And the hits keep coming...

I got a call this morning from my niece. She was crying and barely got out, "Aunt Wendy, Aunt Kelly's house burned this morning. They lost everything." I was able to find out the family was ok, but that a fireman had died. I felt numb. I couldn't stop crying. I wanted to call Todd. Todd worked with Jay (whose house burned) and Kelly has been a friend of mine since we were young (her sister married my brother, so we are "family" as well), and was a huge help to me when Todd was sick and with the funeral. I had to see her. I had to know that she was ok.


When I drove over to the familiar house (Kelly and Jay bought Kelly's parents' house after her parents died...a place where I had spent much time growing up and for family gatherings), the roads were blocked with dozens of fire trucks, police, and ambulances. I had to walk. It was so hard to see the burned home. The whole family was there, but I needed to see Kelly. After tears and hugs and crying, I found her. She was fine. Strong. Kept saying, "It's ok, Wendy, it's ok."

I love the Choate family. Todd loved them as well. I wish he were here to lean on.

The fireman who died had a wife and two young children. A tragic loss.

Today feels like a dream. I wish it was. I want the nightmares to end.

There is praise to God in all this tragedy. He is still good. He is still God. He is still in control. He is there for Kelly's family, He is there for Fireman Picozzi's family. He is good.