The DOs and DON'Ts of Dealing with a Fire Victim.

Having lost my home in last year’s Waldo Canyon fire, I gleaned a lot of experience on how this traumatic event feels. So, I’ve compiled a list of Dos and DON’Ts for when you talk with a fire victim.

First, the DON’Ts:

1.     DON’T say, “You and your family are safe. That’s what’s really important.” While this is technically true, it also sounds condescending and preachy. The family is of course very happy that each member got out safely. They don’t need you to tell them what is and isn’t important. Besides, they just lost almost everything they owned.

2.     DON’T say, “Well, good thing it was just stuff.” Definitely don’t say this, in any form. The fact is, it isn’t just stuff. Not only were all their essentials burned (even down to things we take for granted, like towels and silverware), but also many things that held strong sentimental value. These people lost wedding dresses, family heirlooms, quilts made by grandmothers, baby clothes, china, and more. Some people even lost precious pets.

3.     DON’T say, “I’m kind of jealous that you get to get all-new stuff.” You may be trying to help the person see the bright side, but this comment comes off as insensitive. First of all, it’s not about you. Second of all, it’s actually a very stressful, time-consuming process to replace so much.

4.     DON’T say, “I’m sorry you lost your dog/cat/horse/etc. At least all the people are safe.” A large number of pet owners see their animals as a part of their family. It’s heartbreaking to lose one, especially in such a tragic way.

5.     DON’T try to talk a lot about the tragedy or stay and visit for more than a few minutes if you come by to drop something off. It’s a lot to process, and fire victims have a lot to grieve. Having to talk and socialize can wear them thin.

6.     DON’T assume that the victims should “get over it.” Their house, their belongings, and possibly their pets/animals were ripped away from them in a violent way. Some may have lived in the same house most of their lives. Some may have just moved to the area, buying their very first home as a married couple. Everyone feels like they have been raped mentally and emotionally. This is a situation where Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can pop up, and understandably so.

7.     DON’T say, “I know how you feel. ____________ happened to me a few years ago.” If your situation isn’t exactly the same, then you don’t know how a fire victim feels. And this isn’t the time for comparisons on whose loss/tragic event was worse.

8.     DON’T ever downplay how they’re feeling or insist they see the positive side. Although the initial grief will lessen, this is a tragedy they’ll feel in some form or another for the rest of their lives.

Now, the DOs:

1.     DO send a note or text or other sentiment. Unless you’re family or a very close friend, make it quick at first, promising to check back in later. And then do.

2.     DO feel free to send or drop off a gift or a donation. Even if they get more things than they need, they can pass the extra off to other victims or donate it.

3.     DO be proactive. Make them a meal, offer to babysit kids, etc. Don’t wait for them to ask you, because they probably won’t. Just don’t be forceful or get offended if they tell you, “No thanks.”

4.     DO pray for them. And let them know you’re praying for them. They need peace and hope during this time.

5.     DO offer to help clean up their property if needed. It’s a big job, and if they own the land then they are responsible to get everything cleared out of their area.

6.     DO be a listening ear, but don’t try to dig for details or insinuate yourself. Don’t make any part of this be about you.

7.     DO give gift cards. These people are starting over, and gift cards will help them rebuild their lives, even after insurance has run out (assuming they even got much!).

8.     DO allow them to grieve in their own time, in their own way.

Did I forget anything? Feel free to share in the comments!

The Grey Shroud

The wildfires rage. Strong arms strain to beat back the insidious blaze. Families wait, fearing the unknown. Others sink in the knowledge that their homes have been snatched away by the hungry flames. There is exhaustion, despair, fear.

Smoke covers the city in a grey shroud, as if to symbolize God’s grief for His creation. Even in the grand scheme of the endless universe, we are not small to Him. His all-seeing eyes rest on us, crying with us.

God did not cause this evil. Light does not create darkness—darkness fills the void where the light is blocked out. It creeps into the nooks and crannies where the light is not allowed to shine. In the same way, evil fills the void man has created in his rejection of the Almighty. But praise our Father—He is not overcome or beaten by evil. His power is strong, mighty, overwhelming.

Truly, His heart grieves for us. He feels every pang of loss, sees every tear and tremble. His love and compassion well up and overflow. And it will be seen. It will be seen in the helping hands of a community. In the kind words of a neighbor. In the gifts of friends. In the strength of family. He will provide, comfort, and tend. Those who have fallen down will be lifted up.

This city is not forgotten.

Reality (TV) Bites.

Reality TV has always annoyed me.

At first I couldn't put my finger on it. But after a while, I realized what it was that bothered me so much. If you watch just about any reality show, you'll notice that there's always plenty of fighting, name-calling, and humiliation. Of course, this is done on purpose by the casting folks, the directors, and the editors--they've gotten it down to a science, making skeezy people look even more skeezy, and encouraging petty arguments between the contestants/stars.

HOW is this entertainment? If my family fought as much as the people on the TV do, I'd probably have to go to counseling. So why would I want to subject myself to this on a television show that's supposed to be .... fun?

There's something in us, deep down and hidden, that enjoys the baser and darker side of life. Just look back to the Romans as an example. Their major form of entertainment centered around watching animals and people kill each other. The victims were real people going into the arena--people with unique personalities, families, hopes, and dreams--all sacrificed in order to entertain a mob. And some of them were actually innocent prisoners (such as the Christians) who weren't even given a chance to fight to save their lives. They were literally torn apart while the people in the stands cheered.

Obviously, we're not at the point of being entertained by real death and pain. But there's a very clear hunger for watching human suffering. Reality shows consistently make fun of people, pit people against each other, and revel in conflict. Talk shows put people on a stage and let them share their darkest secrets and their most depraved habits. Even most of our fiction shows center around murder, crime, conflict, and death.

Here in a America, we seem to feel that it's our right to be entertained in any way we see fit. We enjoy watching singing and dancing contestants laughed at and cut down by the judges. We set our DVRs to record the latest reality show about a celebrity train wreck. We click our tongues while reading a magazine article about a Hollywood actress's struggle with her weight (often while shoving a doughnut into our own mouths). And we think that we have a right to make fun of and laugh at a disturbed music star who dies of a drug overdose (my Facebook News Feed from a couple weeks ago illustrates that).

When did we become so entitled that we feel we deserve to enjoy the suffering and conflict of others? Where's the compassion and care for these people who, really, aren't so different from us? As cheesy as the saying is, we seem to have lost the ability to walk a mile in someone else's shoes.

Hm. Sad.

Honestly, this post isn't meant to judge others. I have often found myself enthralled with a "Who's the Father?" episode of Maury Povich, laughing at a girl naively singing off-key in an American Idol audition, and secretly feeling satisfied when certain celebrities are publicly embarrassed. And it's hard to feel bad about it sometimes. Maybe because this sort of entertainment is the norm nowadays.

I think I've been on a soapbox, so I'll get down now. But I'd love to hear your thoughts, opinions, and/or rebuttals on this subject!

Utter Nonsense

Even though my last blog post was met with more chirping crickets than rave reviews, I'm going to write another one. If nothing else, I can hope that someday this immortalized piece of weirdness will thoroughly embarrass my daughter.

Everyone, my baby girl is one month old today. I can't even believe that. I can't believe that I'm so in love with someone I've only known a month. I can't believe how big she's getting already. I can't believe I'm still surviving.

In this first month, I've learned a lot of important things. And possibly the most important of those things is that, when very tired, my husband may talk in his sleep. This isn't just a word or two, folks. We actually can have a short conversation until he wakes up and realizes he's talking nonsense--which usually leads to him getting annoyed at me for not understanding what he was trying to say. Even though it usually happens when I'm really tired too, it never fails to make me laugh at his expense. I think you should too.

So, I feel like I need to follow up on the last blog I wrote before I took a short (long) hiatus. "Finally!" you say in relief. "I've been waiting forever for this!"

In that blog, I said I was going to try a media fast. I have to be honest ... I did not go on a media fast. Why?

Because.

I did, however, quit playing Facebook games. Yes, friends. I played Facebook games. More than one or two, actually. Don't judge me. They were fun for a while, but I'm glad I quit. They took up a lot more time than I'd like to admit, and I'm pretty sure some of my game posts started to annoy most of my friends list. It's also nice to no longer have to worry about my farm catching fire or my little city collapsing or my puppy dying if I don't log on in time. I'm sure that has all happened in my absence, but the "Block Application" feature keeps me from knowing about it and feeling like a bad landlord to all my little virtual people.

This blog really didn't say much of anything interesting, did it? Well, as an apology, I will share the link to the most amazing piece of music ever composed. Just click here to hear it.

You're welcome.

A Blog Post??

Holy crap. I'm posting a blog.

I've been meaning to post again for quite some time. Admittedly, this is partially due to the fact that I want to make my first three blog attempts look less lamesauce by actually creating a robust blog. But I also enjoy blogging. Apparently I'm just too lazy to post for almost a year.

Anyway. Not much has happened since my last post.

Oh--except for the whole pregnancy and having a baby thing. No big deal. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

I kid, of course. And I have a kid. I guess that means I'm automatically wiser and more mature. Right? Or maybe I'm just more tired. Believe me, babies are adorable, and I absolutely love mine. But they are SO high maintenance! I mean, it's like they can't do anything for themselves. Mine is always demanding one thing or another. Little slave driver.

Someone once told me that having a baby and taking care of it for the first few months was the hardest thing she's ever done. She was COMPLETELY right! I'm beginning to think working 40 hours a week in an office is a piece of cake. And right now, it sounds super restful.

But let me get serious for a moment. In spite of how hard and tiring it is, it really is completely worth it. I love my baby Emma absolutely to pieces. She's so sweet, and I can't even explain how special she already is to me and Byron after only three weeks. The years ahead are looking extremely busy, but also extremely exciting. I've been thinking a lot about how fun it will be to see her smile at me for the first time ... to chat with her when she starts talking in two-year-old language ... to take her to the park ... to put pigtails in her hair ... to hold her hand when we cross the street ... to take her to Disney World ... so many amazing things to look forward to.

Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not deluded enough to think it will always be roses and rainbows and ponies. She has already made sure I am firmly planted in reality by being a bit ... shall we say ... hard to please at times. So I know I will have tantrums in the grocery store, poutiness, and juice stains on the floor. I've already had to deal with sleepless nights, spit up on my clothes, diet changes to accommodate a colicky baby, and ringing eardrums from those times she refuses to be comforted. But strangely, everything is worth it when I look at that sweet face. It's going to be hard to deny this cutie-pie anything. I'm going to have to refine my manipulation-resistance techniques pretty darn quick.

I'm going to stop writing now. But I'm warning you, I will likely write more about my baby in the future.

Just promise me one thing--if I ever start waxing eloquent on my child's bathroom habits, please unsubscribe to this blog. I pledge to you now that I will keep any future mention of my child's bodily functions to myself.

Starving Myself after a Long Absence

All right. I figured that I let you marinate in my last blog long enough. It's time for something fresh and new and bright and shiny and awesome.

Believe it or not, though, this blog is going to be a little more "sober" than my first two posts.And shorter. A very sick pet and two weeks of ruminating on the possibility of a media fast (see the poll to the right) is enough to dampen anyone's spirits.

So, why the poll? Well, lately, I've felt like a stuffed Thanksgiving turkey when it comes to media. Too much. It's shoved into me from all sides! I wanted to see if you all are as fed up as I am.

I'm the first to admit that I may need to go to a rehab clinic or hospital to ride out the withdrawals I would go through if you took away my precious Facebook. And my iPhone? Might as well have it surgically attached to my hand (do they do that??). So, in the interest of avoiding such drastic cosmetic surgery, I've been thinking lately about a media fast.

Although my poll didn't work correctly for the first few hours, I did get some good answers. In a nutshell, everyone who answered would be willing to give up one form of media. It seems that it would be much too hard to give up all media (we're talking Internet as entertainment--not for work--TV, radio, newspaper, the whole shebang). I have to agree with that. It would be spectacularly hard. It would be excruciating.

But would it be GOOD? Imagine a full week without having to hear about the latest celebrity jailbird (Lindsey Lohan, anyone?). Think about actually talking to your best friend rather than just "liking" her status on Facebook. And picture the amazing tan you could get by going outside more rather than vegging out in front of the TV or your favorite video game.

I dunno ... to me, it sounds kind of nice. I might actually find myself a hobby.

But I'm going to start small. This is going to take some thinking and self-convincing, but I'm gonna try to give up ONE form of media for a while and then work my way up. I'll keep you posted on which one will be the first to go.

Before I go pace the room trying to choose how I'm going to starve myself media-wise, I want to ask YA'LLS: If you were going to give up some form of media, what would it be, why, and for how long?

Don't worry, folks. If I end up giving up one or all forms of media, it will only be for a time. You won't have to go long without a new blog post from yours truly.

The Great Sophomore Attempt

So now I'm an experienced blogger. One whole blog under my belt, as well as a few followers who feel sorry for me like my blog. Cool. I had a major panic attack today, though, when I realized the precedent I'd set with my first post. I thought to myself, Now everyone will think I'm funny.

Let's get this out in the open here and now. **I am not funny. I repeat, not funny.** I am weird. There's a big difference. It's best for all of us if you internalize that now before you end up disappointed later.

Moving on.

I figured that, now you know the story of my humble entry into the blogging world, I would treat you all to a little autobiography. This may not seem useful (or even interesting) now, but I want to make it easy for kids to Google me for their history papers come Year 2020. I have excellent foresight.

Anywho, I am married (sorry to all the gentlemen out there. I do hope my two Internet stalkers, Melvin and Earl, don't lose interest.) to a great guy named Lord Byron. Okay, I added the "Lord" part, but I thought it would make for a more interesting research paper for those history students. He's thoroughly wonderful and thoroughly geeky. We'll go into the reasons why he's geeky at a later time. And as a side note, I prefer the term "nerdy"--but Byron told me in no uncertain terms that there's a difference of cosmic proportions between "geeks" and "nerds." Apparently to mix them up means instant death by decapitation.

For the last few years I've worked at a great Christian publishing house here in town. I was most recently an editor. That's just a fancy way of saying, "I can write much better than you." I have been referred to--lovingly, I assume--as an "edi-turd" on a few occasions. However, I'm guessing that Kevin the person-who-shall-not-be-named was merely jealous of my superior writing skills.

My editing days are not quite over, but lately my job has morphed and congealed into coordinating constituents who will rally behind our conglomerate and thereby assess our vendibles, wherefore by which assessments we shall implement needed changes that will make our output top-notch. In other words, I am the Beta Liaison. In OTHER other words, I get to choose a group of churches who will test our new Sunday School curriculum line and provide feedback that we'll use to make changes and enhancements. It's the bomb-diggity, and I like it.

Like most people, I have two parents. You might think they believe in tough love (judging by my mother's doubtful comment to my very first blog ... all I ever wanted was your approval, momma!!), but they're actually pretty cool. They live around here, and they haven't yet gotten annoying enough that the hubby and I hide behind furniture when they ring our doorbell. I have three sisters too, and it's probably best not to ask about that. I grew up in an atmosphere of estrogen overload, so I am on a strict regimen of one Keanu Reeves movie a day to get rid of the excess emotions I was subjected to during my formative years.

That's really all I have to say about that. You might think that my life isn't really very interesting, but the truth is that I need to make it a little more difficult for students to write their papers. I'm sure their teachers will require multiple sources.

All right, friends, I'm going to sign off now and go watch The Matrix.