Blogger: Janet Kobobel Grant
Note: I had written this essay before Rachel posted hers on the fire last Friday. Great minds and all that! My recounting of the fire unfolds more of the events, and I reflect on how the fire affected me. As I keep repeating to each person I talk to in our town, “Everyone has his or her own story about the fire.” Here’s mine:
“We lost our innocence.” That’s how one of my friends summarized the effect the fires that descended on Santa Rosa October 8 had on our community.
We’re all still processing what happened to us that first night when the 70 mph winds, appropriately named Diablo, licked the fire through a mountain range. Then the flames reached Santa Rosa and its populace, which was snoozing through a Sunday night. The fire moved so fast that it engulfed a couple of wooded neighborhoods, leapt over a six-lane freeway to destroy Coffey Park neighborhood, and then bounded through more hills to gulp up another neighborhood–all within the first couple of hours.
How we found out.
Most of us were alerted to the danger by a sharp-eyed neighbor, who happened to be walking the dog late at night, or someone who got up to go to the bathroom and looked out the window to realize a fire was 20 feet from the house. The fire moved so fast, no other warnings were sounded for the majority of those first touched by the flames beyond a phone call from a friend or family member or a neighbor pounding on the door.
Unscathed? No.
I was relatively untouched by the fire. I remind myself of that every day. Because, regardless how I dice it, the experience was traumatic.
That first night, two phone calls, one right after the other on my cell phone, prompted me to wake from a deep sleep. I looked at my clock, only to realize the electricity was out. Then I noted that the wind was ferocious, and the smell of smoke was acrid–and wafting into my house from the windows I’d left open.
“We’re next.”
Before I could look at my phone, I thought I heard someone outside calling my name. That was spooky. While checking my phone to see who had called me (it was Rachel, who was warning me to wake up and check if the fires were bearing down on my house), my phone rang again. A neighbor, who is a retired sheriff, was outside my front door. She had been listening to emergency calls (it’s a “thing” for retired law enforcement) and following the fire’s rapid pace. She was calling me since I hadn’t responded to her pounding on my door. The winds were causing such a ruckus, I didn’t hear her efforts to rouse me, including calling my name. She told me that fires were raging and mandatory evacuations were taking place a few blocks west of our houses, and we were next to be evacuated.
Dazed but now wide awake, I responded, “I guess I better get dressed.” I checked the time on my phone: 2:30 a.m. I went out on my porch and could see significant smoke to the west in a sky glowing from flames. Then I went out on my deck and looked to the east. More smoke, with the horizon aglow from fire.Later I learned that seven fires were burning around our city, and my area had flames coming at us from east, northwest, and south. (I couldn’t see the southern approach from my house.)
After gathering whatever items occurred to me, I was on my way out the door. As I left, I took one more look around my home and said goodbye to my belongings and my house.
How did we spend our evacuation time?
The rest of the week for me was all about evacuating from one place to another as the fires spread. Each move was fraught with tension. Sirens wailing, helicopters and planes flying low overhead, and fire engines rushing around added to the frantic feel. And when your street is evacuated? Police cars rush in with sirens and lights ablaze,and police officers use bullhorns to tell everyone to get out immediately.
For some that’s more challenging than others. One family in my daughter’s neighborhood, where I stayed before they were evacuated, owns a 600-pound pet pig, which started out miniature but never stopped eating. But that’s another story…It took most of the men from the surrounding houses to heft the door the pig was strapped to into the family’s car.
As evacuees, we spent a fair share of our time and energy online, seeking information about what was happening. Was my house safe? What about Rachel’s and Michelle’s? My two daughters’ homes? Friends’ homes? We learned early on about restaurants, shops, wineries, and gas stations the fire ate up.
Every day we breathed thick smoke, we kept a wary eye on the sky, we wondered what would burn next and whether another evacuation was in the lineup for that day. Most of all we wondered how long the fires would have the upper hand and what would be lost.
I’m still pondering what I learned from it all. Here are a few takeaways:
The best rises to the surface.
One caretaker, who discovered the fire was breathing down on the house he shared with his full-time patient, realized he had two choices: try to out-race the fire by wheeling his charge down the street in her wheelchair or heading across the street to a park where the green grass might provide enough safety. He chose the park. For three hours he battled embers and burning debris–including cars hurled through the air by the hurricane-force winds the fire generated–before help arrived. His patient was uninjured, but the caregiver had burns on his arms and face.
The worst rises from others.
Quick-thinking robbers threw eggs at the windshields of those fleeing the fire, knowing each car held a family’s most precious items, including electronic equipment, jewelry, cash, and identity papers. The thick smoke and the dark of night (no street lights were working) made it hard to drive, but the added mess of eggs on a windshield forced drivers to stop–and be robbed.
Refugees suffer horribly.
I moved eight times in the ten days I was evacuated, as the fire kept me from being able to settle into any sort of routine. I used the hashtag #nomadlifestyle on Facebook. But the touch of humor hid the reality that I had only what was in my car, the items I had grabbed in those early morning hours. I thought a lot about what refugees suffer as they take only what they can carry on their backs and leave home for a foreign country, knowing the possibility they’ll ever return is slim. Their plight is so much more poignant to me now.
Whatever you lose in life, your loss is significant.
While I count myself blessed to have all my possessions, I lost my sense of safety. My trauma wasn’t one of losing a house, or a loved one, or a pet, or the items I’ve carefully collected over the years. But the security I feel when I’m in my home is a false one. We all know that in our heads, but that knowledge has moved to my heart.
Time will heal wounds but leave scars.
Ten years from now our city will look back on those weeks of October with a sigh and a bowed head. We have a long way to go to begin to recover, and while the hills will turn green again, houses will be rebuilt, and the fire barriers bulldozed into the hillsides will be covered over with vegetation, the real scars–the ones in our hearts–will remain. That’s how life works. We go on after a significant event, but we move on changed.
In Santa Rosa, we still tell each other our stories from the first night. Last week I had a plumber, whom I’d never met, come to fix a leaking toilet. He told me of his customers in a luxurious neighborhood who all lost their architecturally gorgeous homes. The last house he had a job in before the fire had a glass floor on the upper level that gave a bird’s eye view of the lower floor of the house. Even though the plumber didn’t lose his house, he lost the beauty of those homes he used to take care of. And he feels the loss each family suffered. He needed to talk about it to me, a stranger who happened to share in the fiery experience with him.
I asked a bank teller how the fire affected her, and she told me about her rescue of her two parents, in their late 80s. She drove into the fire to bring them out since neither of them can drive any more. They lost their house. Her parents don’t have the capacity to rebuild. She thinks they should go into assisted living. They can’t bear the thought. Then, her eyes big with tears, she said to me, “So they’re living with me. And will for the foreseeable future.”
The stories abound, the heartache is real, and the grieving goes on. Don’t forget to pray for our town, which was the hardest hit by the fires, but also for our county. Our journey to healing is only starting. Thanks for reading.
Next week I promise to be all professional in my post.
Crystal Caudill
Janet, there are no words. I praise God for your safety and the safety of others. I grieve for you as best as I can, never having dealt with evacuation or fire. May you be a light of God’s love to the people you interact with and offer them glimpses of love and healing from the place our only true Security can come from. May the Lord continue to bless you and keep you.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
Janet, we’re all so happy that your home was spared. You’ve been in so many prayers!
* I have something of a special place in my heart for looters. In a place south of here, these misguided souls received ballistic counseling, after which they contributed to the visual impact of the signs warning against the practice. The latter was their way to get ahead in life, if that isn’t too awful a pun.
* In the normal world I’ve never been evac’d, but a tornado did hit the house a few weeks ago…and I missed it. Well, I was inside the house, but didn’t realize it was a tornado until later.
* It manifested with hail the size of golf balls, and when I tried to open the front door to look out, I couldn’t budge it. Giving a metaphorical shrug, I returned to the DVD I was watching, and then there were a couple of tremendous BANG!s that shook the house.
* When I went outside (power never went out, and I finished the DVD), things were not what they were. A not-so-near neighbour’s porch had been completely destroyed, and we were in the debris field. The roof of a very well-built (by Mennonites) storage shed was caved in be a large chunk of said porch, about 20 ft north of where I sat. Another large bit of junk from the sky broke the wall of the master bedroom…about 15 ft. SOUTH of me. The whole house was lifted off its foundations, and set back down, slightly cockeyed, but no big deal.
* There were pieces of plywood embedded edge-on in the ground, very deep…and the ground is a few inches of sand over hardpan. To dig a hole, you need a sledgehammer and a spike. A shovel just doesn’t do it. That does give one pause for thought.
* There were no injuries, and once the architectural holes were covered no real loss of function…Survivour the Rottie had one panel of his run a bit messed up, but being of cheerful and stalwart nature paid it no heed. The door, however, now opens more upward than outward, and he helps by pushing with his nose. Life is a game when you’re a Rottweiler.
* I can’t say the experience had much of effect on me. SInce moving here, we’ve had this event, some destructive windstorms (which left me with a couple of concussions courtesy flying debris), and a dust-devil which destroyed the neighbour’s previous incarnation of a porch (is God telling her something about porches?). I’ve been accidently shot (twice!) by different neighbour, and shot at by a local wannabe sniper (his skills did not nearly match his aspiration, and he was persuaded to find another hobby).
* It’s been a weird life. I’m just waiting for the Mother Ship to touch down in the back forty, finally bringing Elvis back to a longing world. I’ll get his autograph for you.
Jennifer Deibel
Hear haunting and beautifully harrowing account of what you went through. So thankful you are physically ok, and praying as you walk through the cycles of trauma recovery and grief.
Jennifer Deibel
Sorry, that should say “such a,” not “hear.” ?
Shirlee Abbott
I echo gratitude for your story of survival, Janet, for both your safe return to home and work and your amazing description. Such events are life-changing–we watched a tornado bounce over us and the 11 boys in our care, Andrew, in a heart-stopping moment that still slows my breath 40 years later. God uses these trials to change us for the better: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:2-4).
Daphne Woodall
So glad you were ok and still had your home. Having worked in the insurance field for the Disaster Coordinator of a major company I can imagine the material loss. Living where a tornado skipped through our city and flattened the Walmart I’ve seen disaster up close. Loss of security I understand having had my new home broken into while I was in the home.
Throwing eggs to helpless people is evil. I can’t imagine the fear of fire. My dad was 90 when his home was hit during a hurricane and he wouldn’t leave for fear of theft.
Prayers for your community and you Janet.
Diane Stortz
Thank you for sharing all this with us, Janet. Such widespread heartache, even for those who survived and had homes to return to.
Lynn horton
Janet, I have yet to interact with you when you are not “all professional,” and sharing what has happened in your neck of the woods, and life, enables us to feel more compassion. I would hate to go through my work without that character trait. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, and I am so very glad that you and the other Books & Such associates affected by this natural disaster are safe. God’s speed, my friend.
Damon J. Gray
Janet, thank you so much for walking us through the emotional journey you have taken. I’m really at a loss, sitting here with my own eyes tearing up as I visualize what happened. Just thank you. That’s all I have.
Dana McNeely
Janet, this is so moving. Thanks for being all human with us today.
Janet Grant
Thanks for that, Dana.
Angie Arndt
Yes, thank God you and your belonging are physically safe. I’m so sorry you experienced that trauma. I’ve never been in that situation, but I know the feeling of “not safe.”
I’m always gratified to hear about those heroes and the creative ways they risk their lives to save those around them. But man can always use something good for evil, like those bandits who used their creativity to rob and destroy, not only their victims’ belongings but the shreds of “safe” that still existed.
Yes, time heals and I’ll praying that your healing will be swift and complete.
Jaxon M King
Have been praying, Janet, and will continue to do so.
Shelli Littleton
Thank you for sharing your heart, your story. You left me teary-eyed. It’s traumatic. Yes, you will heal a little every day, but you’ll never forget. Trauma is life-changing. I’m so thankful you are here today to tell your story.
Elizabeth Bohan
Janet, thank you so much for sharing. I can only tell you I was awoken many times in the midst of the night to prayer for the safety of you all, the office, and your homes. I watched videos posted and it was helping, and the devastation , well, to say immense is not even capturing the scene…more like eerily apocalyptic.
I could only imagine the fear, adrenaline and trauma done in the hearts and minds of the people having to face these fires. Even now I pray for you all because I know how trauma works, and what it can do.
I am so glad you are safe physically, but I shall be remembering the people of Santa Rosa and the other fires, as well as those of the hurricanes, flooding and storms…trauma of epic proportion. It is times like this, I thank God for the traumas I’ve been through. It helps me to do 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. It is why I speak, write, teach and mentor/shepherd/disciple.
Praying for you and all.
May the God of all comfort wrap you in His arms, and may you learn to lay your head up His chest and hear His heart beat. It beats for you.
Elizabeth Bohan
Sorry, for the typos, my fingers, plus my eyes, plus doing it on my cell phone in limited light.
Jeanne Takenaka
Janet, thank you for sharing your story. I have a lump in my throat as I consider the impact these devastating fires had on you and your community.
*As I read your story, I thought about the two fires that deeply impacted our city a few years ago. As one fire raged down a mountainside and ate up 300 homes, it left deep scars on the mountains, with black trees and black on the ground. We still see the outline stark trees that look like teeth on a comb as they rise toward the horizon. The thing that brought me the most hope was to see the ground turn green with new undergrowth the following spring. I found hope in that. God rebuilds, but it takes time. I truly am sorry for your loss, Janet. And I’ll continue to pray.
Kristen Joy Wilks
Thank you so much for sharing your story. It makes us live this fire with you, and gives us just a taste of understanding. It brings to mind when I was a camp counselor and we had to evacuate the entire camp, about 60 people and stay the night in a red cross shelter because wildfires were a mile away and it was snowing ash. Such an amazing reminder of what refugees must be feeling and a call to compassion for those around us. We do not know what they have gone through. Thank you!
Norma Brumbaugh
What an experience! I’m glad you are safe. I’m north of you but fires were not far from here. I had to think through the possibly of fires breaking out in my neighborhood. It prompted discussions with two family members and a what-to-do list especially in regards to my unfinished manuscripts (and backup systems). Lots can happen fast (like the evacuation with the Oroville Dam spillway damage and etc. last winter. We had 80K people come to Chico. Churches and the fairgrounds were opened, civic and other organizations were helping out with food and supplies. The sense of safety or lack of
safety alters your bearing. It is traumatizing. Reading about your experience was interesting. Wow! The California fires of 2017 will go down in the history books.
Jennifer Zarifeh Major
Oh Janet. I cannot imagine.
It amazes me that most strangers become kin under such terrible circumstances, while others see only the opportunity to wreak havoc on top of such catastrophe.
I’d have taken those egg-tossing wretches and quite happily made them dig up each and every one of the 2900 Santa Rosa yards that need cleaning. With a spade. And witnesses.
*
I am so, so, so, so thankful that our Santa Rosa Books and Such family is safe.
Janet Grant
Thank you all for reading this post and for entering into one of the smaller stories of the fires. I “hear” the caring in your comments.
Jackie Layton
Janet, I’m so sorry you and your neighbors and family had to go through this experience. I think part of surviving a horrible event is to share stories. It brings us closer to each other and helps us heal. Thank you for sharing your story. God bless you and all of those affected.
Janet Ann Collins
Janet, years ago when I first got out of college I lived in Santa Rosa. At first I was on Russell Avenue, which was on the outskirts of town back then and I could watch cattle grazing from ,y window. Then I lived near Coddingtown. Were either or both of those areas burned?
I’m sorry you had to deal with all that. Your post is so beautifully written you should see if you can also get it published elsewhere.
Of course I’m praying for everyone in the area, including you.
Janet Grant
Janet, Russell Avenue most likely did experience the fire. It’s right in the area where the flames swept through. The Coddingtown area wasn’t as affected, so the second location most likely was okay.
Janet Ann Collins
Thanks, Janet. That’s sad, but so is all the devastation.
Brenda Koinis
The Texas news cycle has done little to provide me with “the rest of the story.” Thanks, Janet. Prayers re-begun!
Jerusha Agen
Beautifully said, Janet. I’m so sorry for your loss (emotionally) and the losses of others through this tragedy. I praise the Lord for bringing you and the other Books & Such ladies, as he did with three special men very long ago, out of the fiery furnace unharmed to proclaim His goodness, mercy, and power.
Kathy Nickerson
Thank you for sharing your experience and your heart with us, Janet. It is easy for those of us far removed from the fires to forget to keep praying now that the smoke has cleared. This is a good reminder.
David Winters
Praying for you all.
Christina Tarabochia
Oh, Janet! I just read this to my mother and could hardly make it through! We hold you close to our hearts.
Janet McHenry
Praying grace surrounds all.
Debbie Spence
I am so very sorry. My heart breaks for everyone involved. Are there ways we can help your community? Are there any ministries you’re aware of that we can contact? My husband owns a fire and water restoration company. I see the loss from a distance but I also see lives rebuilt. That’s my prayer for you and your community. God bless you!
Deb Gruelle
Thank you for putting words to some of the trauma you and some of our Books & Such team experienced from the fires.
God made us to live in innocence, so it’s jarring when trauma steals it away.
Praying for healing.
E McD
Thank you for sharing your experience. My prayers are with everyone there.
Mary Kay Moody
So glad that your home “safe” even if it doesn’t yet feel safe. You said y’all move forward ~ changed, and the grieving goes on. That’s life for those heavily impacted by the fire. I say, cut yourself some slack ~ work, but you can be real in this community, no? Not just your professional part?
We went through a months-long fire situation about 2 months after we moved when my husband retired. (We were in the next neighborhood to be evacuated ~ then the wind shifted, We didn’t have the same traumatic mid-night awakening and vagabond situation. Still it takes time. Have been praying, and will continue. Thanks for including us in your telling the story.
Linda
Janet, thank you for sharing your heart. This is a tragedy that has changed people’s lives forever. Poignant, and beautifully written.
Rachel Durham
Janet, in a Bible study this morning and revisiting your blog, in particular, the story about egging cars and robbing evacuees. Can you provide a source for this information?
Sue Strouse
I thought of you often and of your community. Many prayers were offered to you all from Michigan. Reading your blog set the real scene of what you and your community went through. You continue to be in my prayers. Thanks for sharing your experience. (Sue from Julie Klassen England trip)
Carla
Oh, Janet. Thank you for sharing your story. Praying for you and the others in your community.
MaryAnn Diorio
May our Lord comfort you as only He can.
Stacy Monson
So heartbreaking. Thanks for letting those of us far from the fire understand in just a tiny way what a terrible event it was, and how people will continue to recover physically, emotionally, and mentally.