Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity-Jig (Again)

I've used that title before, but it's what I always think of when I return home after a long absence. I blame Bladerunner for initiating it and the Parker boy for imprinting it indelibly in my brain.

We are indeed home again—Running Springs residents were allowed back up on Thursday. It was a strange trip. For the most part, there was little noticeable damage on the way up, and then large swaths of devastation from our street upward. We didn't lose any homes in our stretch, but the fire ran right up behind our access road. It came within about 50-60 yards of our house and perhaps a dozen from our storage shed; some of our neighbors' decks were singed. We were incredibly blessed and the firefighters did an amazing job. Despite the many losses, the number of homes saved—and obviously saved by a hair's breadth, and at great risk—was incredible.

Our house smelled like the inside of a furnace, and even after washing everything we own, the odor of smoke still lingers. It's been strange getting back to "normal" life, and the ideas I've been mulling over about transcending the mundane are sticking with me. Lately my prayer has been for God to lead me in an extraordinary life, to remind me daily of His larger view. Yes, the everyday tasks still have to be done (and even done with more dedication and energy than I normally devote to them), but they don't define my existence. I prayed some months ago (during the uncertainty over the Idyllwild land deal) that I only wanted God's biggest plan for me, the largest dreams He laid upon my heart, and that I should not settle for less. I think He's been faithful to remind me of that and is training me in that direction.

I did not expect to write about this, actually, but it seems to have forced itself onto my blog nonetheless. I guess I've been taken lately with this idea of the extraordinary life (pardon the repetition—it's the phrase I've had in my mind since this began and I can't seem to shake it) and the ways we allow ourselves to be distracted by the surface issues of the world. I know I certainly get all caught up in them until I can barely see anything else and God's words somehow seem distant and hollow. I think Kathie and Chris, living out on the pointy end in situations that force them beyond themselves, have been pushed out into that clarity of vision, and Slater's right: it's probably where we need to be.

Okay, enough of that blather. I'm off to go wash some dishes—extraordinarily!