Calling All Reinforcements
Beyond the smoke: Finding connection in crisis
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It’s 1996. Our two kids are 8 and 6 years old when we move into a ranch house on a quiet cul de sac.
Our new rectangular home means the kids’ bedrooms are down one hallway close to a back door, while the master bedroom is on the other end near the front.
It’s a change. The kids feel far away and I’m nervous.
Then I have a nightmare.
The house is on fire, it’s like the hallway is now a mile long and we’re far apart. I run out the front, smoke is billowing and have no idea if the kids made it out the back.
I wake up in a sweat.
That day I identify a “safe” tree in the front yard, just off the sidewalk that runs along the street. It’s a rendezvous point. The children won’t have to cross the street to get to the tree, I reason, especially with a firetruck barreling up to the curb.
We practice. The kids leap down the lawn, laughing and grab the tree in a hug.
I’m relieved.
And as they grow older, I use the rendezvous point idea over and over. “If we get separated in the Fourth of July Festival,. . .” I instruct. “If the elevator doors close before you can get on. . .”
Again and again, and yet, I don’t ever remember actually using the safe rendezvous point.
But it comforted me to have it.
Setting Up a Prayer Brigade
Fast forward to 2017, my mom travels to Santa Barbara to visit my sister-in-law and children. My brother’s gone to Germany on business and my retired kindergarten-teacher mother is happy to fly out to California from Illinois to help with the children—ages 3 and 1—packing lots of crafts and songs and toddler tricks alongside clothes in her suitcase.
As she told me later, she’s just walked into the kitchen of their little mountain bungalow and set down her suitcase,—opening her arms wide to hug the three-year-old—when a neighbor charges through the door behind her. “Evacuate! Evacuate!” he yells, feverishly pointing out their glass sliding door.
As she watches, up the hill, the roof on the house next door ignites in flames.
My mom grabs the three-year-old’s hand and her suitcase in the other, while my SIL pulls her passport out of a drawer, picks up the baby and a package of diapers. Seconds later they are peeling out of the driveway as a fire engine shoots by, siren wailing, and they turn to careen down the mountain.
I’ve always admired my SIL’s presence of mind to grab her passport.
And diapers! —that’s a mom.
A few hours later, my mother calls from California. I hear the events I’ve just told you. They’re safe in a shelter in town. I call my sister and other brother for reinforcements. It’s like we set up an immediate prayer brigade. For safety, for protection, for calm.
We’re a rendezvous point.
To hold my SIL, and the children close in thought.
And to support our mom whom although we know she is a rock-steady presence, she’s called for reinforcements and, of course, we respond.
So right there on the sofa and two thousand miles away, I do my best to stay vigilant. To not give in to fear, but to assert that intelligence and love is in action. To calm my thought so that I can hear actionable ideas.
Meanwhile, upon hearing the news once he landed in Germany, my brother immediately turns around to catch a return flight to California. Some days later, he and my SIL hike up the mountain (as the roads are closed) to check on the house.
Miraculously, their house is one of those crazy stories where the fire burned around but not into their home.
Today’s Fires in LA
Both of these stories have come back to me this past week as news traced the horrific trail of the LA fires.
I bet we’re similar in that thanks to today’s mobile society I have far-flung family and friends spread across the country. I also am a member of vibrant author communities and former employer acquaintances and a special school/university network so that familiar faces always come to thought associated with news events no matter where in the world.
I pray for their safety from harm.
When people we care about stretch shore to shore, all (un)natural disasters are personal. It doesn’t matter that I’m sitting on my sofa, thousands of miles away. The internet, social media, text messages—we’re immediately connected.
Global becomes local.
So where’s our safe rendezvous point?
Certainly not in blaming, or in condemning. Not in “othering,” nor denigrating nor dividing.
This is a time we come together in universal, unambiguous compassion.
From there can come action: Contributing money or donating goods or texting an LA friend or joining a cause. Whatever comes to you in response.
I reinforce that.
Ways to Support People, Emergency Responders, and Animals Impacted by the LA Fires
BOBBIE, providing free baby formula to parents affected by the fires
Evolving List of GoFundMe’s for Families Who Have Lost Their Homes
I've been struck by two recent Substacks on LA: 1) Brooke Warner's piece urging authors to reach beyond their initial "I have no words" response to this tragedy, and 2) this one, which shows how words help us grasp the incomprehensible. This is such a human and compelling piece.
Wow. What a story. And so apropos for the moment. Thanks for sharing this with us!