Yesterday morning just as I hung up with one of my prayer partners, I heard some type of explosion. Then all our fire alarms went off.

I scooped up the baby and headed down the hall to see if there was a fire somewhere in the house. With the fire alarms blasting, loud pops began to run through the electrical outlets.

Growing more frightened by the minute, I gave up searching for the fire, and ran to the TV room where three-year-old Garry watched Beauty and the Beast. As I entered the room, there was a loud burst and smoke poured from either the television or VCR. I couldn’t tell which one. Garry sat frozen on the couch. I grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the room with me.

I tried using my phone, but it was dead. Running to the car with the baby and dragging Garry, I got my cell phone and called 911.

“I think my house is on fire,” I told the dispatcher just before the line went dead.

“I called back again. “I heard an explosion. My electrical outlets are bursting. The TV is smoking, and I think the house is on fire,” I said again as soon as she came on the line.

“Give me your address,” insisted the dispatcher.

I did just before my cell phone cut out again.

The urge to run back into the house to get my Bible came over me. It was the only thing I could think of that I really wanted to save from the fire. Scott gave me that Bible for my 33rd birthday, two weeks before I was born again. Ten years of tears and pencil scribbles stain that Bible. It has accompanied me to the births of four of our boys. We own a slew of nicer leather Bibles now, but all I wanted was my worn, old Bible.

You cannot endanger your children for a Bible, I sternly told myself. I looked at our beautiful house and imagined it burning to the ground. “It’s just a house… God’s house,” I said out loud to put things in perspective.

He gives and takes away, blessed be his name… At that moment with scripture bursting in my head a release came over me.

The fire alarms kept blasting and Garry James clung to my leg. I looked down and realized the baby was still attached to my breast. I’d been nursing him when all hell broke loose. I say all hell broke loose because in that instant the urge came over me to rebuke the devil.

“I rebuke this in the name of Jesus!” I said loudly. Then a calm strength washed over me.

“Paula, go shut off the power to the house.” It wasn’t an audible voice, but the Lord’s instruction resonated in my spirit.

Sweeping my little guys along with me, I crossed the yard and stode to the back of the shed where the PG&E box hung on the wall. I yanked open the long metal door and cut the main power to the house. After that I calmly went back to the car and picked up my cell phone. Calling 911 again, I told the dispatcher that I didn’t think I needed the fire department after all.

“They are already on their way,” said the dispatcher. “Do not go back in the house until they check it out for you.”

“Thank you,” I told her, then hung up the phone. Unclamping the baby from my breast, I straightened my shirt and tried to make myself a bit more presentable for the team of men about to descend on us.

Garry James, who is usually talkative and lively, remained as quiet as a terrified mouse. I looked down at him holding onto my thigh and his little eyes were big as boulders. Before answering the phone when my prayer partner called, he’d said to me, “Mommy, please watch Beauty and the Beast with me. It’s a scary movie.” I’d assured him I would, but then I took the phone call and after that…

I kneeled down and hugged him long and hard. He still didn’t say anything.

When the fire trucks rolled down the drive Garry finally said, “Look Mommy, here come firemen.”

Each Christmas eve these firemen come in their trucks with Santa Claus and give our children really nice gifts. I wondered if Garry would expect a gift. But that was the first and last thing I heard Garry say until the firemen departed an hour later.

Dressed in their fire gear, they went all through the house with a heat detector. To my relief and embarrassment they found nothing amiss.

“I see why you called us. You have a really nice home. It would be a shame if it burnt down,” said the fireman in charge.

“I’m so sorry I panicked,” I said for about the tenth time. I described to the guys what happened and they said, “We’ll get PG&E out here right away.”

After they left, my cell phone rang. It was the dispatcher telling me that PG&E would arrive soon.

The boys and I hung out outside until the PG&E man showed up. After checking everything out, he came to the conclusion that a bird had tried to build a nest in our transformer. A trig was hanging from the box and the transformer box was not near any trees. “The bird must have caused an arch that created the boom you heard that sent the power surge through your house.”

“Does PG&E cover any of the damages from this?” I asked.

“No, we call this an act of God. PG&E isn’t responsible for what God does.” The man grinned.

I felt like telling the sweet man that I believed this was an act of the devil. But I wasn’t going to argue with him because ultimately it was an act of God since God allowed the devil to inspire the stupid bird to stick a twig in the transformer.

Once the PG&E man left, I finally ventured into the house to check things out. As I suspected, the TV and VCR were dead. The phone had been killed too. And soon we ran out of water from damage to the pump.

To my relief, both our single cup coffee maker that Scott and I love, and our computers survived the assault. Garry finally spoke. “I want to watch a movie,” he softly said. I figured it would not be Beauty and the Beast.

“The TV’s broken,” I told him.

“It popped and smoked,” he said in a very serious way.

“Yes, it did.” I laughed and Garry James finally smiled.

“Let’s put Tom and Jerry on my computer for you.”

I got Garry all set up with pillows, a sippy cup of milk, and my computer rolling one of his favorite shows and then went back to checking out the house. By now it was time to nurse baby Christian again.

After doing so I pulled out my great aunt’s old telephone that you plug into the wall and must stand there with it. It worked great and I called my dad to help with the pump problem.

Needless to say, our empty bank account just became a lot more empty. Yet knowing this, a current of joy zapped through me. The Lord had remained at my side through it all.

After setting up the pump repair, I put on worship music and raised my hands to the Lord. He is my portion and my cup, I will be satisfied in Him…

This morning has been so peaceful. Driving a much smaller red truck, yesterday’s firemen stopped by to check on us. I told them about the power surge and thanked them again for their help.

After they left, I set up my great aunt’s step stool in the kitchen beside the phone so I have a place to sit when I talk on her phone. She and my grandmother her sister are gone now, but I smiled as I recalled how thirty years ago both of these women would sit at their phone desks and rest while they visited with people.

I get to rest and talk for awhile, I realized instead of cleaning the toilets with the phone tucked on my shoulder. This thought sent a current of gratefulness through me.

Right now I am sitting in my grandmother’s comfortable old rocking chair with my computer and baby Christian on my lap as I blog. God protected my laptop from the power surge yesterday. I am grateful for this too.

Lately, I’ve been practicing gratefulness. Each day I think of at least ten things I’m grateful for.
Today, one of the things I am grateful for are all of you who read my blog. Thank you, friends for sharing God’s lessons with me. May a power surge of thankfulness hit you today. I love you.

Prayers and a smile,
Paula