Unbelievable Shock

It hasn't even been 5 whole days since we lost everything.


It feels like months ago. It feels like it is still happening. Sometimes, we forget for a few seconds and then we are shocked back into reality.


The passports are *most probably* a loss. The fire investigator did an investigation (we still don't know the outcome), but now all the insurance companies want to do an independent investigation.


So, we may never be able to sift through the rubble. Right now, the area is completely structurally unsound and fenced off. We can't go through out stuff until some sort of machinery pulls our stuff out. It might not happen before we leave. We don't know that there will be anything worth saving, but maybe there is. We don't know.


We are still in major shock. We can laugh, but it isn't full laughter. 


The mountains in front of us are large and looming. I have no idea how to climb them, other than to just walk and hope that someday we will make it to the top. I don't know when. I don't know how.


The brokenness, the feelings of being alone, the heartache is so palpable that it threatens to swallow us whole.


We really appreciate everyone's generosity. We are ever so thankful for every piece of gracious kindness that we have received.


With that, there comes some explanation.


We know that in trauma situations, the temptation is to fix it. Fix the problem, stop up the hole, make it better. 


Numerous people have offered us furniture, household items, etc. We are so thankful for the generosity, please know that.


But the truth is, it is too fast. We aren't ready to try and stop the wound. We aren't physically able to think about acquiring new stuff. We aren't able to breathe through the pain yet. Maybe in a few weeks, maybe in a few months....we don't know.


We know people want to be helpful. To do something. To try and make it better.


Right now, it is just bad....there is no making it better. Right now, we have to sit in the muck and figure out how we feel, how to move forward, what to do.


We appreciate every single offer, please know that. But we can't respond to you right now. We can't think about it right now. 


We don't know how. Please respect that. 


Right now, we need some luggage or duffel bags. We're going to need something to bring our meager collection of belongings to Iowa. So, a couple of suitcases, backpacks, duffel bags. We're going to need 4 or 5 bags. We are also going to need a large fish box. If you live in Alaska, you know what that means. If you don't, never mind. 


Right now, as hard as it is to ask for, we need money and we need prayer. We don't know what the future holds. We don't know how the insurance will play out. It looks like we will have to replace everything ourselves to get the full value of our renter's insurance, but even then we just don't know. The road is going to be long and arduous and our policy will not cover everything - or even half of everything.


A friend of ours started a tax deductible donation account through Wells Fargo. It is humbling to even type those words. I can't even describe the feeling. But, if you feel compelled, the account number is listed to the right on this blog. You can go to Wells Fargo and deposit money to that account number. If you have or were planning to send us money, this is where we will deposit it into. Just to keep track.


We don't know when we are leaving Alaska. It all depends on the passports. We have to get new ones, and for that we need birth certificates too. A big mess, a big, big mess. Therefore, we don't know how long our PO Box will actually be valid. We'll forward the mail, but we just don't know.


Thank you for loving us. Please email. Please call. Please, keep letting us know you are thinking of us. It is hard not to feel alone. The small words of comfort and grace are one of the most sustaining things we have. It is difficult for me to ask for help. I am good at helping, but not good at accepting.


But please, please. Help us. Pray for us. Send an email. Make a phone call. Send a text. Pray we get the house in Iowa to rent that we've been working on for a week. At least then we would have a home somewhere, something to call ours. We desperately need to know that our wide network is here, right by our side.


Thank you for your love and care. We are alright. We will be alright. We will make it through even this. We don't know how, but we know we can.