On May 1st, Joe was gone for an all-night youth
group event. I never enjoy it when Joe is away overnight, but that night I was
extra uneasy. I laid awake for hours; unable to go to sleep with a heightened
sense of fear. So to calm myself down, I started quoting scripture. The very
last passage that I remember quoting was Psalm 23. “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in
green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads
me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me…surely
goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell
in the house of the Lord forever.” I didn’t know it then, but God was
preparing my heart for the trial that lay ahead. I was about walk through the
valley, but he gave me the promise that He would walk through it with me. It
was with a peace-filled heart that I fell asleep.
Not even 2 hours later, I woke up to a very faint beeping
sound and Evelyn’s cries coming from the baby monitor. “Why is she crying now?
What is that beeping?” Confused and disoriented, I made my way downstairs.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I knew that something was wrong. I had
figured out that it was the fire alarm that was going off, and I could see a
bright light shining through the opening of the bedroom door. I ran into the
room and took in a scene that will stick with me for the rest of my life. There
was a fire burning in the middle of a box fan and smoke was filling the room.
And in the middle of it all, not even a foot away from the flame, lay our
precious baby girl, screaming in fear. I snatched her up and ran back to our
room as quickly as I could.
After calling Joe and making sure Evelyn was ok, I ran back
down to the bedroom with a fire extinguisher. I tried to pull the pin so that I
could put out the fire, but the pin would not budge. By that point, the smoke
was getting so thick that I could hardly see or breathe. It was in that moment
that I knew our lives would never be the same.
Before you have a fire, you think about what you would try
to save before you would leave the house. I had always planned on taking the
home videos, pictures, a few special family items, and my wedding dress. But
when the moment actually happened, all I cared about saving was our children. I
know the Lord was with me that night as I calmly picked up Evelyn, woke up a
very sleepy Fletcher and Sophie, and got as far away from the house as
possible. I never had a thought of grabbing keys, coats, or even shoes. All I
wanted was to get our babies out safely.
As we waited for Joe and the firemen to come, I desperately
wanted to quote scripture to the kids as they sat next to me, cold and scared.
I have memorized hundreds of verses in my life, but in that moment, I couldn’t
think of a single one. I tried racking my brain for a comforting verse, but in
my traumatized state, nothing came. Finally, a verse that had been reiterated
in my head for so long that it had nearly lost its meaning overflowed out of my
heart with a beautiful freshness. “Even
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me…surely goodness
and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” Christ, my Good Shepherd, had been with me every
step I took that night, and he was not going to leave us in the days ahead. And
just like a police officer hunts down a criminal, God’s never stopping, never
giving up, always and forever love was chasing us down, lavishing undeserved grace
on his children.
The following day, my body went into a post-traumatic state.
I felt as stiff as a board, unable to relax. Any time I thought about the fire,
I had to tell myself to breathe. I would try to rest, but all I could hear were
alarms going off and Evelyn’s cries coming from the monitor, even though she
was fast asleep next to me. I was terrified of going to sleep for fear of
waking up to flames. My thoughts were in a constant state of the possibilities
of what could have happened instead of what did. My mind was so much in that
state, that my reality had become losing Evelyn to the fire, even though God
had miraculously spared her. So while I was holding her in my arms, I was
mourning her death at the same time.
When I realized where my mind was living, I had to force myself
to think on what was true. Truth was that God had woken me to a quiet alarm
sound, a woman who normally sleeps through thunderstorms and ringing phones.
Truth was that even though Fletcher and Sophie, who had never been close to the
flames, reeked of smoke, while Evelyn, who had been surrounded by the smoke,
smelled as if she had just gotten out of the bath tub. Truth was that God had
given me peace and a sound mind so that I could make wise decisions to get our
little family to safety. Truth was that God had shown Himself to be a mighty
rescuer. When I chose to meditate on what was true rather than making the
what-ifs my alternate reality, fear and anxiety were replaced by joy and peace.
God deserved all of the glory for what had happened. He was the one who had said
“yes!” to life, and my fear was robbing Him of the glory that He deserved.
And then, God continued to lavish us with grace through the love
of His saints. You, God's people, wonderfully overwhelmed us with
clothes, groceries, meals, clothes, phone calls, visits, clothes, money, gift
cards, and did I mention clothes?! You wept with us and got down on your knees
for us. I would later find out that the first night after the fire, God had
woken up women in the church in the middle of the night, burdening them to pray
for us. As I heard the different accounts, I realized that at least one woman
was praying for us every hour all throughout the night. God had set up a prayer
warrior night watch on our behalf!
I will never be able to adequately thank everyone for all
that you have done for us. You have rejoiced with us in our greatest blessings,
and now you have come alongside us to weep with us. It has meant more to us
than we could ever express. I am confident that someday when you throw your
crowns at Christ’s feet, you will ask, “Lord, when did we give you toys, or
wash your garbage bags of filthy laundry, or make you meals?” He will answer,
“When you did it for the Groppels, the least of my children, you did it for
me.”
For the past few years, I have made it my goal to read
through the bible in a year. In the chronological plan that I use, the month of
May (the month of the fire) is spent reading the Psalms. I see this as another
gift from the Lord. The fire could have taken place during any month of the
year, but God sovereignly allowed it to happen in the time that I was in a
beautiful book about the power, majesty, and splendor of God. I experienced a
sweet fellowship that I have never known before as I was saturated with these
truths. I needed to be in God’s Word.
It was my source of comfort and strength when I was at my weakest. It truly is
sweet to walk with Christ in the valley.
The physical item that has been the hardest thing for me to
lose is our home family videos. We had been given a fireproof box last
Christmas, but I had just never taken the time to put anything in it. So
instead of our memories being placed in that box, I had put them on a shelf
right above the box fan where the fire had started. There have been many times when
my foolishness has tempted me to nearly scream out of frustration. But each
time, Joe lovingly encouraged me, “Becky, God just didn’t want us to have
them.” That was exactly what my heart needed to hear. God is always sovereignly
bringing about his plan, and the loss of our home videos was no different.
I had never understood the apostle Peter’s statement, “Lord
I believe. Help my unbelief!” But through this trial, I learned exactly what it
meant. I believed that God was good, He was always with me, and that everything
He did was for my Christ-likeness. But as I waded through piles of burned
clothing, I didn’t believe that God was good. When I begged Joe to look just
one more time for the lost home videos, it didn’t feel like God was with me.
So, I pleaded, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!” And although it is still a
constant struggle, he has been faithful to answer that prayer. I will never
again watch videos of Joe and I bringing our precious babies home from the
hospital or seeing them eat their first birthday cake. But even if I don’t ever
understand it, God knows that I can be more like Christ without those videos
(and everything else that we lost) than I ever could be with them safely placed
in a fireproof box. It may not every make earthly sense, but He loves me too
much to let that happen.
As the weeks passed, I began to feel very homesick. 3 times a
week we would pass the parsonage on our way to church. As we drove by, I would look
through the windows. The couches were still there, the girls’ bows were still hanging
on the wall, but everything we had owned was now completely unusable. I could
see my home, but I couldn’t enjoy it with my family. I longed for a place to
call home, but there was no way for that to happen. It was then that I finally recalled
the last part of Psalm 23. “I will dwell
in the house of the Lord forever.” I realized that the very thing that my
heart was longing for was already mine. Christ had paid for my home, a perfect,
un-burnable one, with his very own blood. I might not have had a home on this
earth, but Christ had already purchased one for me where I could intimately
know and enjoy Him forever. Christ is better than a house made of brick. A
house on earth could never satisfy the deepest longing of my heart. Only my
Savior could do that.
Even though I have experienced losing it all, through it I
gained much. I have learned that my deceitful heart is prone to doubt God during
times of trial. It is easy for me to
trust God when I am living in comfort, ease, and happiness. But my trust
quickly turns to anger when He brings about pain. Again, I have to pray constantly
that God will help me believe what I know to be true: loss is gain, brokenness
is healing, and God shines brighter in the darkness. His grace is sufficient to
help me choose trust rather than doubt. Trust will always be the more
joy-filled option.
I have learned to think with a more eternal, Kingdom mindset.
Physical things can be taken away in an instant, but souls will last forever. I
can either spend my life gathering and loving stuff, or I can invest in the
lives of others. I can either worship my things, or I can worship the God who
gave me those things to enjoy and point back to Himself. I have learned that no
one is promised tomorrow. We never know how long we will have here on earth or
how long we will have with our children.
I have learned the importance of enjoying every day that He
gives me with my family and to use it for His glory. It used to be such a
bittersweet time for me as our children grew out of one adorable stage and
began an equally adorable, but more grown up one. But the fire changed everything.
Now, I am able to thank God for the stage we just enjoyed, and praise Him for
letting us watch the next one happen. What a gift!
A few days after the fire, Fletcher said to me, “Mommy, God
gave us the fire so that we would know that He is great.” What a blessing our
little boy has been to his weary mommy! His child-like faith was able to look
beyond the circumstances and see the God who orchestrated them all. It has been
my prayer that my heart would echo both Fletcher and King David who said “Let
those who love your salvation say, ‘God is great!’”
I wish I could stand before you and say that I went through
this trial with a complete trust in God and with fullness of joy. But I cannot.
I have struggled my way through it all, constantly fighting for joy and a peace
that passes all understanding. But what I can
tell you is that when I was faithless, my God remained faithful. And before He
ever formed time and space, he looked beyond my shaking fist aimed right at
him. Instead of punishing me like I deserved, he chose to love me anyway
because of the beautiful sacrifice His Son made on the cross, paying for my
rebellion in my place. And for that I am thankful.
