What Will You Grab In a Fire?

What will you grab in a fire?

Is it a picture? Stuffed animal? Medicine? Which heirlooms will you save from destruction?

I’ve tumbled over this question through the years-the answers morphing with each candle on the birthday cake.

36 later, and now I know.

Turns out when the black smoke tumbles towards your face, you can’t grab anything but the handle of the door.

You hands can only hold what happens to be in them by the grace of the God watching over.

No lists. No thinking.

When you glimpse the flames licking up, you can’t hold anything but the palms of the children you’re pulling to safety.

There isn’t room for more when you’re gripping tight to hope as you watch the flames rise higher.

Your hands are already too full- desperately clutching the arms of Christ around you.

What did we grab in the fire?

Our Savior.

And he was enough.