It takes something like this for me to realize I don't live in California. (I'm enjoying a long denial). I keep thinking I'll schedule a visit to places in California and it takes me a minute to remember that I can't just jump over to the Noah's Ark exhibit, or to Zeke's BBQ in Montrose, to a Souplantation lunch with Doris, or to the well-traveled Arboretum.
I was worried to hear about the fire in SM because that is a big part of our ward family (here, we just have a ward so far, but there we have our "ward family"). Many families we know and love fell within the fire evacuation area. David and Megan reassured me that the fire would likely take no homes or lives and would be contained by Wednesday. I was practical and decided all was fine.
But then, during our couple prayer last night, I prayed for our friends and ward family in Sierra Madre, and started blubbering like a baby. David teased me for being a baby, and then apologized, and then we thoughtfully chatted about our missed "home."
David said not often, but sometimes, he just realizes suddenly, "I don't live in California." And get's horribly depressed for a minute. I had one of those minutes last night.
Miss and love you guys. God bless you all--and your homes and lungs.
Valerie
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