Blessed

>Although it had been days ago, I could feel the ground coming up to meet my knees as I fell helplessly in my yard. I could see Adam’s shocked expression as he found the tank. I could see my beautiful baby girl lying on the ground, screaming as she watched our lives vaporize and disappear. I could see our three beautiful, funny dogs and our eight curious and distinctly different cats dying in front of us. Boom! Boom! Boom! Over and over. Boom! Boom! Boom! I could not turn off my thoughts or feelings. For the next few months, I spent most of my night watching Gabi and Adam sleep, perched and ready to move into action if there was any sign of danger. Ironically, not sleeping made reliving and seeing this nightmare in my mind worse. It is overwhelming fear that made the first thing I purchased for our new apartment a gas/propane detector, even though there was no propane anywhere near us.

We planned for Gabi to return to school on Tuesday, after the explosion. She was nervous and wasn’t sure about going back. She had already seen a couple of her friends and was able to text others, thanks to our friends Helen and Rich. They gave her an iPad so she could text and reconnect with her pals. Gabi’s friends were very supportive of her. She feared going back because of the questions she might face. She was starting over as well.

Monday evening, Gabi was lying on the couch with her head in my lap. As I stroked her hair, I asked, “Are you excited to go back to school?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.

“Why don’t you know?”

“What if I’m in trouble?” she asked.

Puzzled by her question, I asked, “Why would you be in trouble?”

She began to cry. “All my school stuff is gone.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I explained, “You’re not in trouble for that. Your teachers know what happened. They understand. We will get you everything you need.”

Gabi’s computer, books, backpack, and homework had all been destroyed. This was the one instance her teachers were not going to count her homework as missing. They knew well what had happened. In fact, our ordeal prompted the school to have a fire drill on Friday, after hearing of our escape. Gabi found this out from her friends.

To our surprise, five inches of snow fell Monday night, blanketing the city of Charleston. School was canceled for Tuesday, delaying her going back to school another day. Gabi has always loved snow. Normally, we would go outside in the yard on snow days and build forts that the dogs would later tear down. Then we would have a fire pit, with the dogs all around us, and spend the rest of the day sledding down our hill or having snowball battles. All of that was gone. This was our new normal. We were in an apartment, without a sled, without our dogs, and without snow clothes.

Trying to make the best of our situation, we doubled up our clothing and went outside. We didn’t have gloves, so we used an extra pair of socks over our hands to keep our hands warm. We went outside to the grassy area in front of our apartment and made snowmen with gravel eyes. Then we threw snowballs at each other. It was freezing cold. I was exhausted, but I wanted to show Gabi that life goes on and just enjoy the time with her. I loved seeing a smile on her face again. My time with Gabi is the best time of my life, no comparison.

On Wednesday, the roads were clear, and Gabi returned to school. I had coordinated with her teachers to come in just after the bell rang so she could avoid a lot of extra questions or feeling overwhelmed in the morning. As planned, Gabi and I arrived just after the first bell. We walked into the classroom together. Her friends jumped up from their seats to hug her. It was very sweet. I let out a sigh of relief as I watched her enjoy seeing her friends. I stayed with her, and we talked to the class together. Most of her friends had seen her house burning on the news. If they didn’t see the news firsthand, they knew what had happened by hearing it from other people. Kids are curious, and wonderfully so. In this situation, I didn’t want her to face any questions by herself or relive the experience repeatedly throughout the day.

Gabi’s homeroom teacher, Miss Ramey, hugged us both as we went up to the front of the classroom. Miss Ramey is a wonderful teacher. She is young, with great energy to match her fifth-grade class. She is incredibly intelligent, demure, and a godly example to her young students.

Gabi was shy about talking first. She didn’t know how to start the conversation with her class. Feeling a little overwhelmed myself, I could easily see how this could be too much for her. With a deep breath, I started, “Gabi and I are very happy to be here today, and I know you all have a lot of questions. There are a lot of stories about what happened last Friday. We are going to tell you all about our ordeal. After that, feel free to ask us any questions you like. After the questions, Miss Ramey will start class.” I paused. “You may have seen on the news that our house exploded and burned.”

I went on to tell a more kid-friendly version of how we discovered the propane tank and the events leading up to the explosion. I wanted not to frighten but to inform them. Also, there had been a rumor circulating that we were blown from the home and survived. I wanted the kids to know the truth.

“Gabi, her daddy, and I are all very lucky to be here. We praise God that we are here. He had a plan for us. What happened to us is very scary, but it is not common. I hope you take this opportunity to talk to your parents about safety in your house and have a plan in case of a fire or another emergency.”