I want to preface this post by saying thank you for the outpouring of love and support we’ve received since our devastating house fire. We are blessed that so many care about us.

I’m not a materialistic person. I know things can be replaced and have been. The most important thing is that we all got out of the fire alive and unharmed. But I am feeling stabs of sadness at knowing there are things we can’t replace. Every time I remember something else unique or special that we lost, I feel a lump in my throat. The fact that we lost our nest, our haven, that definitely hurts. I don’t really care that the TVs are gone or that the couch has been reduced to springs. What hurts me is that I lost the quilt my grandmother made me for my childhood bed. It was pink and blue with butterflies and flowers. It hurts that the furniture my grandfather made is gone. My Daisy Award and statue disintegrated. My husband lost all of his Air Force patches and service medals. He lost his grandfather’s wedding band. I lost the sentimental pieces of jewelry he had made for me, like the mother’s ring and necklace with the children’s names on it. Eli lost Woosey, the worn out plushie dog he’s slept with every night since he was born. Caleb lost his weighted blanket and plushie hippo.

So yes, while I am grateful and feel blessed by what we do have and the generosity of others, I can’t help but be a little sad at the same time.