Can't take it with you

After church today, we picked up donuts at QD like any other Sunday. We ate them at home, and while I cleaned up the kitchen, we heard emergency sirens come closer and closer until it sounded like the trucks were on our street. Which they were. Because the house across from us, where a family with a little girl Nellie's age and a newborn live, was in flames. Smoke poured from the bedroom windows and flames were already shooting out of the front living room window. It was terrible. From the way the firefighters were working, it was clear that no one was inside, but the thought of all the family lost had me in tears on and off all day.

Plus, their family is so like ours. The girls like to play together at the park down the street, and always yell hello whenever they spot each other coming out of their houses. Remarkably, they seem to have the same energy level, and make up games together that involve little more than running and falling down. The little boy was just born at Christmas.

Our neighbor two doors down is a firefighter, and she housed the dad the and kids for the day. The mom was at work. I was there when he called her to tell her that there had been a fire, and when the fire department told him not to expect to recover anything from the house. The three-year-old was still in her jammies, so we packed up some of Nellie's clothes for her. Nellie took it all in stride. She was fascinated by the fire trucks (all six, plus an ambulance, police car, and two regular fire department vehicles) and was mainly concerned that her friend had plenty of princess clothes. Nellie helped me deliver them, then stayed to play Barbies while I went back for a portable crib and bouncy seat.

It's hard to know what to say, or how to help, in this situation. What would I do in this situation? If I lost all my worldly possessions? I mean, I know it's just stuff--stuff I complain about dusting and organizing and finding places for. But still, they're the artifacts of our lives, and the lives of others who came before. And what, what would I tell my kids? I hope it would be this: "Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD" (Job 1:21).

All in all, it was a grounding experience, and a good reminder. Our stuff isn't that important. And you can't take it with you.