I've met so many amazing people because of this journey, this blog, people I never would have met if my house hadn't burned down and I hadn't been willing to chronicle our journey home. I know this is just the beginning. Hopefully when the non-profit site gets up and running we will serve as a resource to thousands. I will know heartbreaking, painful stories, but we will all heal by sharing.
But I sometimes find myself stuck, struggling to find the right words, when someone sends me their story.
I want to say, "It's going to be ok" or "You'll find your way back to normal" or "There's a reason for all of this." But I can't. Those aren't the words that have settled into my heart.
Will you be ok? Maybe. Probably. Hopefully. I've survived. Some days that's enough. Other days it doesn't feel like much at all. There are still plenty of moments where I long for my life to return to the path I followed on August 24, 2008. I don't want to hold these lessons. I don't want the scars on my soul.
My life is so so different from where it was the hours before the fire. I've yet to intersect with the path I was on before the fire, and I imagine that I never will. I likely will not return to teaching. We probably would have moved. I can't find my way back to that normal because that normal doesn't exist anymore for me. Maybe others find their way back to their "before" life, but I know I won't. Normal will always be different.
When someone shares their story with me, sometimes the best thing I can muster is, "I'm sorry" (which we all agree is better than "At least you're ok" right?!). I wish I had more wisdom, some sense of how to help you heal. I hope my words are enough.