My husband, Lane, and I had our first daughter, Ember, in October of 2016. We owned a cute little starter home in a small town—the same town that I was born and raised in. But it was only a two-bedroom, one-bath, and now that we were starting our family we were ready to expand our home as well.

We sold that house and bought a small piece of property in a neighboring rural town. The existing house on the property was actually smaller than our first home by about four hundred square feet and the bedroom/bathroom situation was the same as we already had. The house was also missing a dining room, did not have central heat or air, and had tons of expensive issues that needed immediate attention. But the reason we took the plunge was because it came with a little over one flat acre, which meant room for the kiddos to run around in the country air and room to bring my horses home for the first time. We figured in time we could expand on the house, but what is a realtor’s number one motto? “Location, location, location!” 

We closed escrow mid-July 2017 and celebrated our daughter’s first birthday in our new home in October. Just three days later, the Redwood Complex Fire swept through our valley and claimed everything we owned. 

That night was particularly windy. We had a covered patio just outside our bedroom and one of the sheets of metal was loose and flapping violently, keeping us awake until late into the night. When sleep finally found us, we were knocked out cold. 

We awoke at 1:37 a.m.—I will never forget seeing that time on the clock. Someone was pounding on our front door and screaming. We both jumped up, immediately alert and hearts pounding. My husband ran to the door, unaware of the events that were about to change our lives forever.

Our eyes first went to his uncle standing there, frantic and panicky (I attribute him with saving our lives), and next, to the scene behind him. The otherwise dark night sky was lit with bright orange flames as smoke poured into our home. The massive wildfire was not more than five hundred feet from our front door, and the violent wind was fueling and spreading it quickly.

“The valley is on fire, you gotta get out now!” Uncle Don yelled. He and his wife lived just up the road from us. As they were fleeing from the flames, he had noticed our house was dark and our vehicles still there. I thank God for that man. If he hadn’t stopped to check on us, we likely would have slept right up until it was too late to escape.

“What?” Lane said in shock.

Uncle Don repeated himself again, giving us a short second to process—we didn’t have the luxury of time. Then he said, “You gotta go now! What do you need?”

To be continued…