained. My feelings boxed each other around and around, sad for what was lost but grateful it was just the garage.
A spring of hope.
90° degree sun beat down, suffocating our midwestern Minnesota land that week as the green terrain fade to brown. Farmers prayed for rain. Funnels of dirt filtered off fields, dancing about in the 30+mph South wind gusts. It was hot, dry, and windy the day and evening of the fire.
All summer, a garden hose is draped across our driveway looping around the south side of our garage to easily water the garden to the left and the hogs right behind it. I leave a spray nozzle on the end and the hydrant on for convenience. The fires desire to run with the wind happily mowed through the dry grass and started chewing into the garden hose. The hydrant pumped water through the garden hose saturating the ground between the pigs, garden and garage.
We don’t know what started the fire, but we know what stopped it. I have no idea what would have become of the fire if the garden hose wasn’t there to stop the spread.
Although, the fire didn’t directly spread into the garden, the high heat killed all potential I had growing in the garden. Thinking positively- it also took care of the weeding I hadn’t gotten to either. I’m going to continue to water it in case any hopeful life has a desire to return.
The pigs were also awfully close. They are eating and drinking fine, but do have some open welts (most likely heat sores) on their backs. We’ve been doctoring them up with vaseline and iodine solution to keep the flies outta the all day buffet.
It’s a God thing.
Family and friends kindly remind, “Insurance will hopefully cover you nicely.” And yes, insurance will be helping but it’s still a lot to recover and replace. But- I feel violated.
The feeling of having something you’ve worked hard to care for and build being taken from you without permission is a big fat old pill to swallow and accept. Insurance doesn’t cover that. I was content with what we had. We don’t need new or big or better. The broken down, rusty crumbly crap is really where I find inspiration.
There was something about that garage that God knew wouldn’t be suitable for where we are headed next. Not sure what the hell we will be doing next since we already do all the jobs but time will tell (insert shoulder shrug).
Delicate Destruction.
How does a garden hose stop a raging fire in a drought with 30mph wind? We found a yearbook of my husbands in the ashes. How does an entire structure explode but the physical being of paper remain? How does something so powerful leave such delicate reminders of faith. Incredible. Delicate. Destruction. Thank you God for your power to control the fire, thank you God for your power to seek hope in it too.
