Highway to Hell

This morning at 5:30 am I was jarred from my peaceful sleep to the sound of AC/DC’s song Highway to Hell. Our windows were open, and it was LOUD. I thought about how appropriate the song was considering today is the three-week mark of losing our fur babies and our house burning down. I laid in bed for 30 minutes wondering when security was going to inform the Club of the blunder and put my pillow over my head. I decided that instead of complaining about the situation (even though I have to get up tomorrow at 3am to make my 6:00am flight) that I would try to think about the positive things going on in our lives.

It wasn’t easy to shift gears. I was cranky. Snarky even. All I could think of is that I don’t want to leave right now. I know I will enjoy the time with our daughter. Part of me wants to curl up in bed and just forget the world now. But I didn’t want to let our daughter down. So, I got my rear end out of bed and got dressed. (It is still difficult for me to eat and sleep—please continue to pray for me in that area).

As I headed out the door the UPS man arrived with a few boxes for us. It reminded me that there are people out there praying for us and sending gifts to help replenish items we lost in the fire.

I ran a few errands and Jordan met me at the rental to pick up all the photos we found in the house yesterday. She has done an extraordinary job saving our photos for us. It is an immense labor of love and it reminded me that I do have so much to be thankful.

I met Tim for lunch and could hardly stomach the thought of eating. Once we talked about a few “insurance business” items I started to feel less anxious about life. We have an arduous task before us in trying to list all the items in our house for the insurance company, but I know we can do it.  It may take awhile but we will get it done.  (I would suggest to anyone who would like to avoid this nightmare to take photos of everything in your home. Inside of cabinets and drawers. EVERYTHING)

This afternoon I packed for my trip, unpacked a few items at our rental house and pondered where we were 3 weeks ago today. I had told Tim when we first got on the scene that I knew we had lost Essie for sure in the fire—but that I couldn’t lose both she and Ella. I told him I couldn’t survive it. And yet, here I am. I am alive. By the grace of God, He has given me everything I need to get through this tragedy. Life will slowly get back to normal, whatever normal is. We will take each day moment by moment. I can’t think about the big picture right now. It’s too much. And that is okay. I only need to have the strength for this moment. God will take care of the rest.

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