The year 2020 left an indelible mark on many, prompting a shared sentiment of wishing for a reset. “I’d like to get a refund on 2020,” was a common, half-joking lament that perfectly encapsulated the global upheaval and personal trials. For our family, that year brought not only the widespread anxieties but also a terrifyingly close encounter with nature’s fury – the wildfires that threatened our Utah home. As the flames ravaged the mountainside just behind us, my immediate thought was of gratitude for our safety, intertwined with prayers for those already displaced. This experience, etched into our collective memory, became a profound lesson in resilience, faith, and the true meaning of sanctuary.
Navigating the Utah Wildfires: A Personal Account of Resilience
Those raw, unfiltered words accompanying the initial photo – a simple “So far we are ok, hoping we don’t get evacuated. Praying for those that already have been” – were all I could manage to write that Saturday night. The mountain behind our house was ablaze, marking the beginning of a harrowing weekend of wildfires across Utah. It was an event that none of us, especially our children, would ever forget. The evening began innocently enough, punctuated by the familiar sound of illegal fireworks. Living in Utah, where the landscape is perpetually hot and dry, these sounds invariably trigger an eye-roll and a resigned thought: “Fires. Of course.” The immediate danger was still a distant concept, merely a predictable annoyance.
We were attempting to finish what felt like the world’s most regrettable film experience, ‘Ad Astra’ (a cinematic endeavor that still feels like hours of my life I’ll never reclaim), when the distinct wail of sirens pierced the night. These weren’t distant sirens; they were far too close to dismiss. A sudden jolt of unease propelled us upstairs, where a quick glance out the window revealed a small, ominous flicker dancing on the mountainside. My initial reaction was dismissive. I truly didn’t believe it would escalate into anything significant. I watched for a while, observing the diligent work of the fire trucks as they attempted to contain the nascent blaze. But then, as if on cue, the weather shifted dramatically.
From nowhere, a fierce storm front rolled in. Within an instant, massive gusts of wind erupted, transforming the flickering flame into a raging inferno. The fire exploded up the mountain, an uncontrollable force spreading with terrifying speed. I stood, utterly transfixed, unable to comprehend the rapid, devastating transformation unfolding before my eyes. The beauty of our familiar mountain landscape was being consumed by a monstrous, fiery beast. But as shocking as that moment was, it was only the prologue to an even more astonishing sequence of events.
A Divine Intervention: The First Miracle Amidst the Flames
As the wildfire escalated, consuming everything in its path, evacuation orders began to sweep through our community. Panic surged as neighbors hurried to gather their belongings and flee the encroaching danger. Amidst this rising chaos, the most unbelievable thing happened, an event that defied all logic and meteorological predictions. The raging winds, which had just moments before fanned the flames with terrifying intensity, simply ceased. Not gradually, not slowly dying out, but in an instant, as if a switch had been flipped, the powerful gusts vanished. Simultaneously, a downpour of rain began to fall.
It wasn’t a drizzle or a light shower; it was a substantial, life-saving rain. This sudden, precise cessation of wind and the immediate onset of rain felt nothing short of miraculous. I witnessed it firsthand, an undeniable moment of divine intervention. It was the first miracle of that harrowing night, a moment forever seared into my memory. Yet, as I stood there, awestruck by this sudden reprieve, another memory surfaced – a dream I had years ago, a companion vision that now felt disturbingly relevant.
The Prophetic Companion Dream: Foreshadowing Disaster and Resilience
Years before the Traverse Mountain fires ever threatened our home, I had a vivid dream that meticulously outlined the events of that fateful night. For an entire day leading up to the fires, I grappled with the unsettling feeling that I should share this dream, though I couldn’t quite grasp its full significance at the time. This wasn’t just any dream; it was profoundly significant, imbued with an urgent sense of forewarning.
In the dream, I was going about my daily routine when an overwhelming sense of urgency washed over me, a pressing need to warn people. I began frantically calling friends and neighbors, my voice laced with an ominous premonition: “Something is coming, and we need to gather our families in safe places; we need to be watching.” Yet, my warnings seemed to fall on deaf ears; no one truly listened. The dream depicted my husband, Cade, as being absent for some reason, leaving me to gather my children alone. Despite the mounting panic, I felt a precise and purposeful strength, a clear understanding of what needed to be done, even as fear and urgency pounded within me.
And then, it happened. Fire erupted on the mountain, specifically by a house I instinctively knew to be mine, even though in real life, we didn’t then live on a mountainside. The wind roared, just as it would on that real night, blasting the flames higher into the sky. People were being evacuated, a chaotic scene of hurried departure unfolding before my eyes. The dream was startlingly accurate, a premonition that would soon manifest with terrifying realism.
Huddled in the Closet: Finding Refuge and Faith Amidst Fear
As the dream’s fiery landscape unfolded, I raced to gather my children around me. Yet, an inexplicable instruction resonated: we were to stay put. And so, in the dream, I found myself huddled in a large closet with my children, our voices murmuring prayers that the fires would dissipate, that we would be spared. The fires were undeniably terrifying, yet within the dream’s fear, there was an overarching feeling of profound awareness. This was not just a random nightmare; it was a directive to take note, a confirmation that our prayers would be heard, but also a sober realization that from that time forward, life would be a succession of trials, signaling the nearing time of Christ’s return.
My role, I understood, was to hold my children close, to pray fervently for their protection, and to serve as a witness and comfort to others facing similar storms. I knew, with a certainty that transcended the dream state, what was coming. This foreknowledge, rather than paralyzing me, fortified my faith. It instilled a sense of preparedness, not just for the immediate threat of fire, but for the broader challenges life would undoubtedly present.
A Daughter’s Echo: The Shared Prophecy
I awoke with a jolt, my heart racing with a primal panic, still unable to fully sit upright. The dream’s vivid imagery clung to me, its urgency refusing to dissipate. Just as I was beginning to process the lingering terror, my bedroom door flew open with a familiar metallic coil sound as the handle bounced back, the wood thudding against the doorstop. My daughter burst in, her voice trembling, “Mom! I just dreamed fires were coming over the mountain, and you grabbed us kids and took us into a closet to hide!”
She was shaking, her chubby little arms trembling as I lifted her into bed with me, holding her close. The sheer impossibility of it! How could she have dreamed the exact same thing, with such precision and detail? That very day, I meticulously recorded every detail of both our dreams in my journal, preserving the chilling synchronicity. Last weekend, when the fires raged on the very mountain I now call home, I watched, remembered, and looked up, my spirit filled with a profound sense of awe and conviction. I may never fully understand why I was given that dream, but one thing is certain: our family is paying attention. The experience solidified our awareness and heightened our spiritual sensitivity to the signs around us.
From ‘Stuck’ to ‘Safe’: Redefining Home as a Sacred Refuge
In recent times, a powerful reframe has echoed in my heart, thanks to a thoughtful reader: “We are Not STUCK at home, we are SAFE at home.” This perspective shift resonated deeply, paving the way for a profound lesson that unfolded for me one morning as my heart was unusually open and prepared to listen. As I read, a particular passage leapt out, a verse I had encountered and understood many times before. Yet, on this morning, its reality struck me with unprecedented clarity and depth:
“5 Behold, the field was ripe, and blessed are ye, for ye did thrust in the sickle, and did reap with your might, yea, all the day long did ye labor; and behold the number of your sheaves! And they shall be gathered into the garners, that they are not wasted. 6 Yea, they shall not be beaten down by the storm at the last day; yea, neither shall they be harrowed up by the whirlwinds; but when the storm cometh they shall be gathered together in their place, that the storm cannot penetrate to them; yea, neither shall they be driven with fierce winds whithersoever the enemy listeth to carry them. 7 But behold, they are in the hands of the Lord of the harvest, and they are his; and he will raise them up at the last day.”
Historically, the interpretation of this scripture often points to “sheaves of wheat” representing people, and “garners” as places of storage like churches or holy temples. But on this particular morning, a new, deeply personal understanding dawned on me. I recognized the “sheaves” as my own precious children, and the “garners” as our homes. Our homes, I realized, can truly become sacred temples, holy sanctuaries, safe havens where families are literally gathering right now to be protected from the tumultuous storms of the world.
All my life, I’ve heard teachings about a future day when we would gather in sacred places for safety against the perils of the “last days.” What I hadn’t fully grasped until that morning was the profound truth that our individual homes, in their own right, could become those holy places. This revelation fundamentally transforms one’s perception of home. It shifts the focus from merely a dwelling to a dynamic, nurturing environment designed to be a place of refuge and spiritual strength. It makes you reflect on what you want your home to truly embody and feel like right now, doesn’t it?
While I hold optimistic hope that the immediate challenges like the global pandemic will eventually wane and life will improve, I am under no illusion that the storms are truly over. More trials, more “storms,” will inevitably arise. Therefore, I am diligently preparing my home, not just as a physical structure, but as a perpetual place of refuge and solace for hearts and people. It is a sanctuary where faith is nurtured, fears are calmed, and love abounds, ready to weather whatever the future may bring.