I had a productive morning, writing a fair bit, focused, alert. Then the storm came. Not one I could see or understand, but it came with a fury which has yet to relent.

A little less, very little less, than a year ago fire swept through California coming within a couple of miles of this house… on every side. The town was evacuated, we didn’t go. Why? Because we felt safe, and because there was a strong burden to prayer.

So a week of prayer commenced while watching the surrounding hills for glimpses of encroaching flames, and watching the fire planes sweep so low over the house I could read the numbers on the tail and see the pilots in the cockpit.

All week I felt the burden of the fire, a tenseness, a watchfulness, feeling not only caution and danger, but the very emotions of a forest dying, pain coming from all quarters, an evil of sorts exuding itself over the land wiping away dreams and memories, property and lives. I stood in the wee hours watching for flames that could have easily, should have easily, burst through. They didn’t, something our firefighter neighbor says according to his twenty plus years of fire experience is inexplicable. It was a miracle he said. The hand of God was sheltering this valley from the fierceness of the flames.

I say this because that feeling I had then I have tonight. There are no flames, and I’m not staring at the hills or watching planes. But, it’s that same feeling.

Curious. Pray for me, won’t ya’. If I learn anything I’ll let you know.

Maybe it’s just a normal turn of emotions. But, I’ve never ever been one for overbearing, random anxiety (“I love tests” is my school motto). I felt this during the fire, and during other vital moments. I don’t know what is going on in realms beyond my ken. But it’s something. It’s something. So, I pray and stare.

And may do this for a while still, even though it’s late.