The fire appeared to consume everything in its path. There was nothing the services could do to salvage anything.
By the time they managed to control and eventually extinguish the furious flames all that remained were charred ashes. There wasn’t that much the clean up crew had to sort out in the wreckage. When they finished, he sat among the ruins. Tears streaming down his eyes almost as relentlessly as the fire had scorched the house. His home. His home that he had invested twenty years of his life building, maintaining and maximising. His home that went from nothing to a place of creativity and warmth. From an idea to a location for rest, love, food, relationship, service and benevolence. So much had happened in it, this was not just a place of brick and mortar. This home was rich in beautiful memories.
Now it was all gone.
The state of helplessness paralysed him. He did nothing to stop the tears or prevent them messing up his clothes as well as his face. He could barely do anything, but sit. And cry. Cry at the loss.
After a few hours a consoling hand touched his shoulder. He didn’t acknowledge it at first, but it was insistent. As was the voice.
“Get up. You no longer belong here. You must get up.”
“But what do I do? This took so long to build. This cost so much to develop. What am I supposed to do?”
“Build a new home.”
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
C. L. J. Dryden
Life With CD 