It was the day the world went wrong
I screamed until my voice was gone
And watched through the tears as everything came crashing down
Slowly panic turns to pain
As we awake to what remains
And sift through the ashes that are left behind
But buried deep beneath all our broken dreams
We have this hope
Out of these ashes beauty will rise
And we will dance upon the ruins
We will see it with our own eyes
Out of this darkness new light will shine
For we know that joy is coming in the morning
In the morning
Beauty will rise...
This song is basically what my soul has been singing ever since about 3:35 yesterday. I feel like its a prayer from me and at the same time a promise from God that everything has a purpose.
Yesterday, my grandparents' house caught fire and burned. Half of it is nothing but ashes. Less than a week ago, I stood in their living room, and yesterday I looked at the charred remains and was amazed at how unrecognizable it was.
God has blessed us because my grandparents (they were on my dad's side, just so you know) were not home when it happened. They were on vacation. They rushed home, a 12 hour drive, when they found out, and they managed to make it here safe. My grandpa is also a preacher, so they have the church parsonage to stay in, which they have clothes and food and whatnot in. They also have a travel trailer that they can stay in, if need be. I guess, even though God let something happen that wasn't so great, he knew that we were the most prepared for something like this. It could have been much worse. They could have lost everything, and we could have lost them.
We don't know exactly how the fire started, we just know that it happened and that we must rebuild. I guess that is how it is with everything in life. When it falls apart we have no choice but to rebuild. Yes, there is a time of mourning and grief, but there is a time for planting, and a time for harvest, and a time for rejoicing afterwards. Out of these ashes, beauty will rise.
I guess I'm just tired. I'm also in shock, because it doesn't seem real. I guess the only time it has seemed real, that it has really hit me, was this morning and last night. Last night, we ate dinner at my great aunt's house, because people had already been bringing food. I just sat there and stared at my soup, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened. And when my great aunt hugged me, I felt like crying like a baby, because she is one of those old ladies that can hold you as if you are an infant, even if you are almost grown up and about a foot taller than her. This morning in first period, I had to tell my drama teacher what had happened. She is like a second mom to me. And I broke down crying because it hit me that it was really real. This had all happened. I just needed a hug. And I managed to recover quickly, and convince myself to stop crying and make it through the rest of the day.